Darkly Dreaming Or Delusional - Dexter Is Our Monster

Far be it for me to side with the serial-killing criminal element of any stripe. The Devil only knows the extent of such horrors that occur throughout the world. Here in the crumbling Bay State, “home of the bean and the cod”, we host our own ogreish example-at-large. James “Whitey” Bulger, to be exact. No doubt resting comfortably (some speculate the south of France) at # 4 on Your Hit Parade (the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List) and wanted on eighteen counts of murder (at latest count), he’s the subject of constant “Whitey”sightings, best-selling books and a perverse degree of media hero-worship. Darkly Dreaming Dexter may have twice as many victims to his credit, but he’s a fictional character who only targets those more monstrous than he. Dreamed-Up Dexter; winner by default.

What should be strictly a genre concept is taken mainstream by the talents of author Jeff Lindsay. Taking a Monster and making him do monstrous things is a one-way ticket to cult-status obscurity. Take that same Monster and make him handsome, add an active and productive sense of humor, some childhood trauma (allowing for sympathetic “root cause”) and gently suggest he play for our team and you have a winner of major proportion. Think of it as a form of present-day major-party politics. Heck... they may even give him his own TV Show.

I’ve never been a fan of violence in my entertainment, for the same reason I do not find artistic merit in other folk’s fictional (or actual) medical misfortune. I have on occasion abandoned a book cold-turkey due to a stretch of overly violent content. While a bit more brutal than its sequel, Darkly Dreaming Dexter handles this controlled mayhem with a slightly more sanitized style and class; topped with frequent and irreverent humor. As in any serial-murder mystery, there is a degree of violence that some may find unacceptable. I am one of those people and I made it through unscathed with neither the desire to gleefully de-construct my cat or move to Miami for a Cuban sandwich.

The first book of any series has the additional burden of being an establishment piece frequently filled with pages of plodding description; though fortunately in this case it doesn’t behave like one. Instead, clean, tense and quick would best describe the introductory adventures of Dexter Morgan. We get to know him intimately; uncomfortably - quite shockingly as he allows his “Dark Passenger” free-rein on an unspeakable Monster posing as pillar of the community (a most satisfying combination for all involved). This introduction is merely a sidebar to the main plot, for Dexter’s profiling skills combine with office politics in the hunt for the “Tamiami Killer” - a fiendish lout who preys upon prostitutes whose remains are displayed in a secret code. As if the killer is sending a message. To Dexter in particular. Perhaps our Dark Avenger's concerted effort to fly just below the radar of life is about to finally crash-and-burn.

Dexter is a creature of routine and habit who leaves nothing to chance. Well-schooled by his step-father Harry to be a thorough planner who’s aware of every factor; every detail. The fate of the cautiously prepared. So anonymous you become when you dress neatly, drive a bland sedan, act like one of the guys and live a life of modest means (though this would seem involuntary on a cop’s salary). “The Code” Harry called it. If you have to kill, make sure your skills are reserved for those who deserve. And don’t forget the doughnuts.

Part of “fitting-in” involves being sociable in the workplace. His job as a Blood Spatter Pattern Analyst for the Miami Police Department offers its share of grief: “Hey Blood-Boy... where’s your squeegee?”, but as long as you’re a good sport, laugh at the jokes and remember the creme-filled doughnuts when your day to remember rolls-around, no one looks too closely - no one except Sargent Doakes, that is. He wonders about Dex. He has made it his obsession. They circle each other like dogs in the park. Like one dark Monster recognizing another.

Jeff Lindsay is a smart man. He writes Dexter as a teddy bear whose innards are a buzz saw knee-deep in contradiction. A serial-killer blood-spatter expert who hates the sight of blood. Can’t stand the stuff - so messy and inconvenient. The bumbling-stumbling social skills of this “artificial human” have him walking a constant tightrope both domestically and professionally. Dexter is handsome and dimpled with those “mocking” blue eyes. Same eyes as Harry. Same as his adopted sister; his co-worker, officer Deborah.

By his own admission, charm is the only skill he’s yet to perfect as an adjunct to his looks. As a result of this combination, his boss, the lovely and uncannily perceptive Detective La Guerta has occasion to rub his thigh at a particular crime scene, causing many new conflicted thoughts to go with those already on permanent loan from a difficult childhood. Furthermore, she’s hot for a serial-killer masquerading as a boy scout. Just how uncannily perceptive can she be, really?

Though the perilous urban Miami imagery offers plenty of action and adds a substantial thrill to the proceedings, it’s Dexter himself who’s the focus and draw of the piece. His first-person narrative has an unbridled wit that veers-off in unexpected directions that accumulate into thought-bubbles of bizarre common-sense. He’s thoroughly logical, practical, rational and homicidal - like the love-child of Mr. Spock and Squeaky Fromme without the green blood and pointy ears. Or the human half.

Like most good books, Darkly Dreaming Dexter was sold to Hollywood. Unlike most books sold to Hollywood, Video Dexter is quite good but also quite different from its source. The first twelve episodes of the Showtime series are based on this first novel; though viewing the former in no way detracted from my enjoyment of the latter.

Several things can happen during such a transfer of formats. These involve the pursuit and capture of a Monster other than Dexter: The Tamiami Killer in print becomes The Ice Truck Killer on screen. The calm, blue-eyed, dimpled and handsome Dexter in his mid-twenties becomes the intense, green-eyed late-thirties actor Michael C. Hall. And forget about the Hollywood ending. Jeff Lindsay’s is better and more satisfying in a number of ways. Sometimes, no matter how sincere your intentions, you just can’t improve upon an original idea. Sometimes the pen is mightier than the lens.

Dearly Devoted Dexter
Dexter: The First Season

Darkly Dreaming Dexter (2004)
Author: Jeff Lindsay
Doubleday / Random House
doubleday.com
ISBN: 038551123X (Hardcover)