spouse abuse in a distinctly political manner. The narrative spans from the 1930s to the 1990s, showcasing King's sharp historical insight. He does not shy away from depicting Dolores's harrowing experiences with marital rape, physical abuse, and the molestation of her daughter by a manipulative father. There is no attempt to claim that such issues were nonexistent "in those days," nor does King downplay Dolores's fears for her daughter, Selena, her depression, or her ultimate confession about her father's sexual misconduct.

Dolores remains steadfast in questioning Selena about the specifics of her father's abuse. She also recounts Joe's furious reaction when she revealed she had reclaimed the money he had stolen from their children's college funds.

Dolores's story exposes the grim and often violent reality within the marriages of working-class women. As she attempts to recall the reasons she loved and married Joe, all she can remember are her high-school fantasies about his forehead: its smooth whiteness contrasting with his dark hair and its clear skin. She also remembers marrying Joe because she was pregnant. However, any love she had felt vanished long ago. Dolores also remembers that her father enforced "home correction," and she often excuses men's behavior, believing it is their role to control their wives and children. Her upbringing leads her to think that, while there might be minimal justification for a husband to beat his wife, there is absolutely no excuse for a man to sexually exploit his own daughter. To highlight the profound impact of Dolores's lost love, King crafts a unique image—a scornful, staring eye on her forehead—symbolizing her unwavering clarity of vision later in life and the cold rage she feels whenever she looks at Joe. Considering Joe's treatment of both Selena and Dolores, his murder seems to be justifiable homicide or self-defense. The police evidently agree, as they do not pursue charges against Dolores for either death.

King also highlights the severe economic constraints of the era for both working-class and affluent bourgeois women. Dolores describes her grueling, long hours working for low wages under Vera Donovan, along with the constant pain of hanging wet sheets to dry in the freezing winter winds. She fears that Selena's career prospects will be limited to working as a hotel housekeeper. The most bitter part of Dolores's life is that, while Joe contributed little to their children's college funds (questioning why his kids would need college), his revenge against Dolores was to secretly withdraw their savings and, with the help of sexist bank policies in the 1960s, close the children's accounts without the passbook. Dolores notes that if she had attempted the same, the bank would have contacted Joe to confirm the transaction. To make matters worse, the loss of their savings into an inaccessible bank account traps her financially on Little Tall Island, ironically leading to Joe's demise.

The storyline of Dolores Claiborne is fairly conventional; Joe's murder aligns with the typical themes found in mainstream fiction involving marital violence, murder, and justifiable homicide. Vera's death from falling down the stairs is also a familiar trope. However, the plot becomes intriguing with the twist of the maid agreeing to finish her off with a rolling pin, only to be caught before doing so. The combination of domestic violence, an accidental household death, and attempted euthanasia is certainly distinctive.

King's storytelling approach does away with the "Dear Reader" authorial voice or an all-knowing third-person narrator. The storyteller's voice is central—it is the narrative itself. Critic Roland Barthes talks about "speakerly texts" and "writerly texts." Speakerly texts, much like oral narratives, rely heavily on the voice and persona of the narrator. These texts have a unique connection with the audience, as the reader must actively engage by filling in the gaps, effectively becoming a coauthor and shaping the story's meaning. Readers need to construct context from her words, infer the sheriff's questions, visualize other characters through Dolores's descriptions, and piece together the narrative's action suggested in the final newspaper articles.

Oral storytelling is one of the oldest narrative forms. Many modern postmodern works aim to obscure their written nature by creating the impression of a voice emerging from a sparsely lit and minimally furnished stage—where the captivating and realistic sound of a human voice, the origin of all stories, is all that exists. Yet, Dolores Claiborne can also be likened to genres and authors experimenting with alternative narrative forms.

In contrast, numerous novels and short stories incorporate significant monologue sections or feature a series of monologists. This can be seen in the short stories of Grace Paley and Saul Bellow, as well as in the novels of William Faulkner. Whether the monologist is fictional or real doesn't affect the approach to the text. This novel could also be compared to genres characterized by a unique voice and a specific rhetorical purpose, such as personal narratives, confessional literature, autobiographies, slave narratives, Holocaust survivor accounts, or women's diaries and letters. For instance, in Elizabeth Dewberry Vaughn's Many Things Have Happened Since He Died, a woman recounts her life story (similar to Dolores's) into a tape recorder, resembling a confession or legal statement. This literary technique highlights the novel's emphasis on the spoken word.

Although Dolores Claiborne is set in a realistic world without supernatural events, it shares a paranormal link with Gerald's Game. On July 20, 1963, during a total solar eclipse over Maine, while Dolores witnessed Joe's death in a well, ten-year-old Jessie Burlingame was being abused by her father. Despite being 165 miles apart, they saw and recognized each other. Some critics criticize this "forced" supernatural connection between the novels, yet King intended for them to serve as "bookend" stories, exploring similar themes and social issues impacting women's lives. Both characters' lives were overshadowed by horrific experiences. When their stories are recounted 30 years later, they are still dealing with the aftermath. The varying events, circumstances, and ages of Dolores and Jessie indicate that discerning readers shouldn't make a simplistic comparison.

Another strong female character appears in "The Reach" from Skeleton Crew. Stella Flanders, who gives birth alone amidst a zombie apocalypse, is portrayed with an island setting, creating a similar tone and atmosphere. The landscapes in these stories operate on both literal and symbolic levels. The mainland and the island symbolize self and potential, life and death, experience and innocence, the tangible and the spiritual, as well as the ordinary and the extraordinary.

In The Green Mile series, King introduces another narrative voice to tell his autobiography. Paul Edgecombe's voice is distinctly clear. King describes his view of Paul: "There were lots of things I liked about it [prison stories], but nothing more than the narrator's essentially decent voice; low-key, honest, perhaps a little wide-eyed, he is a Stephen King narrator if ever there was one."

In 1995, Taylor Hackford directed the film Dolores Claiborne, adapted for the screen by Tony Gilroy from the novel. The movie has been likened to a 19th-century gaslight melodrama, featuring a sneering police officer portrayed by Christopher Plummer, a villainous husband played by David Strathairn, and a troubled daughter played by Jennifer Jason Leigh. However, Kathy Bates's portrayal of Dolores is far from a helpless victim tied to railroad tracks. Her performance in the film is described as "sweet and fierce, hesitant and determined... brushing aside the calculations of the story with the sheer force of her humanity."