Serial Murder Books

This book is really defeated in its purpose by the rather silly selectivity and obvious agenda of its authors, who are presenting themselves as objective commentators while putting forward a rather selective and biased set of 'facts' in order to try beyond all reason to keep the dull dead question of the 'ripper diary' alive.

They strive, manfully (and womanfully) to give the impression that this is a book delving into a deep and dark mystery; that they are like Howard Carter illuminating buried gold with their brave candle of enquiry, and to keep this 'Unsolved Mysteries' atmosphere going they pump smoke and questionmarks over what is actually a pretty straightforward situation.

The dull truth beyond this comic gothic 'but how!?' style of presentation, is the 'diary' is a fake. It is almost certainly a modern fake and the only question (and not really a very interesting one) is which one of a fairly small group of contenders may have actually done the forging.

In an endeavour to make this dull uninteresting reality into an ongoing 'mystery' the trio of authors have to play some rather curious and bizarre word games with the truth, and claim deep dark 'uncertainties' where there are really none.

They fuddle the results of the ink tests (which pretty conclusively showed the ink was modern), and gasp and sigh and scratch their heads in bafflement over 'puzzles' and motivations that wouldn't in reality give a five year old much pause.

Because of this ludicrous inflation, it becomes a totally unreliable and rather silly work, striving to be far more self-important and meaningful than it ever could be. Rather a pointless volume really which is like a personification of flogging the proverbial, long dead, horse.

The controversy that has existed for some twelve or thirteen years over the Ripper Diary is remarkable. Recently, I watched a special on Discovery Channel about dinosaurs - specifically over the paleontologists' controversy concerning whether the Tyrannosaurus Rex was a predator or a scavenger.

The recurring arguments were made civilly enough, and at the end, a consensus was starting to form. It was a startling reminder that it really is possible for academics to disagree with one another without coming to blows.

This book about the Ripper Diary isn't for beginners. The authors presuppose that their readers will be familiar generally with the reputedly "unsolved" murder mystery that is Jack the Ripper and the controversy surrounding the bona-fides of the "Ripper Diary" and the "Ripper Watch" that both identify Jack as Liverpool cotton broker, James Maybrick, as well as the salient points regarding the diary and the watch, the facts of the Ripper case, and the facts of James Maybrick's life.

They also presuppose that the reader has read all previous books written about the Ripper Diary, including the Shirley Harrison and Paul Feldman books and Anne Barrett's book about the life of Florence Maybrick.

A number of years ago, under a different screen name, I predicted that history would indeed proclaim that James Maybrick was Jack the Ripper on the strength of the Diary, which would ultimately be acknowledged as genuine - but that there was too much contentiousness in the field of "Ripper Studies" to expect this to happen in our lifetime.

This book certainly supports that prediction. Jack the Ripper devotees do not have the ability that paleontologists do to put aside their differences in the common interest of expanding knowledge. This book's "inside story" of the Ripper Diary is largely one of annihilation of the people closest to the diary.

The lion's share of blame falls on the diary's detractors, who seem to have borrowed or anticipated the Clinton/Carville game plan of using the politics of intellectual dishonesty and personal destruction as a weapon against the diary and its proponents. This book recounts how they portray the diary as an ancient forgery when that suits their needs and as a modern forgery when it becomes time to again shift the goalposts.

It recounts how Melvin Harris, the private detective that Harris uses as his goon, segments of the Ripperology establishment, and their followers from the Casebook bulletin board accuse everyone remotely connected with the diary of having "forged" it. It recounts how, like a modern-day Inquisition, these people harass their suspects, attempt to coerce confessions from them, and then as cowards and bullies have done since time immemorial, cry "foul" when their targets defend themselves or retaliate.

The anti-diary camp has used its numbers and abused the legal system to turn mere belief in the authenticity of the diary or even belief in it as an item of historical interest into an Orwellian thought-crime, and this is a principal reason why this reviewer has extricated himself from active involvement with the controversy.

