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Strange Piece of Paradise
In the summer of 1977, Terri Jentz and her Yale roommate, Shayna Weiss, make a cross-country bike trip. They pitch a tent in the desert of central Oregon. As they are sleeping, a man in a pickup truck deliberately runs over the tent. He then attacks them with an ax. The horrific crime is reported in newspapers across the country. No one is ever arrested. Both women survive, but Shayna suffers from amnesia, while Terri is left alone with memories of the attack. Their friendship is shattered.Fifteen years later, Terri returns to the small town where she was nearly murdered, on the first of many visits she will make "to solve the crime that would solve me." And she makes an extraordinary the violence of that night is as present for the community as it is for her. Slowly, her extensive interviews with the townspeople yield a terrifying many say they know who did it, and he is living freely in their midst. Terri then sets out to discover the truth about the crime and its aftermath, and to come to terms with the wounds that broke her life into a before and an after. Ultimately she finds herself face-to-face with the alleged axman.Powerful, eloquent, and paced like the most riveting of thrillers, Strange Piece of Paradise is the electrifying account of Terri's investigation into the mystery of her near murder. A startling profile of a psychopath, a sweeping reflection on violence and the myth of American individualism, and a moving record of a brave inner journey from violence to hope, this searing, unforgettable work is certain to be one of the most talked about books of the year.
565 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 2, 2006
173 people are currently reading
4816 people want to read
About the author
Terri Jentz
3 books12 followersTerri Jentz (born 1957) is an American writer. She wrote Strange Piece of Paradise, about the attack she and a college friend from Yale University suffered in Cline Falls State Park (in Oregon) in 1977, while on a cross-country bicycle and camping trip and how she, after 15 years, returned to Oregon to investigate the attack and come to terms with the experience. The New York Times in its Sunday book review wrote, "Imagine that it had been Truman Capote himself who'd been savaged in Holcomb, Kan., and that he had survived to describe his ordeal. That is the level of command and sinew at work in the writing."
Strange Piece of Paradise was chosen by the New York Times as a Notable Book of the Year.
Jentz's partner is film director Donna Deitch.
Strange Piece of Paradise was chosen by the New York Times as a Notable Book of the Year.
Jentz's partner is film director Donna Deitch.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 348 reviews
June 2, 2011
Admittedly it wasn't what I had expected - I picked it up specifically because I was interested in the psychological trauma Terri Jentz sustained and how she dealt with it. While one is not privy to the gritty details of PTSD or the various revelations she may have had about her psychological state during her investigative process, she makes it clear that her research of the details surrounding the attack played a big part in her healing process.
At first it is very much along the lines of a true crime book, consisting of the background of Jentz and her biking companion and the details of the attack. As the book progresses and she gets further into her investigation, it becomes a much broader rumination on the impact of the crime on the surrounding community. The warmth and concern of the people who remember the attack is often tangible.
Jentz also explores the psychology of violence against women on both the micro and macro level, as her main suspect is a repeat offender: how violent relationships are sustained and the attitude of communities that continually give well-known abusers a pass, from neighbors to the law enforcement and court systems.
One of the most salient critiques about this book is that it can get repetitive. At the same time, I found that the way she constantly comes up with the same details from different people can be quite fascinating in terms of how stories change and what impacts memory. Her case was pretty much town legend. In addition, it was a useful lens through which to view people - for instance, the man she interviewed who made her attack all about him and how his failure to be the "hero" ruined his life (And yet, his memory of the attack is grossly inaccurate.). I also just never got tired reading how each new individual she interviewed wanted to bond with her over this event that impacted the community so deeply.
To some extent there are more radical strains lurking under the surface here, and every time she touched on them I just wanted to nuuudge her a bit so that she would further develop and explore these thoughts. While she makes the connection between society's entrenched misogyny and violence against women quite clear, she only touches on such things as community versus state sanctioned justice and the cult of individuality in America and its adverse impact on community.
By the end of the book the music of Twin Peaks was playing in the back of my head, foreboding shots of pine and fog looming. Jentz successfully ties the dark, moody landscape to wanton violence against women as her personal investigation increasingly turns up stories of murdered women having been dumped in the surrounding pine forests. I found myself feeling seriously disturbed and unsettled despite the warm people she met and the relationships she had formed during her quest.
At first it is very much along the lines of a true crime book, consisting of the background of Jentz and her biking companion and the details of the attack. As the book progresses and she gets further into her investigation, it becomes a much broader rumination on the impact of the crime on the surrounding community. The warmth and concern of the people who remember the attack is often tangible.
Jentz also explores the psychology of violence against women on both the micro and macro level, as her main suspect is a repeat offender: how violent relationships are sustained and the attitude of communities that continually give well-known abusers a pass, from neighbors to the law enforcement and court systems.
One of the most salient critiques about this book is that it can get repetitive. At the same time, I found that the way she constantly comes up with the same details from different people can be quite fascinating in terms of how stories change and what impacts memory. Her case was pretty much town legend. In addition, it was a useful lens through which to view people - for instance, the man she interviewed who made her attack all about him and how his failure to be the "hero" ruined his life (And yet, his memory of the attack is grossly inaccurate.). I also just never got tired reading how each new individual she interviewed wanted to bond with her over this event that impacted the community so deeply.
