Darkly Dreaming Dexter

Last month I finally got the book Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay from the library to read. I stumbled across the series earlier this year when CBS was showing it Sunday nights, and was instantly fascinated. I'd heard Ellen talk about the show on her talk show, but I didn't get its appeal until I saw it for myself.

I came into the show a few episodes in to the first season, which more or less parallels the book. It is creepy to have a serial killer as the hero of the show, and to have him be a character much more likable than those that populate most sitcoms today. That likability comes from the fact that he is honest about his weaknesses.

It's not very surprising that a strongly emotional person such as myself should be intrigued by a character who has no emotions and must guess at the right emotional note to hit when dealing with people. To some degree, this is also a universal struggle: what is the right role for us to play at this moment with these people. The foreignness of his unemotionally and amorality is mitigated by the fact that we all wear a public mask that shows what we want others to see and hides what we don't want them to see. That his struggle to blend in is one we all face, one way or another. Here's one example:

Many times in my life I have felt like I was missing something, some essential piece of the puzzle that everybody else carried around with them without thinking about it. I don't usually mind, since most of those times it turns out to be an astonishingly stupid piece of humania like understanding the infield fly rule or not going all the way on the first date.

Dexter is also made okay to like by a couple key facts:

1. He seems to have been made the way he is by external forces, a traumatic event he experienced while still an innocent child. The sights and sensations of that time attached themselves to him in such a way as to motivate his adult desires. It
   is a chilling statement on the fragility of our species, if there is any non-fictional truth to it.


2. His desire to kill has been channeled by his (adoptive) father into a moral code that he innately lacks. Dexter does not allow himself to kill randomly. He kills other killers, making it harder to find fault with his hobby than it otherwise would be.


3. He has a sense of humor. He has no ego to protect, and so his honesty treats his strengths and weaknesses alike; he can laugh at himself, at life. Do serial killers really have a sense of humor? Or of whimsy, as the other serial killer in the story does? Charm often seems to be part of the package, although perhaps that is just a careful study of how to attract people to you.

I am looking forward to seeing where Dexter goes, both in books and on television. I welcome the insight about what one needs to do to appear to be a regular human; some of the best food for thought available (at least in fiction television) today.