But if the book shows that many diary antagonists are bad people, it also shows how those closest to the diary have been criminally stupid or inept. Those within the pro-diary camp might have been expected to band together against the monsters trying to silence them.

Instead, we see them foolishly allowing their already small numbers to split into smaller factions on the basis of varying financial interests. The book's authors, by the way, spend too much time discussing these financial interests. I doubt that anyone is interested in as much detail as the book provides. Still, as a result, there is a paucity of cooperation between the competing factions WITHIN the pro-diary camp.

A major flaw in this book is that too much time is spent castigating Paul Feldman for his role in this schism, for the clumsiness of his method of investigation, and for his tendency to jump to conclusions too quickly. The criticisms may well be just, but notwithstanding Feldman's flaws, not enough credit is given to him for discoveries that buttressed the Ripper-Maybrick connection.

In particular, there is no mention whatsoever of the very real possibility, advanced by Feldman, that Albert Johnson, owner of the Ripper watch, is himself a Maybrick descendant.

More prominent examples of foolishness from the diary camp include Michael Barrett's alcohol-induced on-again, off-again "confession" of having himself "forged" the diary, as well as his estranged wife Ann's too-lengthy silence concerning her knowledge of the diary's origins and her ridiculously clumsy attempts to palm the diary off on her husband without his knowing of her involvement. These are the very activities which probably render impossible full rehabilitation of the diary in our lifetime.

Mrs. Barrett (nee` Graham), by the way, defends her actions and her indifference to the diary's story on the grounds of its irrelevance to her personal concerns, as well as the vast number of atrocities that have occurred since the Ripper murders in 1888. Interestingly enough, as I write this in 2004, London is again being stalked by a serial killer - who uses a hammer. Mrs. Barrett should have considered that if the Ripper Diary is accepted as authentic, the tortured story that it tells may shed light on the very issue which concerns her: the inhumanity that humans often inflict on one another.

This hardly qualifies as empirical reasoning, but one could almost make a case for the Diary being a genuine relic of Jack the Ripper SOLELY on the basis of the human cost that the Diary has exacted over a century after James Maybrick was laid in his grave. This human cost is also almost enough to convince one of the soundness of the mystic's belief that evil is a tangible factor which can survive an individual's death and rest in an inanimate artifact. Only God knows whether this human cost actually results from the depravity of the dead or of the living.

This is a balanced, readable, well-written account of the furious debate surrounding Jack the Ripper's Diary. After reading this, the only possible conclusion is that the Diary is authentic. Skinner's team explains all the questions, and logically concludes that it couldn't have been forged. The look at the behind the scenes work is wonderful, and the photos are excellent. This book is a great companion to the books by Shirley Harrison, Paul Feldman, and Anne Graham. My only quibble: the authors repeat themselves at times.

In 1993 there seemed, at least for a brief time, that a solution to the question of "Who was Jack the Ripper?" had been found. A diary supposedly written by James Maybrick of Liverpool, recording his activities as the famous murderer, was released. Immediately a firestorm of controversy exploded, if for no other reason than the whole scenario seemed unbelievable -- Maybrick was a well-known figure in his own right, being the victim of a famous murder in 1889. Was the diary genuine? Experts weighed in on both sides of the question. Test results were ambiguous -- was the diary a recent forgery or was it decades old (and if decades old, was it a decades-old forgery)? The handwriting did not resemble that of Maybrick's will, but claims were made that the will itself was a forgery. The man credited with bringing the diary forth claimed in an alcoholic haze that he had forged the diary, then rescinded his claim (and, admittedly, forging the diary seems a bit beyond his capabilities). An old watch inscribed with the name of James Maybrick and with the initials of the Jack the Ripper victims was discovered, supporting the diary's authenticity, and a number of experts who examined the watch believed that the inscriptions had been made many years ago. To this day, no-one knows for sure about the Maybrick diary, although I think it fair to say that the majority of Ripperologists do not accept it. "Ripper Diary" is the story of that controversy, not seeking either to authenticate or refute the Maybrick diary, but presenting a detailed account of the people involved and what happened to them. There are no final answers here, but I think that anyone seriously interested in Jack the Ripper (and the phenomenon of fascination with Jack the Ripper) would be rewarded by reading this book -- if not to change or make up their minds about the Maybrick diary, then at least to better understand the sequence of events and the nature of the controversy.

