Taxi Driver

            There’s a long list of unforgettable emotionally unstable cinematic characters, but among the top of that list is Travis Bickle. If you don’t recognize the name, the line “Are you talking to me?” will probably jog your memory. The infamous Bickle from Scorsese’s 1976 classic Taxi Driver is still fascinating audiences 40 years since the movie debuted. There much to love about this film, especially De Niro’s portray of the lonely cabbie spiraling down into a delusional break with reality.

            The plot of Taxi Driver is simple. Vietnam veteran Travis Bickle picks up a job as a night time taxi driver which fuels his perceptions of New York City as a demented Hell hole. After he is rejected by a campaign worker he is infatuated with, Bickle becomes increasing unhinged. He plans to assassinate the campaign worker’s candidate, but once that fails, he ends up saving an under aged prostitute through a blood bath instead. The irony at the end is that Bickle is praised as a hero for saving the prostitute when, had he been successful at the campaign rally earlier, he would have been labelled a villain. This makes an interesting point about society, violence is viewed by not the mental/emotional state of the person committing it, but by the people it is aimed at. Since Bickle killed the “bad guys” his actions are not only acceptable, they are perceived as brave. Had he killed the “good guy” politician, his action would have been seen as cowardly and wrong. Either way, the fact remains that Bickle was unstable to the point he was going to kill someone.

            The plot itself isn’t the highlight of this film. The actual pacing of the movie is somewhat slow and choppy, but that is because this movie is about the character not the action. De Niro’s Bickle captivates, as he should considering the movie is more about his insights. De Niro is brilliant, there is no denying that. I think Bickle also fascinates us because we only get a present view of his life. A common element to most stories containing a psychotic type killer is to explore the background events of the life that created them. Bickle’s backstory is blank. No flashbacks to his time in the war. The audience doesn’t even know what job he had  in the marines. There is also nothing about his childhood. The note he writes on a card to his parents only shows the audience that he is detached from them enough to lie about his life in order to keep them away. All the audience has are the thoughts at present during the film, which makes him an enigma.

            This is a “show, don’t tell” sort of film in that manner. The audience is shown his decent, and all the pieces of his everyday life that pile on to lead up to the brutal mass murder at the end, but they are never told why Bickle saw the world so negatively in the first place. Loneliness and the desire for connection, especially romantic, are a theme that drives Bickle to the end of his rope. As much as he hates the view of the streets from his cab, he also longs for the companionship he witnesses. It’s a brilliant inner tension battle for a character; he both wants to be included in society while loathing it at the same time.

This push and pull is the main conflict of the film. His failed attempt at a relationship with Betsy, the campaign worker, causes him to think of her as just like everyone else, meaning he lumps her in with the rest of the depraved and selfish people he sees the rest of society as. Iris, the twelve year old prostitute, he becomes attached to because although she is one of the street walking sort he detests, he believes he can save her from that. That fact that she doesn’t reject him, actually he rejects her advances, makes Bickle feel like she is a special case.

The film wraps up on a surreal note. Having killed three people, Bickle survives to be announced as a hero by the media and Iris’s parents. He resumes his taxi work, picking up Betsy. She seems to have a renewed interest in him now that the papers have labeled him a hero. Bickle seems to bury the hatchet but doesn’t pursue her affections. There is some talk that this is all Bickle’s fantasy as he dies at the shootout, which the writer and director deny.

Personally, my interpretation is that these events actually happen in the end. However, it isn’t the happy ending it seems at first. For one thing, Bickle has gotten away with murder. He may seem better in his emotional and mental state, but the paranoia still lies beneath. He is distant from Betsy, which means he is no closer to intimacy than before. In the final moments of the film, his eyes in the rearview mirror still look upon the streets with a mix of disgust and fear. If anything, the shootout reset the ticking time bomb and he will inevitably go off again.

