Red Dragon Review

Out of the novels so far, this one felt real. The fear was real; the stakes were real. Yes, there were some aspects that were reminiscent of police dramas on television, but the fear in Graham was perhaps among the most realistic aspects of this novel.

Through Graham, the settings seemed like a prison. During his investigations in the Leed’s home, each object had a story that was touched upon. In an odd way, he was putting pieces of his own life together, but looking in all the wrong places. The places and things seemed to haunt Graham, or was he obsessed?

Graham, though a simple character in a way, with closer attention, he is more complex. His ordinary aspects are a major drawing point. When he isn’t obsessing over the murders, we find him to be like anyone else: honest, humorous, and with a childhood filled with mischief. Springfield has keen instincts and some strong leadership abilities.

Harris does not forget his other characters. They seemed to breath, too. Price is levelheaded, and he can work under pressure and he has a way with words. Princi hates being called “doc” which tells a reader he takes himself and his profession seriously, a real type-A personality.

Now, the monster: Dr. Lecter himself. He is a complete enigma, darkness made flesh. One of the more macabre aspects of his personality is that fact his heartrate didn’t increase when he bit of a nurse’s tongue. He is devoid of any and all sense of morality and emotion. Lecter is an intelligent, cold menace. He is clearly dangerous. He isn’t allowed anything sharper than a crayon, yet even a crayon would be deadly in his possession. His cunning and intellect set him apart from the obsessed psycho. He’s a sociopath with no regard for human life. He can manipulate others from isolation and make his own goals from the confines of his cell. He simply cannot be contained.

Lecter’s skill with words s perhaps his most frightening aspect. His silver tongue can do just as much damage as a knife. How he got Graham’s home phone number was nothing more than chilling. The ease in which he got it leaves chills

Harris has a way with words, much like his villain. The narration was straight and narrow, but left enough room for imagination. Harris changed his POV when it was needed but did it well enough so as to not interrupt the flow of the story.

Going through this novel, a question arose: what is evil?

I don’t believe Lecter sees himself as evil. I would go so far as to think the idea of good and evil doesn’t register, though I would think he has a great deal of knowledge about the subject.

Is Dr. Lecter evil?

A short answer: yes. But his own perspective on himself would lead one to reconsider, but a staunch and rigid definition of evil would place him with that label. The consumption of human flesh is certainly a taboo act in Western culture, which is certainly evil. But Lecter perspective about it and his own way of speaking could convince one he is not necessarily evil, misunderstood perhaps.

The Scultpor Review

As I was reading this novel, I could not help but draw parallels to other films. Namely, Audition, a Japanese film. It may have been the tone set by both pieces that caused me to draw a connection.

One of the more macabre aspects of this piece was the setting. Anyone who has lived in a small town, knows Aurelias. They lived in it, they were Aurelias. A murder would shatter the humdrum lifestyle of a small, quiet town, likely a fair distance from any major city. In a way, this novel is similar to any novel by Stephen King. The setting has a life all to its own. However, the similarities end there. Funaro gives more away than needed.

This seemed a great deal like a television show, which in itself is not a bad thing, except that some characters come off as bland in some ways. Christian made me draw parallels to the Japanese film, Audition. Though, both pieces are depraved in their own right, the film is much more visceral in many aspects.

Anyways.

A psycho is often as twisted as their obsessions, which I found to be the theme of this novel. With all its faults, it seemed intentionally rough around the edges, like stone. I wish I had more time to delve into this novel and discover whether I can give it more credit and find areas of I likely overlooked.

However.

This novel drew many parallels to Arnzen’s Grave Markings (1994). Kilpatrick and Christian had obsession to some degree, but expressed their psychopathy in different methods, which produced a similar effect in their respective communities. Both suffered from insanity in some shape or form. Also, both enjoyed the media attention and which drove them into more acts of depravity which caused fear in the community. It comes to a point where both enjoy the attention more than the act of killing.

I didn't find this book very enjoyable. The beginning was hard to get through. The rough (rocky) nature of the first few chapters took me out of it. The tone completely changes when it focuses on Christian and when it focuses on Cathy. I found the writing a bit difficult to get through. The chapters which focus have a different feel, like trudging through gravel, to make a pun. I found this to reflect the psyche of Christian: solid, unyielding, yet possessed a twisted form.

In an odd way, the contrast between the chapters which focus on Cathy are more refined than those that focus on Christian. To some, this may be a cheap technique. However, this does ad a depth of depravity to The Sculptor. Christian lives the life of a reclusive hermit, one who shuns technology, yet uses it to enjoy the impact his killings have on his community, very much how Kilpatrick did.

I couldn’t bring myself to like Cathy, but she grew on me. I garnered sympathy for her when it is revealed that she is the target for Christian. This certainly upped the suspense to ridiculous levels.

So why am I thinking about Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock? Maybe the reference to Michelangelo.

Perhaps a common theme in both? Moral/ethical decay in society? Maybe the artistic merits of life? I can’t say.

Church of Dead Girls Review

A Note: Chihani reminds me of Squall from Final Fantasy 8.

The novel focused too much on Chihani at first to the point I got bored hearing about him, but I wanted to learn about him through his own words and actions. The narrator seemed to betray his own characters and story by providing all the detail and keeping plot and story separate.

Chihani seemed the stranger from a strange land. His intellect was certainly his more fearsome aspect. His profile fits almost every real-life profile of a psychopath. He's well spoken, well educated, and yet, something about him was off. Early on in the novel, it seemed he and Franklin could be the killer, but Dobyns doesn't like to play fair in the beginning. Chihani’s cynicism gave way into some form of wisdom, which his peers didn’t take very well.

Chapter 5 is where the novel started to lose me. It went from 3^rd Person Omniscient to 1^st Person. Again, the reader is subjected to over saturation of details and background and the narrator seemed to forget to move on with the story.

Question: Just who the Hell is the narrator for the 1^st Person portions?

This switching between first and third person is just confusing as hell. It’s a nice twist in one regard, but it causes the narrative to go in two directions in some ways. One, it diverts attention form the matter at hand: the ritualistic murder of the three girls; two, it causes multiple narrative to occur at the same time. It does add complexity to the story, but also it adds a confusing aspect.

Dobyns may be guilty of being heavy-handed with details and his use of First-Person seemed problematic to me due to the detached feel to it. There's an atmosphere of distrust. I didn't trust the narrator, I seldom do.

Suspence in this novel is one of the stronger aspects. It goes between First and Third person, which can be a strength and weakness at the same time. The suspence, though great, was detrimental. By having what seems like several things going on at the same time, Dobyns focused more on suspence than actually having actual progress in the novel.

Perhaps one of the more chilling aspects of this novel is the familiar setting: A small college town is a powder keg, a place where atrocities are committed, and place where nothing happens at all. Aurelius is reminiscent of a prison of sorts, where conformity is standard and any deviation is seen as odd. Case in point: Franklin. His spiral into the deepest reaches of grief was enough of a concern that people could see his downward momentum. That was creepy.

With the all-too-familiar setting, Dobyns creates an uneasy feeling which is amplified by the use of the changing narrative perspectives. Perhaps it is this use of deceptive tactics in which Dobyns is most effective in this novel. The technique takes a reader into a maelstrom of suspicion as if the reader is part of this tale.

All things considered: this is a novel where more action is needed. It became boring. It turned into an episode of Criminal Minds, CSI, and other television series. The suspense was its strongest aspect, and yet its weakness. Chihani has his flaws, yet they were focused too much into the narration instead of the action.