Book Review: The Dexter Trilogy (Darkly Dreaming Dexter, Dearly Devoted Dexter, Dexter in the Dark) by Jeff Lindsay

I admit it: I'm fascinated by serial killers. From Ed Gein to Henry Lee Lucas to Ted Bundy to Jeffrey Dahmer, those individuals who commit gruesome murders, often according to some kind of pattern or design, intrigue me. I'm not sure how one gets to the point of being able to eliminate other human beings without any seeming sense of remorse or regret, but there's something inside these people that obviously makes that possible. And that's the fascinating part. These people regularly cross a line that the vast majority of us find untenable, placing themselves outside of "normal" human society. They're a dark mirror, revealing to us a dark part of ourselves that we ordinarily keep suppressed.

Of course, serial killers, both in fact and fiction, make up some of the darkest icons of our collective unconscious. Who hasn't heard about Jack the Ripper, and the horrific murders he committed in London's Whitechapel district in 1888, or Thomas Harris's greatest literary creation, killer and gourmand Hannibal Lechter? Even such cinematic favorites as Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, and Freddy Kruger take their inspiration from such real life fiends as Andrei Chikitillo, Albert Fish, and Danny Rolling.

And then there's Dexter, the creation of author Jeff Lindsay. By day, Dexter Morgan is a blood spatter analyst for the Miami Police Department, but beneath his charming, laid-back exterior, Dexter harbors a horrific secret: he's a serial killer, far worse than most of the people he helps send to jail. Dexter is no ordinary serial killer, however. He only kills those who have, in turn, murdered others and somehow gotten away with it. He's a serial killer with a code, a code he takes very seriously.

That's what makes Dexter an interesting character, a new take on the old serial killer model. Most serial killers, real or fictitious, prowl the nights, stalking their innocent victims whose only crime might be to have long, straight brown hair, or to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Not so Dexter. He actually performs a public service, eliminating undesirables from the community when the courts fail. Like Batman or Daredevil, he rids the world of vermin that have been placed beyond the reach of the law, and, believe it or not, we love him for it.

And therein lies the strength of Lindsay's writing, that he makes us care about this bloodthirsty human being. It's not easy to find a serial murderer likable and charming, especially when you're fully aware of his extracurricular activities, but somehow, Lindsay pulls it off.

The majority of the first two books are told through Dexter's interior monologue, which displays both the strength and the weakness of Lindsay's writing. The choice of narrative focus allows Lindsay to, literally, get into Dexter's head, which makes him a fascinating character. We see the world through Dexter's eyes, as if we were tagging along with him on his gruesome journey, and we experience, with him, the thought processes that occur before, during, and after one of his murders. It's an intriguing perspective, albeit a fictional one. 

The cost of this singular POV, however, is to the secondary characters, especially Dexter's sister, Deborah, his girlfriend, Rita, and his assortment of friends, none of whom are as well developed or as interesting as Dexter himself. They all run through the book, going through the motions that Lindsay requires, never becoming more than two-dimensional caricatures. We never develop an attachment to them or really care about their ultimate fate, because they're no more real than cartoon characters, included as mere window dressing.

It's for this very reason that this becomes that rarest of instances, a time in which the adaptation (i.e. the Showtime series) is actually better than the books upon which it is based. With such wonderful actors as Michael C. Hall as Dexter, Julie Benz as Rita, and Jennifer Carpenter as Deborah, these characters finally take on three-dimensional life. Deb and Rita actually become well-rounded, realistic characters, as do other members of the supporting cast through the wonderful moments and subplots given to them by the series' writers. The biggest beneficiary of this development is Deb; in the books, she's nothing but an eternally angry cop, there simply to feed information to Dexter and to allow him to solve the case. The Showtime series actually makes her a real character, with feelings and ideas and a real backstory. She actually helps to move the plot along, rather than just existing as a talking signpost. By doing this, Dexter seems even more removed from humanity, and thus more terrifying.

As for the books themselves, Lindsay writes in a pulpy, potboilerish style that keeps the plot advancing, resulting in a fast, easy read. The first two books are stylish and thrilling, but the third veers off into some bizarre territory involving supernatural elements that might have been best avoided. Although all three books are fun, the third is definitely the weakest of the lot.

Lindsay's biggest problem as a writer is in the payoffs of his novels. By the time one reaches the end, it feels as if the author has grown bored with his story, and wants to wrap it up as quickly as possible. This makes for a highly unsatisfying conclusion, especially given all that the reader (and Dexter) have gone through to get to that point.

So, finally, the books are certainly recommended as something different in the area of serial killer fiction, but the Showtime series carries an even higher recommendation, especially for the performance of Michael C. Hall who, by all indications, is certainly an actor to watch.