Book Review: Blue Eel by Lorne Dixon

Blue Eel is a psychedelic, sometimes foggy, trip through desert cults and the depths of the human psyche. 

Book: Blue Eel

Author: Lorne Dixon

Publication Date: November 30th, 2015

Rating: 3.5/5

It's difficult to pigeonhole a genre-defying book like Blue Eel. However, there is an unmistakable element of Saturday Morning Action to it and though this breed of action is best-suited for screens both large and small, it can be a surprisingly effective tool for modern novels. Society has siphoned patience from a vast majority of the population, who expect their whims to be catered to without any delay. While some still retain the ability to sit and read a meandering whopper of a story, a great deal have become jaded by long-winded prose and have allowed their tastes to become trenched in ennui. Those accustomed to having things--be it stories or movie downloads or hamburgers--delivered to them posthaste have become increasingly selective in regards to their literary preferences and now hunt down books paced at the breakneck speed of an old-fashioned pageturner. These books don't necessarily have to be action-centric, as proven by the unique, but still swiftly-paced, Blue Eel.

The novel opens with preteen Madeline Turaco disappearing in a trailer park after canvassing an extremely odd couple, Five years later, her father Branson is visited by Detective Susan Woost, who has discovered a lock of his daughter's hair in the home of a child predator. Despite Woost's prolonged attempts to convict him of murdering Madeline and the suspicion still surrounding him, Branson buys an unlicensed handgun and strikes out to find her. He enlists the help of shunned, introverted filmmaker Marius Spiegler, who is partially responsible for the deaths of two young children, and intelligent, invective-doling intern Abriella, who is deeply scarred by her mother's early death and father's unpredictable behavior. It isn't long before Branson discovers a link between his daughter's disappearance and the predator--eels. A band of ex-hippies and anarchists are hooked on eel's blood, which has extremely powerful and mind-altering effects (including luminescent skin), and have become embroiled in a complex child-trafficking system. Branson must outrun his glowing pursuers, as well as his mortal ones, if he wants to save his daughter.

The premise is a familiar one: mild-mannered Joe Smith loses his daughter, amasses a small artillery, enlists a few misfits, and tracks her down. And while a few of the details surrounding the characters--particularly Woost and Spiegler--are intriguing, the beginning is a little too formulaic and, yes, hurried. The novel's quick pace is refreshing in some respects, but there isn't enough time devoted to developing Branson's character (or, rather, lack thereof) or his motivations. Most of Blue Eel's eclectic cast sparkles with scintillating personalities and interesting traits: Branson, however, is about as absorbing as a slice of unbuttered white bread. He's every action movie protagonist, an average guy who just wants his daughter back and, predictably, goes to outrageous lengths to find her. His every thought and action is horrifically cliched, so much so that it holds the novel back from really soaring.

These issues, however irritating, are endemic to any action-centered book--and this story is definitely action-packed. There's a massive shootout, as well as uppercuts, firearms, getaway vehicles, blades, robberies, and a myriad of murders of varying violence. The book doesn't pull any punches: this is an extremely violent, visceral story and no character is spared from the bloodbath. Eel's blood, the drug that ties every aspect of the book together, has an almost fatal impact on its user and projects some gnarly hallucinations into their minds, which Dixon presents in florid, chilling detail. These descriptions are some of the best the book has to offer.

Blue Eel is a relatively short novel, due largely in part to the succinct, clipped prose. Dixon's handle on setting and narrative is remarkably strong, especially when it comes to action scenes and, to the reader's surprise, the novel's quieter moments. His writing is redolent of Dean Koontz's, particularly during the suspenseful third-act, and flows across the page with all the insouciance of an eel through ocean water. However, Dixon struggles with dialogue. When it doesn't come across as wooden and excruciatingly predictable (especially with the walking Action Hero trope Branson), it's almost too pretentious to tolerate. Spiegler in particular does nothing but spout insight and maddeningly kitschy phrases; Adriella borders on obnoxiously sarcastic and snarky, and occasionally channels Dixon's fuzzy idea of what a black teenaged girl should sound like (spoiler alert: it's often incorrect). These cringe-worthy conversations prevent the book from being the streamlined, varnished pageturner it could have been.

While I definitely appreciate the book's creativity and the twisted final act, I'm not entirely sure it was for me. Blue Eel is an intriguing, although not always enjoyable, read, staffed with original characters and presented with refreshing clarity. However, it also drags considerably for such a short novel: much of the material concerning Woost and other minor characters feels extraneous, almost tacked on to pad out the book's length. The ending isn't for everyone (I certainly felt it was underdeveloped and, like the subplots, tacked on to be "shocking") and some of the unflinching violence might faze sensitive readers. Ultimately, Blue Eel is a vivid trip through the human condition, an insightful examination of a father's love (and how far that love extends), and, by and large, an entertaining read.