I have been obsessed with true crime for more years than I feel comfortable mentioning. I should divulge that I mean true crime books. And the kind that came before Google and made for tv movies and a gazillion self help "this is why it happens" Dr. Somebody programs. I read a plethora of these books, rabidly I might add. I spent a majority of my school breaks and summers with my mothers long time boyfriend who was not exactly my father but may as well have been (and we won't get into the sordid details of that relationship). But the point of that mention being that he, too, like my father, and most of the men I was surrounded by during my "formative" years, was a lawyer. And lawyers love true crime. And their bookshelves are stocked with it.
Hence, I read it. In particular I was drawn to serial killers. I even joined a "serial killer book of the month club." These cases were always so incredibly "by the book" (so to speak) similar. Childhood of abuse (sexual and otherwise) neglect and deprivation...ya da ya da ya da...brain goes haywire. I literally ate these books up for breakfast lunch and dinner. I could not read or get enough of it.
And then I got pregnant with my daughter.
I completely gave up reading them. Because I suddenly became the parent of every victim I read about. And I no longer had compassion for the killer, in fact the killer could kiss my mother fucking ass and made me physically ill and why was anybody trying to help the fucking killer anyway?!?!?! Who cares where he came from??? Who cares if his mother burned his penis off???? Who cares???
I am a mother - leave my baby alone!
Now...many years since her birth and a good 6 into the second child's life, I have returned to this realm of reading. I do love the detective on the case find the clues and draw out the suspect with patience and fortitude aspect layout of these tales. When they are told right and not just for gratuitous violence and blood bathing, they are fascinating.
I no longer feel that personal offense, as though these crimes are a direct attack on me and mine. I can read them without consequence.
Which, in a full circle world, is equally as sad.
Hence, I read it. In particular I was drawn to serial killers. I even joined a "serial killer book of the month club." These cases were always so incredibly "by the book" (so to speak) similar. Childhood of abuse (sexual and otherwise) neglect and deprivation...ya da ya da ya da...brain goes haywire. I literally ate these books up for breakfast lunch and dinner. I could not read or get enough of it.
And then I got pregnant with my daughter.
I completely gave up reading them. Because I suddenly became the parent of every victim I read about. And I no longer had compassion for the killer, in fact the killer could kiss my mother fucking ass and made me physically ill and why was anybody trying to help the fucking killer anyway?!?!?! Who cares where he came from??? Who cares if his mother burned his penis off???? Who cares???
I am a mother - leave my baby alone!
Now...many years since her birth and a good 6 into the second child's life, I have returned to this realm of reading. I do love the detective on the case find the clues and draw out the suspect with patience and fortitude aspect layout of these tales. When they are told right and not just for gratuitous violence and blood bathing, they are fascinating.
I no longer feel that personal offense, as though these crimes are a direct attack on me and mine. I can read them without consequence.
Which, in a full circle world, is equally as sad.
stcyr:
I hate to disabuse the stereotype [okay, no I dont] but Im one lawyer that hates true crime, and legal fiction, courtroom dramas, etc. (except for To Kill A Mockingbird and Twelve Angry Men). I prefer my books, and entertainment to provide an escape from my professional life.