Overall, this is a classic film for a reason. It may seem slow at points, as this a highly character driven story, but well worth the viewing. The acting is exception, specifically De Niro’s performance. If you haven’t seen it, or seen it recently, it’s time to give this movie a watch.

Helter Skelter

            I don’t believe Charles Manson and his infamous Family needs any introduction. As far as serial killers go, Manson is probably the most recognizable name. Even people who know little to nothing of famous killers have heard of Manson. To get a deeper look at the story of the Tate/LaBianca murders and the Manson cult, Helter Skelter: The True Story of The Manson Murders by Vincent Bugliosi with Curt Gentry is an enlightening read. It should also come with a wall length corkboard and push pins for the reader to construct a visual diagram of all the information packed into this volume.

            Multiple books, interviews, documentaries, blogs, and movies tackle the story of Manson, his followers, and the murders. Each source offers a different perspective on the topic. This book is authored by the DA that prosecuted Manson and the three girls involved in the murders. It comes as no surprise then that the book is structured from the perspective of building a case against Manson, Atkins, Krenwinkel, and Van Houten. The details of the crime scenes, pieces of interviews conducted by the authorities regarding the case, and the details of the court proceedings are thoroughly explored. For anyone interested in the case, this book is a wealth of knowledge. It’s downright addicting as the reader gets to help construct, through Bugliosi, how the murders occurred and the warped lives of the Manson Family.

            This flood of information is a much as a negative as it a positive. The list of names at the beginning of the book is only one small sample of how much knowledge the reader is going to drown in. There is no way to keep track of everyone. At some point, the reader will have to figure out who this person is that just took the stand. The name is familiar, but there were dozens of people mentioned by this point in the book. The time frame the Tate’s maid washed down the windows with vinegar is discussed. The backgrounds of each person involved, including such players as the two inmates that Susan Atkins told she was involved in the murders. Dates, times, and police slip-ups; all documented and ready to be waded through by the reader. This is a book that begs for the reader to take notes while reading it, or utilize their giant cork board. Simply put, this is not a lite, easy read.

The work includes the thoughts and assumptions of Bugliosi, which adds a nice personal touch to the text. Bugliosi isn’t overly preachy; however he does make it clear what he thinks of the people he encounters during the investigation/case. This made the book a bit more accessible. Instead of a dry reading of a case file, this had tid-bits that provided a tone for the story. His impressions, especially of the girls, and his openness about the often problematic way the police handled the investigation gave a sense of informalness to an otherwise formal recount of the events. At the same time, Bugliosi is obviously presenting his take on the case. The exact happenings at Spahn Ranch and the Family dynamics are his interpretations. The book therefore lacks any other viewpoints (interviews aside) besides Bugliosi and the facts of the matter.

As to the psychos of the book, Manson and his murderous followers, the text gives interesting insight into these people. Backgrounds, interviews, and outrageous courtroom antics are all recorded.  The Family’s vision of the future by a Helter Skelter race war is pieced together throughout Bugliosi’s investigation. As far as hooking the reader, this is the real kicker. The murders were savage, but the bizarre scheme that motivated them still captures the public. Although the book isn’t able to take us into the cult fully, Bugliosi does a fantastic job bringing up all the relevant disturbing activities/fantasies of the Family. It’s chilling.

I’m torn on how much I want to delve into my thoughts on Manson and the Family for this blog post. Honestly, I could keep a blog devoted solely to the topic and never run out of things to write. However, I also want to keep my focus on the book I’m reviewing and not wander too much to the overall topic behind it. So, I’ll briefly mention a couple of my own curiosities on the case and what Begliosi mentions of them.

There is much debate over whether Manson’s followers were mindless slaves to his will or willing participants. I got the impression from this book that Begliosi believed Manson had completely brainwashed his followers, yet they already had the potential for violence before meeting him. To a degree, I feel the same. However, I don’t think Manson is the mastermind that he is usually portrayed as. He strikes me a brilliant manipulator, but I think the people that surrounded him helped to build the Helter Skelter fantasy. I think they weren’t so much slaves as they were under the influence of a frenzied group delusion with Manson as the messiah.

