Baby Killer

In my Amazon review of Frank Cassese's novel, Baby Killer, I wrote that comparisons to Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho were unavoidable. They are and all because of reasons that will become quite clear soon enough. What you need to know now is that if you loved Ellis' book, think the title of this book is a bit much, and pride yourself on being a reader who is not afraid to have their boundaries destroyed ... well, you need to be purchasing this book pronto. Do not, however, expect the safety found in Ellis' work. Nope. This is most likely going to be uncharted territory for you.

The narrator of our tale, the one first dubbed the Baby Snatcher, is ... funny. Actually, he's quite funny at times. He's also obsessed with food, his workout schedule, his body, and music. He's also a killer of babies, which many would say makes him insane. Despite the killing, he is also easy to relate to in many ways, and as a reader, that can be poison. You see, while Ellis' book made an impression, it was only a brief one. Patrick Bateman was so over the top in that novel that he became unbelievable and unlikable at a certain point. Cassese's Baby Killer (I won't reveal his name) always comes across as someone you can see existing just down the street. In fact, you may feel like you know him. That makes the novel stick with you long after the final page. Well, that and the fact that the moments of shock of are actually shocking. It's not the violence that will shock you, though. It is when you read a single sentence and realize what is going to happen somewhere down the line. That takes an incredible writer to pull off as effectively as it is used here. Cassese does it like a seasoned pro.

The section simply titled "Juanita" opens with this gem: "I have always hated children. I probably hated myself as a child." It seems to be a simple two sentences, but it hits at the core of this novel, especially the second sentence. You see, it may or may not be a lie, but there is a lot of truth to it regardless. What is especially telling is that comes to the reader after the first victim has been disposed of in quite the intense fashion. We already assume he hates children. But ...

"Curiously, I don't detest babies with the same intensity that I reserve for young kids ..." Prior to the section of the book these lines appear in, the reader is simply sitting back for a ride. We get to know our narrator a bit, but it is from a distance. He reveals things about himself, and they are accurate details, but they still appear as if coming through a fog. Once we get to this part of the story, though, we become invested in the character in a way that should not be possible given his actions and thoughts. This is where the book begins to really set its hooks in for anyone paying attention. This is where it begins to defy expectations. And what expectations are there?

For most people who read books that are more ... extreme ... and for the media that sometimes pays attention, we all know there are books out there that are over the top, disturbing, gruesome, that deal with unsettling subject matter that is often taboo ... and they are poorly written. The writers of these novels treat their victims like they treat writing, which is all hack and no finesse. Those books are easily dismissed and forgettable. They appeal to the people who only watch gore-saturated horror movies and then only for the kills and the wet stuff. It's rare, almost unheard of, when a novel can take the truly horrific and make it work for the general reader. American Psycho did that, and look what happened to it in the media. Baby Killer does it, too, and better than Ellis' novel, and what will happen to it? Well, that is interesting to think about.

If it is a slow news day and some news show gets a hold of this book, the avalanche of disapproving, self-serving disgust will begin ... and it will be as ferocious as it is inaccurate. Many will not have even read the entire thing before wanting to declare it an obscenity. It will then sell copies to that gore crowd, who will in turn be disappointed because this is, after all, a thinking person's novel. That's if it is a slow news day. The thing that will most likely happen is the media may get a hold of this, and some people may actually read it all the way through, and if they do, they will refuse to let any coverage of it occur. To do so, after reading it and understanding just what is being written, will be looked at as being careless and dangerous. These gatekeepers of the news will decide the public is actually better off not knowing about the book. You cannot have a book about baby killing actually be an incredible, thoughtful, engaging read. That is out of the question.

Should it be?

For many, the answer is "yes." We should never sympathize or try to understand people who do horrific things. With that in mind, we should also never read fictionalized accounts of these acts for entertainment or enlightenment purposes. If we do, the writing and story should be so poorly executed that it is easily dismissed out of hand, which keeps us away from that verboten sympathy and understanding.

