Dexter Is Dead by Jeff Lindsay
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Dexter is cursed. There just doesn't seem to be a way to close out his stories in a way that truly satisfies. First it was the tv series, and now it's the books.

Now, of course, if i were just going to be comparing apples to apples, by comparing the end of the tv series to the end of the books, I can unequivocally recommend the book without qualm.

We still have the dolorous dementia of a drowning Dexter, all friendless, family-less, and fraught with firearmed foes and one steadfast psychopath of a brother to watch his back. Such things are pretty damn good, minus the somewhat slow start, and the main body of action kept me glued to my seat. It's the end, on the other hand, that's cursed.

The end of the previous novel pretty much hamstrung Dexter, anyway, so it's not hard to see that this final novel is a swan song. But there's the rub: We're still meant to see him as our dark hero when there's nothing left for him to be heroic about, except for maybe the third or fourth recycled plot of having to save his children. Even here, we barely got to see any of them on stage before Dexter is going all heroic against deep odds and

(Here's the spoiler alert)

He sacrificed his life for them.

Is it as bad as all that? No. Not really. It's pretty standard stuff, actually, and I really wanted a much grander send off for down-in-the-dumps Dexter. You know, something to really showcase and give a sound-off to all his favorite fans out there, like me.

Is this a sour grapes moment? Possibly. But I really think he deserved better.

Overall, the novel was quite good, notwithstanding the beginning and the end. It jumped back to life. Too bad it had to die so ... sad.



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