Was the evidence of the trail enough to prove guilt or did the media hype of the murders and the defendants lead to a guilty verdict without enough substantial proof? This question has always fascinated me. I feel there is enough evidence to prove the family is involved in the murders, but besides a few fingerprints of one suspect and the gun (which could have been in anyone from the ranch’s possession), much of the case was built on testimony. It’s hard to sift out the truth from the lies in this case.

The book does give a through explanation as to how the DA built their case. A lot more evidence was used than I previously thought, but I’m still not fully convinced it was enough on its own. The ineffective attorneys for the defense and the outbursts of the defendants were an evident perk for the DA’s case. I still wonder if Manson and the others had run a better defense, if Bugliosi would have gotten the conviction. Several times in the text, Bugliosi points out instances, like Krenwinkel denying to give a writing sample, that could have lead to the defendants freed of charges or at least reduced sentences.

Overall, this is a book for those that want to get a deeper view into the Manson murders. It’s a long read, but one packed with interesting information on the case that will keep pages turning. Devote some time to this one. Prepare to be inspired to do more research and spend a chunk of your life boarding on obsession over the case… and don’t forget the big board to plaster all your notes on.

Misery

Misery was the second novel I read from Stephan King, after Carrie (still have a soft spot for that one). As an adolescent, I felt I resonated way more with the plot and characters in Carrie than I did of Misery. That’s not to say Misery didn’t scare the pants off of me, it certainly did, just that I wasn’t at a place in my life to appreciate the book the way I am now. Reading it again, I have a greater appreciate for this work. This is one of those King novels that are classic for a damn good reason.

Plot wise is book is about the author of a popular romance series, Paul Sheldon, finding himself trapped by his mentally ill, sadistic “number one fan”, Anne Wilkes, after a car crash. She gets him addicted to meds while she nurses him and tortures him (yeah, heal and hurt dished out by the same warped character) while demanding he bring her favorite romance character, Misery Chastain, back to life in a new novel written just for her. Seems straightforward enough. A tense situation ripe of all manner of horror to play out.

King is brilliant in the way he presents the story through Paul’s perspective. There was never a point that I felt the tension was dipping by having just the two main characters together in a limited space. I found Paul to be a highly engaging character, though perhaps the fact I’m a writer might make me a bit bias. It’s easy to feel for Paul’s plight, and in turn, feel invested in his wellbeing. The setting added fuel to the fire as the isolated and trapped sensation makes the reader feel desperate for Paul to escape.

Truly impressive is the book’s psycho, Anne Wilkes. She is believable in a way many fictional psychos aren’t, she’s unpredictable. While most fictional psychos are given a tragic backstory to explain their motives for killing, Anne is simply a killer. Her mental instabilities are probably genetic more so that created by a tragic past. Anne Wilkes isn’t becoming a killer, she just is one. In fact, she doesn’t see anything wrong with what she is doing. She sees herself as a good person doing the best she can in the world, which makes her all the more terrifying. King crafts a character that is believably suffering from multiple mental illnesses. At the same time, she is generally unaware she has severe problems. She thinks this is just a part of who she is, a part of her personality.

I also liked how King gave her a common sense sort of intelligence (no fancy psychology Dr. Lecter type here). Anne is smart; she ensures Paul is dependent on her by setting up his drug addiction and his need for food/care from her right at the beginning of the kidnapping. No frills, no toying with her prey. Anne knows what she wants and takes the best direct route to get it, even if that is through a foot or a thumb. She has a hearty sort of intellect that is far too often misunderstood as being simple. As a small side note, Kathy Bates does an amazing job of capturing the character in the film.

