The Silence of the Lambs

This is my first time rereading Silence since it was originally published back in 1989. I snagged a copy from the library and never got around buying a copy of my own. It became so ubiquitous and was so influential that I somehow never got around to it, even though I know I recommended it to lots of people at the time. Then the film came out and the whole thing went stratospheric. I didn't even see the film when it was on general release: I watched it on ferry back from France. Anyway. I was annoyed at Silence because of the way it turned the police procedural into almost fetishistic forensic investigation for sexycool serial killers Me, I preferred the approach in Peter Straub's Koko, released around the same time, also about a hunt show more for a serial killer but with nary an autopsy or fibre analysis. Though Koko was successful in its own terms, it was Silence that set its stamp on popular culture, and I was unreasonably annoyed about that.

Weird then to discover how little forensics there is in the book itself. There's one post-mortem examination, the antithesis of every pop-video fast-cut CSI montage. It deals with the body and those who examine it with humanity and respect, and the psychological profiling is fairly basic and dismissed with contempt by good old Doctor Lecter. Even his own insights turn out retrospectively to have been the result of direct knowledge of the killer rather than second-hand analysis.

What we have then, is an amazing game of cat-and-mouse between Starling and Lector. The film has inescapably stamped its imprint all over the book, but that's okay. The book and the film complement each other quite well. So Starling is Foster and Lector is Hopkins and, not insignificantly, Scott Glenn is Jack Crawford. Certainly you couldn't ask for a better cast to voice the characters in your head, and the book has a greater depth that the film can't match.

The book is also incredibly well written, rare enough in massively popular bestsellers. It's a rare author who can handle switching POVs and moving in and out of the present tense so smoothly, giving voice to the anger and pain of the victims and the agents and the crazy evil of the killer with equal assurance. Lector's escape at the book's mid-point is one of the most riveting sequences in all of suspense fiction, and the narrative dexterity when he wrong-foots the reader a few chapters later is subtle and sophisticated. Jeffrey Deaver appears to have made a career out of replicating endless variations of that sequence and that trick, so you can appreciate Harris' restraint all the more.

I suppose it's understandable that Harris turned the sequel, Hannibal into a sort of gorgeous, camp gothic romance rather than try to replicate Silence. Whatever you might think of that, this itself remains a masterpiece of the thriller genre, and though you might expect endless imitators to have diluted its effectiveness, the fact is none of them really got to the heart of what makes it work. Read it, watch the film and enjoy it all over again. show less

I used to live with someone who worked at St Martin's when this book was published. He brought it home, said "this'll scare you," and then wandered off to be with his boyfriend. He left me alone with this book.

I have never quite forgiven him.

It scared the bejabbers out of me, had me curled up in the bathtub with the shower curtain closed (I have no idea, srsly), and caused me the most intense fear a book has elicited from me since [The Exorcist] in 1973. It was pants-poopingly unnerving.

But it didn't make a single whit of sense.

Ive never read this book before (I just noticed its #2 in the series? oops) or seen any of the movies, my only exposure to Hannibal Lector are the 2 episodes of Hannibal I watched before I got too grossed out by the meat, but with how often this story comes up in popular culture Im surprised by the fact Ive never seen discussion on how SHOCKINGLY TRANSPHOBIC the source material is... The book tries to get around this by saying the person depicted isnt a "real" trans person but when you have your character acting in all the ways a trans person might and you also make the person a disgusting serial killer thats transphobic. Im not going to get into the discussion on how theres no right way to be trans because I would end up defending a show more fictional character who wears human skin as clothing. I found the book kinda homophobic for similar reasons. The queer characters seem to all be dead, or evil and dead, and even if the intention wasn't malignant the result is the same. Its gross.

Also a lot of negative body talk and fat phobia? Im not really sure what to call it. The characters and narrator are fairly neutral towards the fact that these women (the serial killer victims) are fat but the way they are talked about and the way their weight just keeps getting brought up felt weird. Im gonna chalk it up to a male author and the time when the story was written. Maybe sizing in the 80's was different but I dont think a size 14 woman would actually be as big as the story seems to think she is.

