Saturday, August 8, 2009


Over the course of the past six months or so, a friend of mine has rambled on incessantly about a show called "Dexter." He went on and on about how brilliant the storyline is, how awesome the characters are, et cetera et cetera et cetera. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me, so I ordered season 1 on Netflix. Imagine my surprise when I found myself completely engrossed in the show! It's fantastic.

Dexter Morgan, blood splatter analyst for the Miami Metro PD, who just so happens to be a serial killer. Its fabulous. How creative! Who thinks up this stuff? About halfway through the season, for some reason I was paying attention to the credits and saw that the series is based on a novel called "Darkly Dreaming Dexter." Of course, I had to run out to the library to find the book. I was happy to learn that there is not one, but four novels about this Dexter character.

Gary and I finished season 2 last night, and I just can't get enough. I'm infatuated. I want to know more about Dexter. I want a better glimpse into who he is. The fact that this character is a serial killer disturbs me a bit. I've always been interested in forensics, murder mysteries, crime stories. I considered going into forensic psychology in college, but chickened out. I don't know that I could deal with dead bodies in real life. In books and on television, however, I am fascinated with it. I can't get enough of this stuff. Is there something wrong with me???

My only comfort is knowing that obviously I'm not the only person in the world who enjoys this stuff, otherwise there wouldn't be a millions shows, movies and books about it. Still, sometimes I wonder.....