Jeff Lindsay

Aparte de lo delicioso que es leer a Jeff Lindsay, un escritor que te mantiene interesado, que desliza el sarcasmo entre líneas mientras te pone en la mente de un asesino serial, esta tercera entrega de la saga de Dexter, se resume en una frase: "Entre mas anormal seas, mas normal debes verte" un nuevo estudio sicológico de la mente, la oscuridad, los efectos del maltrato infantil y la imaginación del ser humano para cometer crímenes( ó al menos, poder imaginarlos y ser capaz de show more ponerlos por escrito) es lo que nos muestra este libro. altamente recomendado. No se van a arrepentir, o talvez si, pero de no haberlo leído antes. show less

Surprisingly brilliant little murder mystery. The highlight is the voice of the narrator, Dexter, who has a wonderful disdain for humans and calmly wonders how these beings work, whilst doing his best at imitating their actions. I was drawn to the premise - a serial killer working for the police, and whose raison d'etre has been channeled so that he only offs the bad guys. Dexter is the most fun when he is contemplating whether or not he has in fact committed the murders that he is show more investigating - his voice is so jocular in his admiration of his own unknown self. Good times. "Boo." show less

Dexter has been jailed for murder and child molestation by a police department seemingly bent on breaking every law of due process. We are led to believe that officers appear on scene where his wife and a famous actor lie dead and they just toss him into solitary confinement. No one even questions him? They are just like, "Welp, you're the only adult at the scene, so you are guilty. Hell, let's even skip the trial." Dexter goes from having countless friends in the department to even having show more his sister turn against him.

As always, Debra is crazy unpredictable. She's known for the whole series that Dexter murders people for fun, but the thought of him having an extramarital affair is all it took for her to decide he is trash. Uh? Is that even a double standard? It's more like the behavior of a woman with severe head trauma. She decides he probably killed everyone and molested his daughter too. Deserted by everyone, it's eventually Dexter's brother who gets him a lawyer and gets him out of jail. Debra demands that Dexter sign away his parental rights so that she can take care of the kids. Dexter agrees with a shrug.

I also can't figure out Dexter's motivation with the children. For the first half of the series he likes them a lot more than Rita. They have emotional damage too and he toys with the idea of teaching them to be serial killers. When he has his own daughter he is frankly over the moon for her. But in the last book he decided that he can't be bothered. I mean, okay, but that's a pretty abrupt change without any character development. It's almost like it was a decision made by a bad and lazy writer.

Now Dexter is in trouble with a Mexican drug cartel. I guess his brother stole a bunch of money from them and now they are out to get him and anyone he's connected to. Dexter gets a bomb put in his car and it eventually turns out that his world famous lawyer is actually... owned by the drug cartel? Sheesh, what are the odds? Don't worry, the lazy writing continues when ... wait for it ... Dexter's kids are kidnapped. What's that, three books in a row? How does every character still manage to act shocked when this hackneyed, overused plot device surfaces? Does the author think we have Debra's head trauma too?

Anyhow, moments after the kids are taken Debra changes her mind about Dexter being garbage. Now she wants his help? And now, suddenly, Dexter cares about his kids again? He's ready to take on an unknown number of gangsters hold up on a massive yacht. Sure. Three people can totally do that. Somehow(?!?) they manage to sneak up on the yacht in Dexter's boat and creep aboard. They get the kids off but then the ship explodes and Brian dies. Then Dexter is shot by the drug lord before Debra shoots him. Dexter stays behind on the boat to set another bomb. But he succumbs to his wounds. The end.

Holy shit did this book drag! Since no one is talking to Dexter, just about the entirety of the book is Dexter's insanely repetitive internal monologue. The author doesn't stint in his devotion to saying the same thought ten different ways before moving on. There are pages of descriptions about the food Dexter decides to eat. It'll begin with him realizing he's hungry and meditating upon his love of food for a paragraph. Then he'll run through the wealth and variety of food options in Miami. Then he'll narrow down his potential choices. Then he'll painstakingly choose one and go over the best things about eating there. Then endless effusive paragraphs about the food itself.

Don't worry, the author of course returns to his favorite topic of Miami traffic! I mean, what's more thrilling after all than a detailed passage about sitting in traffic for hours?! He even mentions the different types of cars, and the sorts of things you can tell about people by the cars they drive. Oh man, I was on the edge of my seat!

I remember being somewhat hopeful at the end of the last book. First of all, Rita was dead, which I thought would mean less of her bizarre style of dialogue. But no, the author apparently cannot go without intentionally irritating his readers. So, even though she is dead, countless characters inexplicably begin talking just like her, beginning with Dexter and moving on to Vince, Brian, his lawyer, and a number of random passersby. I also thought, at least now that so much dramatic stuff has transpired, the author will have to write a different sort of book. With his wife dead and constant police scrutiny, it will at bare minimum be unlike all previous books. Oh how wrong I was. There was nothing new or fresh in this final book. It almost seemed like it had been constructed, ala Frankenstein, from various pieces of previous novels. Every sentence was tired and disappointing.

Still, I read them all, and now I can stop. Damn you, Jeff Lindsay. You are trash. show less

Dear Dexter – such a deadly delicious delight; dutiful, dedicated Dexter – seemingly a busy bureaucrat in the blood splatter department of the Miami police forensic section – is actually a merciless monster, a psych-slayer of serial psychopaths.

Death-dealing Dexter’s homicidal habits are challenged by a canny killer who appears to read his mind, to know him as well as he knows himself, and to fit him into the frame for a frenzy of frequent and sadistic slaughter.

Dexter’s nearest show more and dearest – stepsister Deb and the luscious La Guerta, a homicide head honcho with the hots for our homicidal hombre – have complete faith in him: Dexter is entirely unsuspected except by the dusky and deathly sergeant Doakes, who is disturbed by his collegial killer.

Initially intrigued then seduced by the technique and imagination shown by his opponent, Dexter starts to wonder if he is losing his mind as all the clues point to his being the culprit. Will Dex go over to the dark side? Will nature or nurture win? Wonderfully witty, well-written and fantastic fun, the book is miles better than the TV series – which was pretty good stuff in itself. show less