I wont give this book a one star rating because following my own system I would not physically fight this book. I had a lot of problems with it but the actual serial killer hunt part was interesting and I appreciated the fact that Clarice saw the victims as people and emphasized with them. It had moments of genuine suspense and subtle touches that I enjoyed. I also do appreciate its role in popular culture and media and I feel Ive expanded my mental reference library by reading it. I just wish it could have done it without the transphobia. show less

An excellent addition the the Hannibal Lecter series! For fans of the movie, it is VERY similar with a few, minor casting changes. Admittedly, we get only a little more on Hannibal, himself, but it somehow doesn't seem as big of a deal in this one as it was in Red Dragon.

I do have one pet peeve, however, and that is the relationships Clarice has with Lecter and Crawford. While the movie made no allusions of any sort of sexual tension between Clarice and Crawford, it was very evident through out the book, and, admittedly, felt forced. Most importantly, it didn't feel true to character for Crawford, especially with how he was clearly still deeply in love with his dying wife. Clarice also seems to be so in awe of Crawford for a vast show more majority of the plot. A father-daughter relationship seems far more appropriate and, dare I say IN CHARACTER for both of them, especially considering Starling's background. There were times when it seemed like the author would revert back to this sort of relationship, but it was short lived.

As for Clarice's relationship with Lecter, while I understand that "playing" with someone, as a cat would a mouse, is far easier to show on screen than it is to write, there didn't seem to be much attempt to write it into the pages of this novel. Yes, it is easier to see that someone is toying with a person by the tilt of their head during conversation, a glint in their eye, a dramatic pause, but it didn't feel as though there was a real attempt made to convey this image on paper other than the tit-for-tat line of questioning during each visit. Finally, and this bothered me about the movie as well, the end of the story had the tabloids making the relationship between Clarice and Lecter out to be some sort of morbid, physical attraction and there was really nothing in the story-line to imply this. It just bothered me. I'm sure it was supposed to be intentional, showing how news outlets like these tend to blow things out of proportion and twist the truth, but, again, it seemed unfounded.

One thing that I though was a great little bit that I don't remember getting in the movie was what happened with Lecter after his escape, during his transfer to the "country club" jail . It was really interesting to hear a little more from his side of things and get a slight idea of his inner workings, if only a glimpse.

Overall, I'd definitely recommend this to anyone, even if they've never seen the movie, or read any of the other Lecter novels. show less

Coincidentally, I've been reading a lot of books involving psychopaths/sociopaths recently. This odd thematic streak was purely unintentional, but it's quite interesting to see how different authors treat their twisted villains.

Thomas Harris does a fantastic job of capturing atmospheres. The awful sterility, harsh brightness, and cold insanity of an asylum. The labyrinthine, sprawling, dank basement of a serial killer's dwelling. The small, run-down, mismatched break room of a rural coroner's lab. The horrifyingly awesome thing about the way he describes and paints these places is that they seem so real that even though I've never been in any of those three settings (and hope to keep it that way) I can feel as though I'm the one show more hurrying down a long, blindingly white asylum corridor with obscenities being thrown at me, hands clutching and reaching through the bars.

The second thing I loved... Well, I think you already know exactly what I'm going to say. The smart, sophisticated, six-fingered, clever, olfactorily gifted doctor of psychology and human filets, the incomparable Hannibal Lecter. It was a smart decision on the author's part to involve Lecter as much as he did- not too often, but still enough to be characterised and delved into. He is characterised so well, in fact, that I found myself cheering for him despite the fact that I knew exactly all of the heinous acts he committed. The genius of Lecter's character is that he's a pure sociopath without being a stock character- he's most certainly screwed loose in the mental department, yet still remains stylish and even aristocratic in his cell wearing Dignity Pants, a straightjacket, and a mouthpiece. In many parts, it seemed like Hannibal was more sane than his own warden.