Tanenbaum is usually very good. Not this time. Book is marred with disjointed plot, unbelievable characters, and an ending that is silly beyond belief. Pass.

First off, you did Mr. Tanenbaum a distinct dis favor in only publishing one review; I find that review totally out in left field. You have cost him many sales, I am sure; I bought several of his and passed up on that one just because of that re view, and had an opportunity to read someone else's copy wanting to find out why it was so bad. It was not, it is one of his better stories. It is different, I admit, but Tanenbaum has the art of making almost anything highly enter taining, as he did with this. His technique of keeping up with the lives of his characters are one of the series's strong points. I very highly recommend this book to any Tanenbaum fan, to any police story fan.

Although Immoral Certainty is one of Robert K. Tanenbaum's older Butch Karp novels it is well worth a read by fans, or even readers new to the series.

First published in 1991, this book goes back to the earlier days of the Karp-Ciampi association. Admittedly, this oddball couple may be an acquired taste. But their sizzling relationship is buttressed by a deep respect for each other's legal abilities. The author's own experience and understanding of the arcane world of the legal system enables him to lift improbable plot into the realm of logic and feasibility.

In fact, as Tanenbaum points out, the art of successfully nabbing criminals consists in a large part of the attending to boring minutiae by the foot soldiers of the prosecutorial staff. In the writer's own words, "The law radiates tedium the way a ballet does grace or an orchestra harmony." Fortunately for the reader, Tanenbaum sweeps us through the crucial humdrum of a criminal trial and highlights the nexus, so we all can delude ourselves, briefly, that we are as clever as a Butch Karp or a Marlene Ciampi. He connects the dots for us even as we are seduced by his seemingly far-fetched plots and sub-plots.

In this book, Marlene becomes acquainted with firearms and we are introduced to her bewitched fascination with their violent potential. "I don't know," she says after an initial visit to the firing range, "it had an effect on me I didn't expect." It turns out she's a natural. It is one of the ongoing talents of her character that becomes both useful to her and repelling to this reader.

Tanenbaum's characters are always interesting, although occasionally conveniently naïve. An example is the schoolteacher Anna who buys her sociopath boyfriend's explanation that the reason he uses a variety of credit cards with other people's names on them is because they are "corporate cards." True, the author says she has a reasonably sharp brain that is disengaged in the boyfriend's company "in favor of another set of organs entirely." But Anna is not unattractive and this descent into bimbo-ism stretches the imagination.

Yet overall, the writer pulls this intense story together. Tanenbaum is always engaging.

Misogynist, Vicious, and Vulgar: All of these sins we would forgive, if only the novel were funny. Its failure to amuse results, in part, from the fact that the author has not bothered to flesh out his story. He initiates a scene and then inserts three dots and skips to another without creating a coherent narrative. We have an outline of a parody of contemporary graduate English studies with no substance. An equally serious failure is the author's unawareness of the state of English departments in today's universities. The job market did not collapse because senile professors were holding on to tenured positions, as Conley suggests, but rather because University administrators determined that they could no longer afford to pay people to worry about the number of syllables in a line of Chaucer. Undergraduate English is taught by adjunct part-time faculty members while graduate English departments are dying by attrition. There is good grist for parody's mill in this! situation, but Conley has not taken advantage of it. The situations and characters in this novel are simply not recognizable. Good parody requires an intimate knowledge of the subject. This book seems to have been written about another time and place. For a very funny parody of the traditional graduate English department, see A. S. Byatt's Possession.