I could probably write a book on why this novel works the way it does. Instead, I'll mention another scene from it, a scene that has probably played out millions of times in real life. In it, our narrator has bought a device that disguises his voice. He is angry with the media coverage of his crimes and needs to let the police know this. He isn't a baby snatcher. He's a baby killer, and he needs to call them so they get it right during their press conferences. In making the purchase of batteries for the device, the female clerk's fingertips graze his palm. "It is exceedingly rare that I have any kind of physical contact with other humans."

That is less than 20 words and it tells you almost everything you need to know about the character right there. That is brilliance. That is why this book is dangerous. That is why it must be read.

Dangerous, envelope pushing works are no stranger to this book's publisher, Nine-Banded Books. After all, this is one of the few publishers willing to put out Peter Sotos' work. Readers of this infrequent blog will know how much of an impact Sotos has had on me. By publishing Cassese's work, 9BB is courting danger in a way few publishers would dare try these days. A book called Baby Killer about a baby killer that is actually funny, horrific, and engaging? Most publishers would rather steer clear of the potential controversy. We, the ones who do not mind reading challenging novels, are lucky 9BB has decided this work has merit. I'm sure every one of the major publishing houses would have dismissed this manuscript upon the seeing the title and reading the query, which is why they have not been all that relevant in decades.

Kudos to all involved in this novel. They have produced a book that not only lives up to its potential, but exceeds it in ways most writers only dream about. Now it is up to us, the readers who aren't afraid of being pushed out of our comfort zones, to give it the respect it deserves, to give it that open, honest read and then let people know why it is important. If you read this far, I'm thinking you are up to the challenge.

Monster: The American Psycho Story

"Oh, you're reading that?" is the answer I response I got when a lady asked what I was reading.  I was working in the Eureka, CA Pleasure Center, and she had stepped in to buy who knows what (probably a Pocket Rocket).  She asked what I was reading, and I held up the cover for her to see.  It took a moment because, as you can see here, the title is kind of broken up, and Ellis' name is the same size and in the same font as the title.

Her reaction to my reading of American Psycho told me two things: she had heard of the book and she had never read it.  Yes it is a nasty affair full of sordid images and dastardly deeds.  It is not, however, a full-on misogynistic how-to manual for dealing with women.  The look on her face told me she believed otherwise.

What she, and many others missed, is that like Fight Club, American Psycho isn't primarily about the violence.  It is about consumer culture and what it does to us.  Ellis' yuppie serial killer cannibal Patrick Bateman has all those things that are supposed to make us "happy."  Money.  Women.  Expensive toys.  A good job that he doesn't even need.  Yet he feels isolated and wants nothing more than to fit in.  Towards the end of the book he is losing touch with reality at such an alarming rate that readers can't even tell if the crimes he committed are real (again, much like Fight Club).  It's not a novel about killing women.  It's a novel about culture killing us.

Despite that, controversy lives on.  Some countries only allow it to be sold if it is shrink-wrapped, and only then if you are 18 or older.  (Hell, I want teens to read this.  By the time they reach adulthood the sticky rapist hands of consumer culture are already firmly around their throats.)  Some continue to say Ellis hates women.  I think a far more simple truth, and one that is more disturbing, is that Ellis, when writing this, hated himself and what he was becoming.  He has alluded to that in interviews.  If we accept that answer, though, we have to start seeing all those trappings in ourselves, and that is a very uncomfortable position to be in.  Does that make us just as insane as Bateman?  No.  Bateman is exaggerated for effect.  It does make us understand him better, though, and that is one thing people really hate doing -- understanding the monster.  Once you understand them a bit better, you stop hating them as much.

Bateman wanted to relate to people, but had no idea how to do it, and he ended up killing them (maybe) and doing all sorts of awful tortures.  By destroying them, he was destroying the things he hated about himself in an effort to finally get to that oft-praised plane of self-actualization that is essential to personal happiness.  He was too ill-suited to reach that, however, and went mad (or was mad the entire time).

The end result is not an attack on women but an attack on our current value system.  It's no wonder certain people ignored that and went for the obvious.  We have become so attached to this thing called consumer culture that we can't even recognize valid criticisms of it.  Or we are scared that by recognizing them we question our own existence.  Either way, the attacks on Ellis' work were unwarranted and misguided at best.  At worst they were hypocritical and juvenile.  Peter Sotos he ain't.