I don’t care for true crime. But I am intrigued by its ubiquitous popularity. So sure, why not have a professional cartoonist, stand-up comic, and an all-around funny person explain the appeal to me.
I should mention, I’m also not a memoir person. Nor do I think young people should be writing them. But all my preferences only serve to highlight the fact that I really enjoyed this true crime flavored memoir. Surprisingly so. Mostly because it’s funny, sure, infuse any story with enough humor and it’ll go the distance, but also because it was an objectively well-done book. And yes, it was loaded with murder. The author’s obsession might be partially genetic, though she goes a long way to make it her own. Easy enough to do in a culture that shares her obsession, that can’t get enough of true crime – books, podcasts, movies, Netflix’s trashy docudramas, HBO’s too-serious docudramas, etc. etc. As the world around us is rapidly spinning out of control and violence rates and real-life crimes and murders are shooting up through the roof, people apparently still want to tune in to see what motivated this or that criminal to do this or that crime. In great exhaustive detail. It is interesting to an extent, the psychology of it all, it’s possible to see the appeal without sharing the attraction. Makes this book a more enjoyable read, not like an author is chronicling her obsession with something genuinely inexplicable and unappealing, like, say, eating seafood. True crime aficionados will relate, all others might be delighted since the book alternates between personal and murderous narratives, alternating between family dynamics and true crime accounts. The cartoons are fun, very much in style of The New Yorker; the writing’s fun. All in all, a charming read. One that goes by surprisingly quickly for its bulk. Recommended.
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