The aptly named Robert Hunter is the LAPD homicide department’s wunderkind, a gifted overachiever whose combination of drive and incisiveness have allowed him to quickly climb the ranks of the homicide squad. But Hunter’s seemingly stellar career isn’t entirely as it seems, with its glowing achievements rather muted by some somewhat more desultory outcomes that he avoids mentioning where possible. Perhaps the darkest spot for Hunter is the Crucifix Killer, a serial killer whose grisly efforts tormented Hunter months, and still do–for though the killer was eventually detained and imprisoned, Hunter can’t shake the feeling that there is perhaps something more to the case. So when Hunter is called in to investigate a horrific incident involving the disfigured body of a young women, he is not entirely surprised to find that the body bears the mark of the sadistic Crucifix Killer. This time, however, the killer has made it clear that the body count is set to rise.
In the interests of full disclosure, I should admit that I’m not an especially avid crime reader. Mysteries, yes, crime no. And the reason for this is similar to that given by Literary Review reviewer Jessica Man: the increasingly gratuitous and sadistic violence against women (and often children) that typifies these books is something that riles the rather vocal feminist within me. Unfortunately, given my stance on this matter, I was destined to struggle with the Crucifix Killer from the beginning (although the blatant misogyny in this book is only one of the myriad problems that lurk between its covers). Not only are we subject to a number of scenes in which women are tortured and tormented, but women more generally throughout the book are treated as little more than playthings, with the entire female side of the cast leaning heavily towards the “women of the night” variety, or as lost and without valid identities of their own.
However, it’s not simply the women who are treated so shabbily in this novel: Carter’s approach to racial minorities is itself somewhat questionable. Admittedly, I’m not an American, and my understanding of the race and class in America is obviously cursory and without nuance, but I can’t help but feel that Carter’s take on minority characters is at times inappropriate.