The dean of my college gave me a copy of this book because he thought I could relate to the problems TAs have, as narrated so expertly in this masterpiece. I could, and I loved this book! Anyone who wants to read a highly intellectual account of what is going wrong in our nation's English departments should read a boring (and they all are) and useless dissertation. This book is meant for those who want some lighthearted reading and the chance to live out their imaginations through the actions of Mr. Meade. The Meade solution may well be the best laugh you'll get out of school-related material for a long, long while. Enjoy!

Highly recommended as escapist fiction for the overworked graduate teaching assistant. At 144 pages, it's a quick read and can easily be sandwiched in between the 1000+ pages you need to read for your graduate classes and grading those 500+ essays and quizzes from your teaching assignment. And the subject of the book, the removal by various methods, including murder, of selected faculty members will fulfill the secret wishes of many a harried graduate student. The main fault of the novel is that it is dated. That the time frame of the novel is the 1970s is apparent from several overt clues. The cokes in the vending machines are in bottles. The characters listen to records. A female graduate student wants to write her dissertation on Rod McKuen. Not only do most of the characters smoke; they do so in the English department halls, their offices and even in the faculty lounge---an activity that has been illegal on most college campuses for the past several years. And there are slightly more subtle clues. While quite a bit of sexual high jinks goes on, there is no mention of HIV/AIDS. Some of the sexual couplings involve faculty and students, yet there is no mention of sexual harassment lawsuits. While at a MLA conference in Houston, one of the faculty members wanders into a seedy neighborhood near downtown. Instead of being the victim of a gang drive-by as he would be today, he is offered a flower and the comfort of a communal Christian cult by a pair of what used to be known as Jesus freaks. This could be remedied by the addition of the phrase, "In the fall of 197-..." at the start, which would help the reader more quickly place the action of the novel in the correct historical and mental context. Having been a Teaching Assistant, albeit in a different subject field, I recognized many of the academic character types among both the faculty and graduate students portrayed in this novel. Readers over 40, especially those who were graduate students during the 1970s, will probably enjoy this book more than younger readers do. Although the scene where the Head of the department must take over teaching a sophomore literature survey class will bring a wry smile on the face of any past, present or future TA. ""You're not going to like me," he said. "I am an intellectual snob. And I love literature. I know that you do not even like literature. I know that you are only in this class because you have to take it for your degree programs. You would rather be anyplace else than in this classroom. But while you are here, you had better make me think that you love literature, because I love literature, and I have the grade book." ... Out in the classroom, among the sophomores, genuine terror prevailed." Been there, wished that.

This could have been a much better book had it been cut by a good 100 pages. It was simply toooooooo long. The author took too many side trips to court that had zero to do with the plot. He's obviously in love with the sound of his own voice - we aren't. I was afraid if I heard one more time that Jake Lassiter was a "big beefy man" at 6 ft and 225 lbs.," I was going to scream. The author must be a little guy if he thinks this is big - it's average. Yes, he had some funny lines, but they didn't stop the book from being boring. The ending was pretty far fetched and most of the "surprises" weren't. I mean, who didn't figure out Bobbie? I scanned at least the last 150 page. They weren't that interesting. Would I read another book by this author? I don't think I have that much time left on earth to waste.

I love Paul Levine's books, especially this one and his first novel. Witty, opinionated in a funny yet relevant way, and has a good plot too! Try this book!

NIGHT VISION is author Paul Levine's second outing with ex-Miami Dolphin-turned-lawyer Jake Lassiter. Written in 1990 ("Too soon for the WWW" as Levine once lamented), the story of NIGHT VISION concerns a serial killer using an Internet chat service to troll for victims, a novel idea at the time (no pun intended).

While too many of the one-liners are retreads from TO SPEAK FOR THE DEAD, Levine has a stronger grasp on Lassiter's character this time around. Lassiter's social commentary on South Florida is piercing, and Lassiter himself seems less bumbling, hence less foolish, than in the earlier novel.

