Dashingly Deadly Dexter

I have certain visceral pleasures that I can only maintain when they’re imaginary.  I can’t watch them on screen or I get squeamish.  Because of this, I can’t watch the TV show Dexter.  Not without hiding behind my fingers at least three times an episode.  However, it’s a show that everyone seems to think I’ll enjoy, so my compromise was to read the books on which Dexter was based.  So far I have read Darkly Dreaming Dexter and Dearly Devoted Dexter.

I love these books.  They’re smart, witty, and take the old “detective solves a murder” story and turns it on it’s heels.  I’m already going to put the third one on hold at the library.  For those who aren’t aware, Dexter is a sociopathic serial killer who only kills bad guys and is easy to love.  The first season of the Showtime series was based on the first book, but the series goes in different directions with the second book/second season.  I’ve only seen the pilot of Dexter, so I can’t definitively say which I like better.  But I love the books.  Dexter has a code and only murders bad guys, and he likes kids.  How bad can he be?  In the first book, Dexter has to hunt a serial killer who murders hookers very similarly to how Dexter kills his own victims.  In the second book, Dexter has to hunt a twisted individual chops people’s body parts off in a sadistic game of hangman.  Along the way, he makes sure that murderers – especially the kind that hurts kids – will never murder anyone else again.

Of course, a part of me doesn’t know if the originality of these books are refreshing or disturbing.  The author envisions this stuff, writes it down, and doesn’t seem to be suffering from the mental images he conjures up.    Of course, if it came down to reading the same tired plotlines again and again, or having the pleasure of being able to read Dexter, I choose Dexter.