Dexter ventures into the dark

The series is a nod to the
public’s despair over crime.

By OLINE H. COGDILL

SOUTH FLORIDA SUN-SENTINEL

“Dexter in the Dark” by Jeff Lindsay; Doubleday ($23.95)

In his third novel, “Dexter in the Dark,” Jeff Lindsay proves that risks — even those that seem insurmountable —

can pay off. After all, the idea of a serial killer as a genuine hero, a detective of sorts and a likable guy hardly seems

the stuff best-

sellers are made of.

But Lindsay hasn’t just tapped into an eccentricity with Dexter Morgan, a Miami serial killer whose only victims are other killers far worse than he could ever be. With Dexter, Lindsay has created a symbol of our time, in much the same way that the late master Patricia Highsmith’s killer Tom Ripley was indicative of the changing landscape of post-World War II. Beginning with the 1955 classic “The Talented Mr. Ripley,” Highsmith fashioned a suave, agreeable and utterly amoral character who killed for greed and status. He was an allusion for social-climbing and a solid economy.

Just as agreeable and amoral, but hardly suave, Dexter’s murderous ways have a deeper implication. Dexter channels the frustration and rage that many feel toward crime and justice. Dexter is an outsider, akin to the anti heroes of the “Dirty Harry” and “Death Wish” movies and other revenge films such as Jodie Foster’s “The Brave One.” Dexter works “in the shadow areas of perfect justice rather than perfect law.”

Dexter calls himself a monster “unspoiled by conscience,” “an artificial human ... uncluttered by emotions.” But he directs that side toward truly despicable people. Dexter would never harm a regular person and is genuinely fond of children; his favorite targets are pedophiles.

The self-centered Ripley was truly evil; the selfless Dexter, in his own way, is an innocent.

With Dexter’s existentialist musings, his fear of being “found out,” Lindsay also makes Dexter kin to Camus’ “The Stranger,” both fraught with angst and aloneness. Dexter functions, even thrives, in the world, although each day is a trial. Each of us — whether we admit it or not — worries when we’ll be “unmasked,” either in our professional or personal life, or both, as well as worrying how others perceive us.

That’s pretty heady stuff for a mystery novel that is laced with dark humor. But Lindsay pulls it all together.

The Dexter series is indeed a treatise on our times, a nod to our despair over crime and an existential look at an outcast. But it also is an entertaining, funny series that draws us in and makes us root, sometimes against our will, for a ruthless, yet appealing killer. In his own way, Dexter is trying to make the world a better place.

“Dexter in the Dark” finds Dexter introspective about his life. His disguises — Dating Dexter, Dazed Dexter, Deadly Dexter — aren’t the comfort they used to be. Not when his fiancée is making wedding plans and a bombastic caterer is on the scene.

But Dexter is most concerned when his “Dark Passenger,” the guiding voice inside him, vanishes while he is at a horrific crime scene. (No, not one of his own.) Dexter, whose day job is a Miami crime scene investigator, has used that voice to help him ferret out his victims and also to give his police detective sister insight on solving crimes.

Now Dexter doesn’t know what to do, especially when it appears that he may be facing his darkest opponent.

“Dark” moves at a brisk clip. Although the first two novels seem like novellas, the extra length gives Lindsay a chance to further explore his character. Dexter thinks he has little insight into why he became a killer, but he is, in fact, a terrific detective, both in analyzing himself and in finding those who are evil incarnate. In one of the more convincing conceits, Dexter’s relationship with his fiancée’s children is believable, even as a concerned parent. It’s a nice bit of macabre humor that he worries that the kids remembered to brush their teeth and what they will wear for school pictures while, at the same time, he is staking out a wealthy man who preys on Haitian immigrants.

But “Dark” does stumble. A recurring interior dialogue dilutes the story and the identities of the villains seem like a gimmick.

“Dark” proves that the third time is indeed a charm and that the first two novels in this series were not just a fluke.