There is another dimension of this book that I didn’t grasp in my teenage reading. The whole story can be seen as symbolic of an author’s journey writing a novel, with many parts of the story directly reflecting King’s struggles at the time he wrote it. Anne Wilkes is Paul Sheldon’s biggest fan, but she also represents the harshness of readers in a more general respect. Anne punishes Paul severely for trying to break out of his genre, much like what happens quite often with established writers. Anne demands Paul doesn’t take shortcuts with his writing and insists the story be everything she expects while also being something that isn’t stereotypical. Readers can be unforgiving and demanding. As much as Paul is afraid of displeasing Anne, he is also addicted to not only the drugs but writing the story. I willing to wager that most writers feel at least a smidgen of fear regarding what their audience will think of their work, and yet we are driven to do it anyways. I could go on and on about how much I related to this side of the story as a writer, but I’m sure you get the point.

Overall, like all of King’s classics, this is a great read for any horror fan. As fantastic as the movie is, the book is still superior. Well worth settling in and devouring a page at a time.

The Silence of the Lambs

After the Lecter appetizer in Red Dragon, I dove into film The Silence of the Lambs (1991) with an appetite for a terrifying and startling psycho. I have seen the movie before, numerous times, but watching it again with more attention to how the story works brought me another perspective. This movie is even more impressive once it is viewed with a critical lens.

The portrayal of the FBI was solid. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not an expert on FBI/Police work, but everything in this film felt real. Not just the basic protocol or tools of investigation, but the interactions between the authority characters. There is some tension between local police and the FBI in almost a bit of a territorial manner. I would expect this is true to some degree in the field. The FBI, especially Crawford, uses every possible advantage to get information. Crawford essential uses the ambitious Starling as a tactical tool to get Lecter’s cooperation. A fake deal is offered to Lecter, which is countered by Chilton’s deal. A higher degree of politics weaved through this plot than what one might realize if viewing it just for entertainment.

The dog eat dog mentality of many of the characters makes Starling stand out as almost an innocent among the wolves (or in this case, a lamb among those who would slaughter her). Crawford will use any means possible to catch his man and Chilton would do the same to gain notoriety. Starling’s focus is on saving the girl, which gives her a more heroic vibe among the rest of the cast. This is why her interactions with Lecter feel real. He can see the genuine need to protect and rescue that is missing from the other people that have come to consult him. This fascinates Lecter, who lacks the very empathy that is Starling’s defining feature.

Such a polite host

This film features two serial killers. This actually works well to heighten the growing tension and danger in the story. There is a heavy sense of psychological terror in Starling and Lecter’s encounters, while Buffalo Bill is the physical threat. The killers are also beautifully contrasted. For Lecter, killing is a pleasure in and of itself. He has no sympathy for his victims. Buffalo Bill kills for an end product. He purposely dehumanizes his victims, calling them “it” as the killing is a chore to get him what he really wants. Buffalo Bill does have the capability for sympathy but he makes a choice to ignore it. While both are horrific killers, Lecter rises as the more chilling psycho.

The main criticism of this film is typically the presentation of Buffalo Bill as an LBGTQ character. When the film premiered in 1991, positive portrayals of LBGTQ character were rare. I have torn feelings on this. In some ways, this character did seem like he was sending the message that LBGTQ people are mentally ill and potential dangerous. It’s hard to ignore the only character that isn’t straight in this film is a serial killer whose gender orientation/sexuality is one of the greatest motivating factors in why he kills.

Nice nipple ring dude

However, I also don’t think it’s fair to assume that a negative representation was the point for the character’s confused sexuality/gender issues. It is mentioned by Lecter that Buffalo Bill isn’t really transsexual, rather he just hates himself so much he desires to be someone else and being a woman would fulfill that desire. This is vital to the motivation for his murders. He needed to have a reason that made sense in his head for abducting, killing, and skinning his victims for his suit. I know I might get slack for this but I don’t think this is a purposeful jab at the LBGTQ community, just like there are many women or black characters in fiction that may be antagonistic or villainous not because of their gender or skin color but because of their personality and actions. There is more to Buffalo Bill that has led to his warped interpretation of the world.  I’m going to chalk this up to freedom of expression in art, even if I found it personally on the distasteful side for the LBGTQ community.

