Ellsford University holds many secrets within its austere walls. Macabre murder, suicidal students and one radio journalist who threatens to bring down the institution, if her own dark secrets don't destroy her first.
A good mystery is a work of art. By its very nature it must be. Plots, subplots, characters. All must be interwoven just so to draw the reader in. Any failure on one front will cause the entire work to unravel, leaving the reader feeling disappointed, cheated. If the writer is too elaborate the work will not flow naturally, leaving the reader feeling overwhelmed and confused.
Dead Air by Deborah Shlian and Linda Reid finds that perfect balance, engaging the reader, yet taking the time to build upon itself. It draws you in, but leaves just enough distance to allow for objectivity. An omniscient viewpoint gives the book a web-like feeling as the reader becomes aware of events happening on campus and the characters are left to play catch up. The layers create an intricate groundwork that adds to the anticipation and makes the novel a fast read.
From the opening pages Dead Air begins to weave its magic with an elegant prose that wraps its fingers around your mind, refusing to let go. You find yourself compelled by the writer's language, no matter how macabre the subject matter.
The first campus death is a suicide, a young man who decides to take a high dive off a low clock tower, but it's the writing that strikes you. Not a grisly death scene, a tantalizing tease leaves you hungry for more.
"He’d been sitting there, feet dangling over the precipice of the university clock tower for nearly twenty minutes, not clear how he got there or why. But then he hadn’t been certain of much since — since when? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t seem to remember anything except the recurrent nightmares. Tormenting him. Invading his thoughts. He’d hardly slept at all in two weeks."
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