Review by Booklist Review
In 1998, journalist Rowe was working in Poughkeepsie, New York, where she reported on the odd but generally mild crime scene. Mild, that is, until the day that local resident Kendall Francois confessed to murdering eight women, who were then currently decomposing in his family's attic. A shy, overly polite young man, Kendall fascinated Rowe, and she began a four-year correspondence with him. Ostensibly working as a reporter, she became fixated by their game of giving and receiving personal information. Her obsession was fueled by her own dark past, her resemblance to his victims, and her feelings of connection with Kendall. This is true-crime writing where the story bleeds from journalism into memoir, as the writer becomes a main character. Aiming for the heights of Truman Capote's classic In Cold Blood (1966) or Sebastian Junger's A Death in Belmont (2006), Rowe's book never quite makes it there. Her identification with both Kendall and the victims feels forced. Her obsession, however, does not. Readers seeking a literary look at the psychology of a criminal will find much to hold them rapt.--Sexton, Kathy Copyright 2017 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
With reporter-like descriptions of small town life and strong storytelling skills, Rowe, a Seattles Times staff writer, unflinchingly depicts her decades-long obsession with Kendall Francois, a convicted serial killer, whom she first encountered in the 1990s while working as a reporter for a local paper in upstate New York. What begins as an investigation into how a person can commit cold-blooded murder became Rowe's albatross, ultimately leading her to examine her own life. Although she admits her personal stakes from the outset, the focus on her own story in the context of Francois's situation leads her to draw to comparisons that don't always measure up: for example, she attempts to relate her childhood experiences growing up in an white, upper-middle-class family in New York City to Francois's experience as the child of an extreme hoarder, in one of the few black families in a predominantly white part of Dutchess County. Though she skewers Kendall for trivialities such as liking "white pop" and speaking with an affected tone, she rarely turns that harsh lens on herself. It is only toward the end of the book, when Rowe admits her bias, that her story begins to strike a chord. (Jan.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
There are a multitude of ways to have an unhappy childhood. Journalist Rowe (staff writer, Seattle Times) explores two of them in this book: her own, and that of serial killer Kendall Francois. Uncertain about her career and future and caught in a crumbling and emotionally abusive relationship, Rowe became fascinated with a series of local murders in Poughkeepsie, NY. Her notions of being the one to understand the killer were quickly dispelled-she is neither spider nor fly. Unlike both Francois and his victims, the author's unhappiness as a child and young adult was buffered by affluence. While Rowe works to acknowledge that privilege, readers may find the stark contrast between her childhood and Francois's merits more attention. A shared interest in the worst of humanity is not enough to forge a bond, and Francois generally keeps Rowe at arm's length, while his impact on her life is much greater. VERDICT Readers who wonder what draws writers to grisly crimes will find insight here. The interwoven stories of author and subject will appeal to both true crime and memoir readers.-Kate Sheehan, C.H. Booth Lib., Newtown, CT © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
What happens when a reporter has the willpower and tenacity to try to overcome a serial killer's refusal to communicate?Seattle Times staff writer Rowe chronicles her dogged search to learn about convicted serial killer Kendall Francois, who killed eight female prostitutes in Poughkeepsie, New York, and stashed their bodies in the home he shared with his parents and sister. Francois, it seems, communicated with Rowe, via letters and a few face-to-face meetings, simply in an attempt to draw her into a relationship of some sort. For a while, it worked. Rowe sought a greater understanding of what separates a killer from the rest of us and, specifically, from herself. Francois' refusal to discuss the murders he committed means the book is light on the meat of the crimes it covers, but it becomes obvious as the story progresses that at some point Rowe became as interested in investigating her own passage into adulthood as her subject's interior life. Her childhood and difficult relationship with her mother and boyfriend become increasingly important narrative fodder, while her communications with Francois fade into the background. It is unclear whether Rowe sees herself as the spider or the fly in this strange, tense relationship, but the hunt was ineffectual in either case. The author never got her exclusive story, and Francois never achieved the deep, meaningful relationship he tried to force. Rowe's engaging prose means the pages practically turn themselves, regardless of the disappointing end to the exchange. However, some readers may be frustrated with how to view the book: as a twisted coming-of-age memoir or the chronicle of a determined hunt for a killer's motive.Uneven but capably written. Rowe leaves readers wishing for a more satisfying solution to one puzzle while feeling relief in the resolution of the other. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