There are oodles of motifs and themes coursing through this story. The idea of transformation is clear here in Buffalo Bill with the moths. Not only does Bill feel he is transforming into a new form with his suit, but he feels the women he kills are transformed as materials for his purpose. Death is also transformational in other regards, such as for Starling. Her father’s death and her uncle’s slaughter of the spring lambs transformed her from girl into one seeking to save others. Animals as representation of characters appear for both Starling as a lamb and Buffalo Bill as the moth. Lecter’s god complex is visually shown through his treatment of the guards body splayed open and positioned on the cage like an angel. The treatment of women as inferior or objects is repeated through the murders and how Starling is treated throughout the story.

Overall, this film lives up to praise and awards it’s received. It’s visually disturbing at points and hits all the right psychological notes to conjure nightmares. This solid of a tension fueled plot will never become dated. Watch it again, and then again.

Red Dragon

Certain characters rise above the basic idea of a crazed killer to become a pop culture phenomenon. Norman Bates from Psycho has been firmly planted in the minds of the public since the 1960’s as a memorably unique character. However, in more recent pop culture, the idea of a psychotic serial killer is exemplified by one highly intellectual doctor, Hannibal Lecter. Reading his debut in Red Dragon by Thomas Harris, his infamy is easy to recognize, even as a more minor character. With a book this good, it’s impossible not to have iconic characters and a permeant mark on the horror genre to spring forth.

To be clear, Red Dragon has two fascinating psychotic serial killer adversaries for the FBI and Will Graham to contend with. Lecter isn’t the primary threat, as he is locked up securely throughout the course of the story. The Red Dragon (the press initially calls him the Tooth Fairy) is the killer on the loose.

The Dragon is well built as a psycho; a shy man with an extreme case of low self-esteem and body-dysmorphic issues based on his hare-lip. Harris includes a backstory section that gives the reader the opportunity to see how the Dragon grew into the serial killer he is, yet he is careful to leave the tid-bits in the past for the reader to construct for themselves. Specifics on his trauma from his mentally ill grandmother as well as his unloving mother and step family seep into his method of killing and choice of victims. This was done brilliantly to allow the audience the feeling of piecing the Dragon’s mind together themselves. It also created a twinge of sympathy for the man, while building disgust of him by his actions.

At the same time, Harris takes care to give Lecter a chilling sense of mystery. Graham isn’t able to give any more insight into why Lecter kills besides the fact that he enjoys it. Lecter is unnervingly calm and calculating. His interactions with Graham and the Dragon are limited, yet the reader gets the sense he is manipulating some of the action, watching over the other characters and deriving pleasure from the blood spilt. His code to give the Dragon Graham’s home address leads not only to the end demise of the Dragon, but the eventual erosion of Graham’s marriage and physical harm to Graham. Readers can’t help but wonder if Lecter had planned this all along. While the Dragon draws some understanding and a bit of pity from the audience, Lecter is irresistible interesting without explanation. It’s no wonder audiences have been insatiable for the character ever since.

Will Graham is also a well-developed character. The audience instantly identifies with him from the opening scene- a man who has put his demons behind him to have a relaxed family life only to have the past pull him back. I think everyone can sympathize with that, people are often plagued by the past. Readers might identify with him as an empath type character that must confront human violence in its extreme over and over again. He’s not the gloating, glory seeking hero, which is refreshing. His intuition isn’t magical either. There is a whole cast of specialists that add to his natural gut-feeling. The hunt for the Dragon is pieced together a clue at a time, not in a quick accurate succession. Graham does find a way into the killer’s head, but it is hard and painfully won. Although Graham wasn’t the most interesting of the characters (who really can compete with two bizarre psychos?), he does manage to hold his own in the story. I cared about his and his family’s safety enough to feel the tension in the story.