The actual hunt for the signature killer is engaging, though the intervening fifteen years since NIGHT VISION was first published have added immensely to the professional literature on serial killers. Levine's research on multiple-murders consequently appears a little thin, circa 2005. It seems a flaw but it isn't.

There are flaws. Levine unfortunately distracts himself with too many two-bit characters who add nothing to the story, and by adding nothing, dilute the plot. The interrelationships between the characters are "Six Degrees of Separation"-ish, as all the protagonists know or are sleeping with each other.

The humor seems a little forced at times. Levine simply tried too hard in spots. Not every comment requires a snappy rejoinder.

Still, NIGHT VISION compels you to keep turning its pages. Jake Lassiter is the kind of guy you'd want for a friend or neighbor, and he's at least competent at his profession (high praise, when one considers the public view of lawyers nowadays); it's a pleasure to find a J.D. who's not an S.O.B.

Enjoyable light reading that comes well recommended.

This is the finest book on the subject, addressing not what serial killers ARE but why we make them the way they are, how they function for us, and why we need them. The prose is witty, direct, and precise; the argument is more chilling than any horror story.

Typical of postmodern "theory," the writing is needlessly complex, which, also typical of postmodernists, hides the fact that the author is substantively ignorant of the topic and has no insight to offer. If you can sort through the jargon, this book basically argues that serial murders would not happen if we just ignored the killers, because they are part of a "discursive" loop, in which the killers are a sort of performer who kill to please their audience, which is the public. The author is oblivious to work done in psychology, criminology, sociology, and FBI investigations. Overall, the book is a flight from reality, which would be humorous if the topic were not so serious.

I found this to be a good book, given the relatively difficult topic, very informative (another person's (Richard's in this case) is always usefully anyhow; however, this is the most hardest of reading material that I have ever come across. ADVICE: One Korean Gingseng and no alcohol before opening Richard's Book.

In UNVEILING CLAUDIA author Daniel Keyes tells the story of Claudia Yasko, a beautiful but emotionally troubled young woman who falsely confesses to having been present during a triple murder. Yasko, who is presented as suffering from latent schizophrenia, appears to have had psychological problems since childhood, which, when combined with considerable drug use as a young adult, became considerably more severe as she got older.

The first part of the book tells of Claudia's confession to the police which included some minute details which could have been known only by someone who had been at the scene of the killings. Claudia is arrested but subsequently released from jail with the charges dropped as other information is developed which leads to the arrests and convictions of two brothers for these as well as other murders. After her arrest and during the time she spent in jail Claudia exhibited great difficulty in distinguishing reality from fantasy. She often retreated mentally to scenarios in which she became an actress playing a role in a film about whatever difficulties she may have found herself in.

Some time after the murder cases were disposed of, Claudia came to the author Keyes asking him to write a book about the case and her life.
Keyes spent over two years trying to "unveil" Claudia, that is to try to understand her mental processes and, specifically to try to determine how, if she were not present during the murders, she came to possess the detailed knowledge she had of the crime scene. The process was extremely difficult for Keyes due to Claudia's tenuous grasp of reality. And the difficulty was greatly increased as Claudia compulsively lied to Keyes, even when she was aware of the truth, because, as far as I can tell, that is just the way she is. Eventually, though, Claudia provided Keyes with a scenario which explained her knowledge of the details in question without her having been present at the actual crime. And Keyes accepted this scenario.

UNVEILING CLAUDIA is fast paced, well written, and interesting to read.
Keyes clearly has done a lot of research, both in his interviews with Claudia and his cross checking with other people involved either centrally or periphally, and all of these interviews are recorded in the book, creating a feeling of thoroughness.

Ultimately though, despite the positives I have noted, UNVELING CLAUDIA, fell short for me. The main goal of the book seems to have been to crack the riddle of explaining Claudia's intimate knowledge of the crime scene without her having been there, and Keyes eventually accepts a scenario which does that. However, by then Claudia has provided Keyes with many other stories and then recanted them as Keyes' further research
found them to be unlikely. The story he finally accepts, while it may be true, does not really seem to me to be any more likely than the others. In other words there is really no reason to believe any of Claudia's explanations.

