It’s the Eyes of the Dragon, it’s the thrill of the fright
But perhaps, in the end, all things worked for the best.
Or perhaps not. That is another Thing you must decide for yourself.
Stephen King The Eyes of the Dragon
Depending on how you count these things, this is King’s 19th book published. I mean, it depends on how you count Bachman and Danse Macabre (yes to Bachman, Danse Macabre is non-fiction so not included in this count). Though republished in 1987 for mass market, with some tweaks and new illustrations by David Palladini, The Eyes of the Dragon was first published in 1984. Without a list of exact publication dates (I am now realising as I do this project), Stephen King in publication order is practically impossible. But let’s say it’s his 19th, and move on.
The most interesting thing about this King book is how unlike every other pure King book it is so far. We’ve met a number of different King voices: Stephen King, our main guy who writes the majority of the novels; Richard Bachman, his alter ego who has a more cynical take on life; Stevie King, the voice of the introductions and Danse Macabre, shooting the breeze. In The Eyes of the Dragon, though close to Stevie, has a unique voice. Because though it was published and republished, it was was first written for Naomi King, with Stephen King acting the part of the bedtime storyteller.
Reading this is is like reading early King. When King arrived on the scene with Carrie, there was already a strong narrative voice present, and though it took until The Shining for it to settle into the voice we know today, it was not unconfident. Here, it feels like King is having to relearn how to write because of the genre he is working in. It is understandable then that the voice he adopts is more of a storyteller, willing to make asides and commenting on the story in a much more obvious way than he has done previously. As King was telling the story to his daughter, it lends itself well to being read aloud. Like The Long Walk, this would be a good option for younger readers to start with. There are flashes of King’s horror instincts – the death of King Roland is nasty in a Sam Raimi sort of way – but in the main we are being told a story.
For that reason, this book was unfairly treated when it was first released. King had by this point built himself up a fairly consistent brand of horror, though close readings of his bibliography up until this point show more variety than you would suspect. To release a pure fantasy novel at this point seems like a very strange move, especially coming hot off the heels of The Talisman with which it shares many similarities. But it is through understanding that it was for Naomi as well as judging the book on its own terms rather than for what it isn’t, you may discover odd gem. It is not Stephen King arriving and conquering the fantasy genre on his first attempt, but isn’t bad either. As his 19th book (give or take), it also acts as a portent of many things to come.
That portent signals the way of the Dark Tower. Though ostensibly a children’s tale, there are links found here with the Dark Tower that will echo throughout. Some are small, and are noted below. But the most noticeable link is the unambiguous return of Flagg, Stephen King’s ur-villain.
Flagg has and will appear in many Stephen King books, but by this point had appeared only explicitly in The Stand. There are suspicious King fans have about other appearances (He Who Walks Behind the Rows, Reul Gardener from The Talisman) or ones retconned later (The Man in Black), but that naming choice and similarity of character is King’s deliberate choice to link these two. The later edition of The Stand has the extra epilogue of Flagg appearing to a tribe in the jungle, but we now can begin to suspect the multiverse-spanning evil of Randall Flagg. It is confirmed within the text that Flagg has taken on other names in Delain’s history, including that of Bill Hinch the executioner and Browson the singer and warmonger, showing we are not limited always to RF. That he can also make himself ‘dim’ is also a clue we can pick up on throughout his other appearances.
That’s all very interesting and fun to explore in a fannish sense, but what’s interesting to discuss here is why King chose to bring him back quite so explicitly. In The Stand as published at this point, Flagg is defeated, and the Man in Black from The Gunslinger is not yet confirmed to be another incarnation of Flagg. I think partially the reason is the groundwork laid down by mentioning Flagg’s previous pseudonyms of Hinch and Browson: we are told the evil can be defeated by good and love, but that it can always come back and take the unguarded. Maybe King picked up on that theme and decided to make Flagg that evil force. His powers as presented in The Stand make him the only viable candidate for a return really; could you imagine a returning Cujo or Greg Stillson having quite the same impact?
With that in mind, it is important to say that this is a book about love. It was even borne from love, in that this is the only book written for one of King’s kids and not just dedicated to them (it is notable that Naomi is the only one out of family of writers not to be one – Joe Hill and Owen King have written books and Naomi is, so far as I’m aware, a former minister, LGBTQIA+ rights advocate and now works for the PieTree Orchard in Maine), but all the way through love is shown to be the most powerful force.
Peter and Thomas are born out of love between their parents (though, is it just me or is King Roland gay?), and the relationship between Peter and Thomas and their friends is constantly reiterated to be based on love. The reason Thomas has his fall is because he is consumed by jealousy and feelings of inadequacy with his father. Naomi herself is present in the book as the only female character of substance who doesn’t die, and King pairs her off with Ben Staad (who is a stand in for Ben Straub, son of Peter Straub and friend of Naomi (though also very much not her type)). We even have characters like Peyna, who has love for justice and order. All these stand in defiance of Flagg, who’s only love is for chaos and death, a love fuelled by hatred rather than the pure love demonstrated throughout the rest of the book.
There are other themes worthy of discussion in relation to this book. The theme of childhood’s end and growing up is important, but so long as we don’t forget the magic of childhood as exemplified by the napkins (the book was originally called The Napkins, which I think may have set readers up better than the lurid title it has currently, but your mileage may vary), as well as that of responsibility. These are all important themes to instil in a young person, but there is room to discuss that with regards to other books (The Body, It). King has certain obsessions he will always return to.
Though there may be other books that discuss King’s perennial fascination and belief in love better or in more detail than this, that this book’s very existence was written from the love a father has for his daughter makes this one of the best and clearest examples of his obsessions.
Observations and Connections
I talked about Bernie Wrightson’s magnificent and haunting illustrations for Cycle of the Werewolf and The Stand, and this is another illustrated King book by an artist named David Palladini. The illustrations here are not my taste (one of the few I like is used above), and I’d love to see a version given to a modern illustrator like Charles Vess who didn’t make the main, 16 year old character look like this.
A couple of those other quick references to the wider King universe. Flagg has already been mentioned, but we get an early cameo from Rhiannon of Coos who appears a folklore warning rather than a fully-formed character. She will appear in a later Dark Tower book. Showing we are set in the same world, if only a kingdom adjacent, are some other details: paper is still rare and valuable, talking birds with nasty mutations and the use of Great Letters, similar to the High Speech used throughout the Dark Tower.
King Roland of Delain is unrelated to Roland Deschain of Gilead, though the names are confusingly similar. Roland may have just been a popular royal name. With Gilead, Delain and the Territories, we are getting a sense of the world of the Dark Tower, where Kingdoms and regions know of each other but can be relatively isolated.
Outside of King, the fight sequence between Peter and Beson felt like the fight sequences described in Dune, the precise execution and description of perfect moves. Peter also feels very similar to Paul Atreides. Not sure if this was deliberate to not.
Finally, Flagg, of course, has a copy of the Necronomicon bound in human skin. The Necronomicon is a reference to Lovecraft’s creation, written by Alhazred on Leng: this suggests either Alhazred dream travelled to Leng to write it, or another version of the Mad Arab wrote it in Mid-World and Leng is present there too. Either way, a fun reference. What is potentially more interesting is King mentioning that it is bound in human skin, not a detail found in Lovecraft but a film that King may very well have seen recently.
UP NEXT: The final original entry of Richard Bachman, Thinner.
Deeper Thoughts for the Horror Inclined 