I felt adding in the Reba McClane character to disrupt the killer’s routine was an interesting twist. People expect that psychos have a pattern that is repeated over and over again. Harris explores here what would happen if something occurred in such a life changing way that the pattern is broken. The Dragon has a set ideas of himself and the world, and along comes this beautiful blind woman (careful crafted to be a strong individual and not just some helpless victim) that gives him evidence the world is not as he has assumed. His concerns about his physical appearance don’t matter to her, and he is confronted with a genuinely loving interaction with a woman which he never had expereinced before. Harris splits the Dragon from the man and records the battel between them for the reader. I’m not sure exactly how I feel about this deviation for the killer. While this was an interesting peek into the complicated workings of the killer’s mind, it felt as if we had gotten off track as far as plot goes. Suddenly the next family on the list took a backseat and the possible redemption took over. It also made the surprise attack at the end awkward. The reader now perceives the Dragon as a troubled man, not a soulless killing machine. Having this character ruthlessly attack Graham in the manner he did just didn’t sit completely right with me. For some reason, I felt slightly disappointed.

The investigation felt authentic for the most part. At some points, it did seem that Graham had some special treatment I wasn’t positive he could get, such as being able to wander through the Leedes’ house/crime scene alone and being able to visit Lecter on a whim. However, I honestly have no idea what the FBI is actually capable of, so maybe I’m not the best person to judge the authenticity. Nothing popped out to me to be incredible inaccurate.

I would like to add that in many ways, The Sculptor felt like a poorly executed imitation of this book after examining them side by side.

Overall, this is a great read. Any little slips of head-hopping POV and such are invisible under the strong storytelling. A solid read that anyone who enjoys a good psycho and a creepy story. 

The Sculptor

Nothing is more of a letdown than a book that has a good concept but was executed poorly. The Sculptor by Gregory Funaro is definitely one of those books that underwhelms when it could have been something unique. From the plot, to the setting, to the unrealistic killer, this is a nightmare of a disappointing read.

Some of the concepts behind the killer caught my interest. I’ve long since been interested in Bodyworlds and the plastination process. The idea of a human being preserved in such a manner without consent is both unnerving and uncanny. Having the killer utilize this new preservation technique is a fascinating idea. Then Funaro adds an obsession with Michelangelo to the killer, so that he uses the plastination process to create replicas of the artist’s sculptures from human flesh. I’m still in. Sounds like a creepy yet smart sort of killer who selects his victims based on more than pure emotional/sexual gratification. Now add in some weird “awakening from the stone” purpose crud with incest and physical abusive mommy issues. Pile on warped homosexual urges, confusing spiritual revelations, and genius intellect. But, that’s not all! This guy is also a highly skilled chemist that is so buff he can lift a statue that took four FBI agents to carry. Plus, he’s a multi-millionaire. Sound believable? Yeah, I didn’t think so either. This psycho is conveniently overkill on every level he needs to be to the point he’s basically the Terminator (for the record, the book does reference him as looking like the Terminator).

The villain is perfect in every way he needs to be to not only kill but explain where his psychotic tendencies originated. Sadly, everyone else is perfectly suited to their role in the story as well. Pretty Dr. Cathy Hildebrant is flawless heroine material. Her only fault is putting up with her cheating ex for too long, however that was remedied by divorce at the beginning of the book. She has already moved on. FBI Agent Sam Markham is the perfect hero, using personal tragedy in his past to fuel his need to stop serial killers. They fall into a predictable romance, which works surprisingly well to track down the killer and save each other from him. Everything in pretty little boxes that are wrapped up in matching bows.

The plot is the standard serial killer on the loose, FBI agent on the case while protecting the main female character who the killer has a particular interest in. Yep, that straightforward. It’s been done into the ground. I think what makes this plot exceptional irritating is that there was no new spin on that formulaic structure. Actually, it wasn’t even done well as just the basic plotline. The authorities figure everything out about the killer like magic. There are no real surprises in their investigation. They actual use many of the phrases identically to the way the sculptor uses them, like referring to the people he kills as “materials” and guessing his vague “awaken from the stone” motivations. The POV hops head at random places when the  author felt someone else’s perspective was better at the moment, then hops somewhere else. My point is, all the characters, the POV, and the plot points were conveniently perfect to move the story along the way it needed to go.