While Lecter certainly isn't the antagonist- that would be the less tasteful but equally psychotic Jame "Buffalo Bill" Gumb- he isn't a sidekick or mentor or anything of that sort. The closest I could come to describing his role in the story is a deuteragonist- he gets his own scenes apart from the protagonist, but not enough to warrant a large plot line. He gets a plot line, though, complete with an ingeniously gory prison escape and a fabulous and satisfying ending.

I also appreciated Jack Crawford's character, and could empathise with his struggles and backstory. While he wasn't as interesting as Lecter or Buffalo Bill or even Chilton, I thought he was pretty well realised and developed.

And now I come to the one brown spot (if you don't count the strange macho-man dialogue) on this otherwise shining apple: Clarice Starling. I hate to say it, but I honestly had no idea what Lecter saw in her. Our protagonist had all the makings of a well-developed heroine- tragic backstory, overcame obstacles, strength and tenacity- but she just fell flat. Partly because she's not unique from any other generic "woman-trying-to-make-it-in-a-man's-world" main character. Partly because I spent half the time wondering how she could be so dumb. To truly grasp the level of Starling's incompetence, consider the heavy-handed remarks from Dr. Lecter on why he thinks Buffalo Bill is skinning his victims: "'He wants a vest with tits on it'" and "'He's making a girl suit out of real girls'". Now, one would think that it's pretty damn obvious after these statements why Buffalo Bill is harvesting skin. Well, not to Clarice Starling, it isn't. She doesn't figure it out until well past two hundred pages in. Total dolt.

In essence, The Silence of the Lambs had a solid, interesting plot, good suspense, and great setting development. If it weren't for Ms. Starling's idiocy and the completely obscure references, it would be damn near perfect.

NOTE: I'm going to watch the movie in a week or so, I can't wait to see if they fixed any of the book's flaws. It seems so, because, even though I haven't seen it yet, at least four different people came up to me when I was reading this book and asked, "So, is it as good as the movie?" show less

I read this mainly because I miss the TV show 'Hannibal', the third series of which I await with impatience, but also because it is a classic of horror fiction. Now I know why - the narrative is incredibly tense and compelling. The writing has a measured, flat quality that belies the terrifying events unfolding. What really lifts this book above [b:Red Dragon|28877|Red Dragon (Hannibal Lecter, #1)|Thomas Harris|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1390284698s/28877.jpg|925503], in my view, is Clarice Starling as the main point of view character. She is a fascinating, complex creation. Although I knew from general exposure to popular culture that she would survive the book, I was still very worried for her at certain points. Especially show more given Hannibal Lecter’s fondness for maiming people. Frankly, I defy anyone to interrupt their reading of the last two hundred pages of this book for anything other than an emergency. Although the style of TV’s 'Hannibal' is inevitably somewhat different to the original novels, both have the same intense effect on the nerves. show less

It's been a little under twenty years since I first read Silence of the Lambs, back when I was an awkward teenager in rural Australia. Coming back to it as an adult, I can better appreciate how well the narrative knits together and the depth of the characterisation (particularly when compared to the vast amount of thrillers). In particular, Clarice Starling remains one of the best examples of a nuanced, well-written 'strong' female character: someone capable of mistakes, flawed in many respects, but on the whole capable and believably talented. Harris also does an excellent job of depicting the ways in which social class impacts who you are as a person, even when you've 'left behind' that upbringing, and the ways in which personal show more experience informs our understanding of the world.

Some aspects of the book have aged poorly in terms of what might be seen as acceptable today. In particular, the way various law enforcement officials throw around 'fag' and 'queer' to refer to people, as well as the use of 'transsexual' (in place of the more commonly used 'transgender'). At the same time, Harris goes to great pains to make it 100% clear to readers that the villain of the story is a deeply homophobic misogynist who is not actually trans, but a cis man with some serious mother issues (the villain is, in fact, based somewhat on real life serial killer Ed Gein). However, given the climate of mistrust towards trans women, much of which is based on notions of predatory 'men in dresses', whether Harris succeeds in differentiating the villain enough is very much a matter of YMMV. Like a lot of media, the characterisation was probably relatively progressive for its time, but far less so now. show less