Meet Sam Brody, skeptic
extraordinaire and late night host of The Red Eye, a radio show where he
debunks myths of supernatural, psychic and otherworldly goofiness. So what does
he do when he finds himself thrust neck deep into the same sort of stuff he
professionally calls bullshit on? Say, for instance, items start exploding or
flying around when he is near? Or the coworker who reeks of sulfur and the
crazy redhead who calls him up, telling him about his dreams? Obviously, some
craziness must ensue.
I am sorry if I sound a bit flippant
in the above, but I was tossed around by the abrupt changes in both character
and thematic thrust from the preceding House on Concordia Drive (an
introduction to the character and, ostensibly, his world) to this work. One of
the things that impressed me about that story was that it didn’t go for the
obvious and overused approach of having the skeptic changed to a believer by
the wild and wacky ways of the spiritual realm. This story, however, falls into
that same trap. Similarly, I like how honestly Concordia portrayed a
selfish, egotistical bastard in the midst of a collapsing personal life without
demonizing or glorifying him. Again, here we have him quickly shift to a
slightly gruff teddy bear once he has a girlfriend to be all cuddly with. The
shift was too jarring for me and that affected my experience.
At its heart, The Red Eye
seems to be an attempt to tell a very traditional fairy tale in a modern
context. You’ve got the white knight, the wizened wizard, the maiden fair and
the big, bad dragon. I get the attempt, but it causes several problems. The big
bad is a cardboard cutout of evil, with no sense of motivation or personality
beyond that. The feminine interest has no place in the story outside of being
something for the hero to save. There never seems to be any doubt that the hero
will triumph. The window dressing is updated, but the problems with this type
of tale are not addressed and it hurts the story.
These issues were all the more
frustrating when placed next to the obvious talent on tap here. The dialogue
had personality. There were touches of how the relationships worked that were
gorgeous. Taylor’s prose flowed as clean as a mountain stream. It says a lot that,
despite the issues I had, I flew through reading this. And Concordia was
nearly brilliant. The Red Eye just seems bland in comparison.
Cover art: Amanda Beach provides a fairly
basic representation for the story. Personally, I find the reaching figure a
little strained and a bit cheesy, but not obnoxiously so. While it fits the
story okay, it isn’t particularly striking.
The formula at work here is classic,
and perhaps so for a reason. Likely, you will either find it comforting or aggravating.
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