I had hoped and expected that the major focus of UNVEILING CLAUDIA would Claudia's personality and psychology and that the culmination of the book would be an in depth analysis of her diagnosis at the time the book was written and of the events in her past which caused her to be what she became. But, while her psychological condition is by no means ignored and in fact is the main reason for the book having been written, there is very little about her childhood or her upbringing, and certainly no final analysis of her condition. The book ends with Keyes' finally accepting a possible explanation for the riddle of Claudia's crime scene knowledge, and that's it. In short, what I feel could have been a more important -"bigger"- book ends in an unfortunately small and anti-climactic manner.

UNVEILING CLAUDIA is hardly a bad book, but it could have been better. Three stars.

i read this after being similarly disappointed by Keyes "The Minds of Billy Milligan" (i read them because i loved "Flowers for Algernon" also by Keyes). both "non-fiction" works are based on the accounts of people who have been diagnosed as mentally ill, and both accounts i feel are unreliable. in this book you learn that Claudia made up a story for police partially giving them what they wanted to hear. i believe she did the same thing for Keyes here. there is no way of knowing when she is telling the truth and when she is lying and there is no reason to believe that any more than half of what she says is true. at times she says she doesn't remember anything and at other times she gives conflicting information in great detail. either way, luckily the real killers were caught and spent the rest of their lives behind bars.

Daniel Keyes has done it again. Another great book he has done. Riveting like all the others.

I have read a lot worse. five stars? no. one star? no. solid three star book. I gave it five to avg. out at three, because I didn't think the prior review should have given a one. I loved his first book Alias Jack the Ripper. This is the third book, and I consider Chapman as the possible Ripper in the U.K. As for the U.S.A. it's a big stretch. However, not impossible, because as other books site, and newspaper articles, and police files Chapman was in fact in the New York area during at least part of this time..... It cannot be disproved like some suspects we know they were in prison at the time and so on. It is also a fact that around this time 'The Yard' sent an investigator from the U.K. to the U.S.A ......... The crimes are gone into great detail and here is the strong point of the book. Of course there is very little to connect Chapman to these murders in New York, and New Jersey. However, if you enjoyed his first book, and consider Chapman a Ripper Suspect...... I'd suggest for you to get this book..... You will enjoy. If your after a good solid case, I'm sorry the evidence just isn't enough to convict..

Gordon (Alias-Jack the Ripper: Beyond the Usual Whitechapel Suspects) here attempts to convince readers that following his funny little games in Whitechapel in 1888, Jack, whom he identifies as Severin Klosowski, went on tour in 1891, racking up another four kills in the New York/New Jersey area. While the information on the four alleged victims is quite thorough, Gordon fails to provide sufficient evidence to prove his theory. Few of the American victims follow the killer's established MO: only one was a prostitute, and only a single body was butchered. One was shot and another strangled and left intact. The murders were sloppy and amateurish and smack of robberies gone bad. Jack's crimes also took place within roughly a square mile of London-no doubt very close to his residence-while these murders are spread long distances apart in two states. The writing itself is quite uneven, and many of the illustrations amateurish. Diehard fans might find this interesting, but otherwise it's just another Ripper theorist Jacking off. Not recommended.-Michael Rogers, "Library Journal"

Hokey characters and plot. A waste. Not recommended

I read Bledsoe's Bitter Blood a few years ago. It was a fantastic book. The story intriged me so much that when I saw Deadly Kin, I purchased it. What a waste of money.

The brother of Susie Lynch tells "his" perception of what happened. It wasn't very realistic. He tried to remove nearly all the blame from Susie Lynch and put it all on Fritz Klenner. Now, don't get me wrong, Klenner was responsible for the murders, however, Susie was not just an "innocent, who was confused" as Newsome would like us all to believe.

Trotter' chapters in the book aren't much better. The writing is poor, the flow of the book is poor, and the entire purpose of putting out this book utterly ridiculous.

