3 posts tagged “true crime”

Simon Baatz has written a thorough, workmanlike account of the notorious thrill-killing that inspired the films Compulsion and Rope.  Baatz's recounting of the murder is chilling, and his explanation of the legal strategy behind the defense and the prosecution is fascinating.  Conventional wisdom has it that Clarence Darrow's brilliant summation is what saved the boys from the gallows, but Baatz notes that the judge in the case specifically disregarded Darrow's arguments and imposed a life sentence on other grounds.  Actually, Baatz seems to be faintly contemptuous of Darrow's defense.  I would have liked to hear a bit more of Darrow's own words so I could decide for myself.

What if Under the Tuscan Sun had been written by Kafka? You would have The Monster of Florence, the true story of a decades-long investigation into a rash of Ripper-like murders in the vicinity of Florence. The appeal is not so much the usual true-crime recipe of forensics, psychological suspense and morbid fascination. It's more of a travelogue from hell - a portrayal of Italy and the Italians that you won't find in Fodor's. The portrayal of the Italian "justice" system is horrifying, albeit sometimes horrifyingly funny. With the caveat that Preston has a personal ax to grind against the system, I guess it's all true.  And after a slow start, gripping as hell.

Harrison's analysis of a boy's murder of his abusive parents and innocent younger sister got a huge write-up in the

Sunday NYT Book Review, and all I can say is Harrison must have a hell of a publicist.  The book held my attention, and I read it quickly thanks to being temporarily couch-bound with a physical ailment, but it felt about a quarter-inch deep to me.  Maybe I expected something different, because I do enjoy the occasional true-crime book with an emphasis on forensics and law.  This one is much more psychological in its focus, but it's pop psychology at best - speculative and not very interesting, in my estimation. Harrison was herself a victim of abuse, which was the subject of The Kiss.  That work got stellar reviews from trustworthy sources, but judging from this work, Harrison is in a mode of shaping her pain into some kind of psychoanalytical narrative, and I am just not interested in that.