This is a hardcore novel. Extremely brutal. There are enough torture scenes in this novel to give you at least one thing to cringe about. If you're like me, you'll find several. The new uses for power tools was one. The red pepper was another. If you get squeamish easily, pass on this book.

Kathleen Shade is a regular columnist for a feminist magazine when she starts getting stories from a serial killer. Not so much stories as descriptions of the torture inflicted on her victims. There are also glimpses into her childhood which is more depressing than the pain experienced by the men she kills. Detective Spence is the police officer assigned to investigate the killing spree but he can't quite find the connection between killer and columnist and is left a step behind as the victims pile up.

While a good read, Lee has done better. The torture is over the top at times and we don't usually find out too much about the victims. This leaves us not feeling much for them one way or another when they are killed. And there are even victims that we cheer the killer on with their torture. Without feeling for the victims, the book becomes more about the killer and those with who she chooses to communicate. We get a good view of these characters but for me, the feelings as to what might happen to them wasn't there. The novel is still kick ass and not one I would pass up but Lee has done better. ( )

On the surface, this book seemed like it was gonna be great. The presence of Ed Lee was part of it but the descriptions also made it seem like it was a winner. A journalist is contacted by a serial killing female in order to tell the killer’s story. The journalist enters a new relationship that challenges her emotionally and before long, the woman, her new lover and the killer are on a collision course, and the journalist and the killer find a horrifying link between themselves. Add a mean cop, lots of violence, and pow, you got yourself a decent enough serial killer book. And to be frank, the killer herself was at times an interesting character, and the violence she wreaks might be, for some extreme horror fans, worth the price of admission.

So… Why does this book stink a’plenty? The reasons are myriad and glaring. First, you will never read a more cliched book outside of a romance novel or a western, or maybe a romance set in the Old West, preferably written by my mom. You’ve got your neurotic heroine who is hot and sexy but at weight lighter than Marilyn Fucking Monroe feels she is obese and ugly. Also she’s wacky and likes to run around naked all the time, as body-loathing headcases are wont to do, amirite? We have a murderous whackjob who is a caricature of every abused female killer, with an endless mental dialogue with her abusive daddy. And despite the fact that she’s a mentally deranged killer, she still somehow manages to dress up, lure, stalk and kill her victims and hold a day job with almost nary a hiccup.

But there’s more, oh so much more. We have the cliche of the hard ass cop bullying his unhappy witness. We have a man who is evidently a poet who is acclaimed enough to have made it into The New Yorker who is capable of writing poetry that would make a teenage goth misery case ashamed at the turgid purpleness of it all. Also, he falls in love with the heroine after a night of sex, because that’s what poets do – they fall in love with weird women involved in murder cases. And in a novel about tracking a serial killer, despite the fact that Elizabeth Steffen is a federal crime analyst, we have characters who use the words psychopath and psychotic interchangeably, descriptions of mental states that read like gibberish and a character who appears to be largely psychotic who is yet still able to write out scholarly analyses of her torture techniques. Read my entire review here: http://ireadoddbooks.com/portrait-of-the-psychopath-as-a-young-woman-by-edward-l... ( )

Pretty fucked up. ( )