Funaro did his research for this book. I’m sure he went through mounds of articles and books on Michelangelo to get all the information required for this novel. It shows, because he dishes out large chunks of this research in wads of info dumps throughout the story.  A large amount of the text was occupied by conversations that went into long speeches of background information on Michelangelo, his history, and theories regarding the artist and his work. At several points, Markham is discussing these topics with Cathy, who is an expert on Michelangelo, and reading her sections of her own book. At one point, he actually say “as you know” to her before going into a word vomit about information she already knew that came from her own book. This hurt some soft squishy place inside me. Why go through all the trouble to do such detailed research only to present it in info dumps that don’t engage the reader? Why?

As much as Funaro took steps to ensure the reader got ever bit of the information on Michelangelo he felt was necessary for the story, the sensory details and setting is severely lacking in this book. I forgot on several occasions where we were as far as location goes, not that the area itself was of any importance in the story. It could have taken place anywhere in the country and would have played out the same. No particular smells or sounds that left any impression me or engaged me deeper into the story. Funaro stuck mainly to describing the visual, except when he goes into the sensations of the painful “awakening” deaths. This only served to distance me further from the story.

The biggest let-down of this book was the ending. The overpowered villain is easily tricked by Cathy as she magically understands his twisted history with his mother in a sudden revelation. Cathy proceeds to hit all the right notes to get the sculptor to release her, as if she had studied his past in detail. Interesting, I didn’t realize she was psychic before that scene, but she must have been in order to pull off that performance. Our Hero, Sam, miraculously manages to survive numerous gunshots in order to save the heroine at just the right moment. She, in turn, is able to save them both moments later while everything goes up in over-budget explosions. Ka-boom! Yet, the final few paragraphs prove the Terminator style sculptor has survived the unsurviable in order to kill again. The whole ending is unrealistic and ridiculous. All I can guess is that the author wrote himself into a corner having Cathy captured by the sculptor and decided that he had no other option than to go all out unbelievable to wrap up the book.

One final thing I would like to note about this book is on themes and meanings. Funaro hinted, repeatedly, at several themes in this book but none of them panned out to make any sort of significant meaning. The “awakening from the stone” motive throughout the book was vague in that it seemed to be about the dwindling intellectual content of entertainment and arts in the modern world, then became about realizing the buried fear of life through death, and then about personal spiritual revelations that connected the sculptor to Christ in weird incest pact with his mother. By the end, it made zero sense what the sculptor hoped to accomplished with the killing or what the point of the book was. The same goes for the homosexual themes. Originally, the killer was profiled as being attracted only to males, mirroring Michelangelo, and only using males for his sculptures. I thought there was going to be some sort of theme building there about the cruel treatment he received regarding his sexual orientation that lead in part to his need to kill. Instead, the story shifted away from that towards the sexual relationship between the killer and his mother. I’m particularly fond of messages and themes in books. I want to feel a story has made me think about something, especially if it’s in a new light. In this story, nothing panned out. I would have rather there been no themes or underlying message at all than a bunch of weak attempts that amounted to nothing.

Overall, this a great book to show what not to do with a psycho. Even if you’re a fan of structured plots that give reader exactly what they are expecting, the info dumps and blandly perfect characters will likely leave an unsatisfying taste in your mouth. Now, I’m going to go take my copy of this book, soak it in acetone and light it on fire. Hopefully, it won’t survive.

The Church of Dead Girls

There is something magically to a reader about a book that opens with a great scene that sets the mood for the rest of the story to follow. On the other hand, there is something extremely frustrating about a story that doesn’t live up to that first scene. Sadly, The Church of Dead Girls by Stephen Dobyns falls into the latter category for me. Perhaps if I had started this book as a crime thriller I would be praising where it works well, but I found it disappointing.

