Review from a Transgressive Fiction Fan

I had not before this read any work by Jim Thompson, though I knew his reputation as a dark and grisly noir novelist from the mid- twentieth century. I had seen The Grifters (which I loved), but never read the book on which it was based (but now will!). I had recently read a comics adaptation of The Killer Inside, and liked it, so committed to reading the original, which I really did basically love.

Well, “love” is perhaps a simplistic stretch of an assessment for my experience of a serial killer’s first person account. It reminds me a little bit of Lolita, or Satan, in Milton’s Paradise Lost; in all three of these works you have elegantly written depictions of articulate monsters who convince many others (including many readers!) they are charming and admirable.

“Insightful” Review from a Mainstream Reader

The Killer Inside Me by Jim Thompson was supposed to be this fantastic crime novel. It is not. I found the characters incredibly dull and ‘one dimensional’. I struggled to even finish it. The story was really a “killer inside” me and I could not wait to get it out. This is a sad excuse for a book.

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