The book does not delve deep enough to shed any new light on this crime. You could have learned more just by reading the newspaper accounts.

It's this writer's opinion that that Robert Newsome wanted to grab some of the limelight for himself, and make a little extra cash on the side, while exploiting his "fame" by being related to both victim and killer. He would have been better off writing a book about himself, his drug addition, his own family matters, etc. It would have been more interesting.

I thought about this book when I was thinking about the Columbine murders. The book discusses a theory on how Fritz Klenner became the serial murderer that killed the Newson and Lynch Families. There is a discussion regarding the effect of how books such as the Turner Diaries represent a dangerous form of pornography and how exposure to these books could create Fritz Klenners. An important book to read when trying to understand the mindset of the murderers at Columbine High. Was it exposure to books like the Turner Diaries sold at gun shows that caused these kids to develop their sick fixations? We will never know but the author insightfully discusses how this form of pornography (graphic accounts of murder) is the most dangerous form there is of pornography.

Books on serial killers are hardly rare, and most of them are written in a novelistic way that causes them to sensationalize the crime. This book is not your average true crime story, and rather than titillate the reader, it provides insights not usually found in most books of the genre.

The book begins by detailing the disappearance of Heather Dawn Church from her home in the suburbs of Colorado Springs. It details the efforts to attempt to find her and the person responsible for her abduction. From that point, it shifts to the lives of the three men who would ultimately come together to work as volunteers on cold cases.

After a relatively brief view into the apprehension and conviction of her killer, as well as his appeals, the book shifts focus again and begins to look at the aftermath of the crime. Robert Browne, who pled guilty to her murder, sent an interesting letter to the DA after he had lost all courtroom battles. The letter suggested that there were more bodies to be found, and that Browne was the responsible party.

The book is a wonderful look at the way a crime is solved; not with bells and whistles, but with long, hard work. It is also a look, in depth, into the game of cat and mouse that is played by the hunted and the hunters. It offers an interesting look into the mind and psyche of a serial killer.

There are no pictures, and this is not a "sensational" true crime story. Rather it is a methodical look at how police work is done in the real world. An excellent read, if you are not looking for the titillation factor.

As far as true crime goes, this book was quite a disappointment. It wasn't particularly gripping, it doesn't draw particularly strong portraits of the victims, and even the three self-appointed cold case detectives seem a bit dull.

Among other problems in the text, there is entirely too much background information given for each person working the case. I started skipping many pages of this material because it simply wasn't interesting. The writing style of the book just wasn't gripping, and a great deal of material could have been cut out. The narrative gets quite sidetracked more than once.

And some words on the "serial killer" label on the title page: it's there to sell books. The detectives were unable to locate or identify many of the victims pointed out by Browne (the killer). In fact, the impression I got from this is that Browne, like some other killers before him, was playing with detectives, upping the number of so-called kills in order to get attention and privileges. Browne is an unreliable speaker, and you begin to feel that the narrator is unreliable just for telling you all of this without ever taking a long, long hard look at Browne's credibility.

While it seems likely that Browne killed multiple times, the book makes little effort to apply psychology to why Browne claims all of these kills now. Most true crime readers are probably used to a bit of psychology in their reading, and they should be warned that it is quite absent here. This is much more of the old-fashioned-detective-work, gumshoe, knock-on-doors (no CSI) approach to crime-solving. Such a book could have made for a very intersting departure from the norm, but, again, for the reasons listed above, it does not. A little psychology would help shore up the book's crumbling foundations.

Another warning to true crime fans: you're probably used to seeing pictures of the detectives, snapshots of the victims while alive, perhaps crime scenes. This book has no photos. I'm not trying to be ghoulish; I'm just pointing out a departure from the norm.

All in all, this was not a satisfactory experience. A week after reading the book, I can recall only a few details about the central victim and can say very little about the killer. What I do remember is frustration with the text and annoyance with the detectives' seemingly endless credulity.