The beginning chapter gives the reader a detailed tour of an attic where three dead girls are propped up and decorated in a deliciously creepy manner. The specifics of the scene hint at a psycho outside of the typical strangle/stab/shoot and dump the body sort of murder. Dobyns wets the audience’s appetite with this opening. I was itching to jump into this killer’s head and get to the juicy bits of crazy floating around in there. I was ready to tear into the book. However, I found the next chapters a letdown as the story pivoted away from being about a killer to the paranoia of a small dreary town where everyone knows everybody else’s business. It felt like being sold a ticket to an action movie and sitting through a historical drama that had a few battle scenes.

Dobyns builds the town of Aurelius believably. The cast of characters fill the range one would expect in every small town, from the trouble makers, to the political pot stirring outsider, to the tragic widower now a single parent, to the promiscuous woman that’s heated up the sheets of nearly every man in town. The issue I have with this approach is that the list of Aurelius’ inhabitants is long and annoying to read through. Everyone has history and people have complicated relationships with each other. It was difficult to connect deeply with any of the characters. I didn’t find any of them really likeable either, but I think part of that was the distance. These were people I was hearing about from afar rather than experiencing the story through them. I was peeping in their town, listening at the door and looking through windows. Dobyns may have put these characters at a distance to purposely give the reader the feel of spying on this little community and to provide a good chunk of suspects. However, this kept me from becoming invested in the characters and made much of this a chore to read.

The strange first person POV also kept me at a distance. The unnamed narrator is retelling the story much like someone gossiping at times. Other times, the narrator switches into a weirdly omniscient voice that is able to recount other character’s feelings and events that our first person narrator couldn’t possibly have any knowledge about. Not only is this an unreliable narrator, he’s an inconsistent and impossible one. I didn’t find the narrator any more likeable than the townsfolk, although I did empathize with him a smidgen more. He feels like an outsider in this community yet is roped into the town’s drama. Growning up in a small town myself that I didn’t fit well in, I can understand the narrator on that level. Beyond that, I felt as removed from him as I did with everyone else in Aurelius.

The slow deterioration of the town into chaos as the girls disappeared was well done. As I mentioned before, had I gone into this book from a thriller perspective I think I would have enjoyed it more. Watching the suspicions flare up the prejudices that lie just beneath the surface of the town was as chilling as the murders. In a way, the killer is almost an afterthought as the decent of the town consumes the majority of the plot. The group mentality here is unnerving; those considered outsiders are targeted first. The longtime residents can’t fathom that one of their own could possibly be responsible for the missing girls. The death of the new professor, who brought his Marxist viewpoints to the sleepy town, was a nice touch on showing the radical opposition to any ideas or beliefs that are not accepted by the community. Once the citizens turn on each other, violence and vandalism are rationalized as “doing the right thing” when in fact it is fear that is driving them. The case clearly made that no one can hide in a seemingly safe place from the evils of humanity.

The ending was handled with a heavy dose of symbolism. The killer is shot in the back, thereby betrayed, by his own brother, which mirrors how neighbor turned on neighbor throughout the ordeal. The cutting off of the left hand by the killer is his acceptance of his own sexual/dirty nature. The interesting twist at the end of the narrator stealing the killer’s hand and preserving it wrapped up the theme of the story perfectly – the brutal and sexual urges that plagued the killer can be found in everyone, so there is no one you can trust.

Overall, this is probably a better book than I’m giving it credit for here. I expected a story centered on a psychopathic murder, and when I didn’t get that story I was immediately discouraged. My disappointment colored my reading. Though the book is not without its faults, I will probably read it again the in the future as there were parts that interested me. So, if you’re looking for a book about a killer, look elsewhere. If you want a creepy glimpse into small town hysteria, this might be worth a read.