To some extent there are more radical strains lurking under the surface here, and every time she touched on them I just wanted to nuuudge her a bit so that she would further develop and explore these thoughts. While she makes the connection between society's entrenched misogyny and violence against women quite clear, she only touches on such things as community versus state sanctioned justice and the cult of individuality in America and its adverse impact on community.
By the end of the book the music of Twin Peaks was playing in the back of my head, foreboding shots of pine and fog looming. Jentz successfully ties the dark, moody landscape to wanton violence against women as her personal investigation increasingly turns up stories of murdered women having been dumped in the surrounding pine forests. I found myself feeling seriously disturbed and unsettled despite the warm people she met and the relationships she had formed during her quest.
June 15, 2010
Every once in awhile you read a book that changes your view of the world, opens a door to the past, or even actually changes the way you perceive your own past. For me "Strange Piece of Paradise" by Terri Jentz was all three. In the early summer of 1977 something terrible happened to Terri and a friend she was traveling with. As they camped for the night in a small park in Oregon they were run over by a crazed pickup driver who then got out and attacked them with an axe. It's the type of thing you don't expect people to survive and yet somehow both of these girls did.
Fifteen years later Jentz returns to Oregon and the scene of the crime to discover what she can of the identity of her attacker (no one was ever prosecuted). I don't want to say too much because its a wonderfully paced, haunting book and I don't want to give anything away, but her journey is a very compelling one. Jentz's amazing memory functions almost like a time capsule and her descriptions of the landscape are almost cinematic.
I came of age in Northern California in the 1970s and I vaguely remember hearing of the incident in Cline Falls, but I remember with crystal clarity other events that Jentz mentions—in my own hometown a young girl was found stumbling on the side of the road, naked, with her arms chopped off below her elbows. Just as the feminist movement was coming into its own, so many hideous things were happening to women. Its hard not to see all the violence of the time (peaking in 1980) as a kind of backlash in some ways.
Reading this book has revealed to me parts of my own past that I've never truly comprehended. I feel a great kinship with Terri Jentz. I was also the victim of a traumatic event in my mid-twenties and although mine was caused by criminal negligence and I was not targeted on purpose, I recognize all the same patterns of dealing with physical and psychic harm—the repressed feelings of anger and vulnerability, and the way they can unexpectedly rise to the surface many, many years later. I finally understand why I suddenly began to suffer from panic attacks after 9/11.
I disagree with reviews that state Jentz tale meanders and includes "unnecessary detail"—I would not change a single thing about it—I was pulled straight through the narrative, I couldn't stop reading it. Also, some reviewers feel it was't introspective—that's not the case at all, Jentz bravely bares her soul and has written a deeply personal memoir that I think many women of our generation will identify with.
Fifteen years later Jentz returns to Oregon and the scene of the crime to discover what she can of the identity of her attacker (no one was ever prosecuted). I don't want to say too much because its a wonderfully paced, haunting book and I don't want to give anything away, but her journey is a very compelling one. Jentz's amazing memory functions almost like a time capsule and her descriptions of the landscape are almost cinematic.
I came of age in Northern California in the 1970s and I vaguely remember hearing of the incident in Cline Falls, but I remember with crystal clarity other events that Jentz mentions—in my own hometown a young girl was found stumbling on the side of the road, naked, with her arms chopped off below her elbows. Just as the feminist movement was coming into its own, so many hideous things were happening to women. Its hard not to see all the violence of the time (peaking in 1980) as a kind of backlash in some ways.
Reading this book has revealed to me parts of my own past that I've never truly comprehended. I feel a great kinship with Terri Jentz. I was also the victim of a traumatic event in my mid-twenties and although mine was caused by criminal negligence and I was not targeted on purpose, I recognize all the same patterns of dealing with physical and psychic harm—the repressed feelings of anger and vulnerability, and the way they can unexpectedly rise to the surface many, many years later. I finally understand why I suddenly began to suffer from panic attacks after 9/11.
I disagree with reviews that state Jentz tale meanders and includes "unnecessary detail"—I would not change a single thing about it—I was pulled straight through the narrative, I couldn't stop reading it. Also, some reviewers feel it was't introspective—that's not the case at all, Jentz bravely bares her soul and has written a deeply personal memoir that I think many women of our generation will identify with.
February 18, 2009
Terri Jentz is a little annoying. I'm not saying she's take-an-axe-to-her annoying, but annoying she is. And, compelling though the tale surely is, Strange Piece of Paradise wouldn't have suffered from being pared down by about 200 pages. Statistically, that would mean about a dozen fewer uses of the word "meticulous" and the phrase "strange piece of paradise" (GET IT? LIKE THE TITLE!). Jeesh. I don't know who her editor was on this business, but certainly not someone I'd recommend.
I mean, yes, her journey to "solve the riddle of myself", as the eye-rollingly good subtitle terms it, is as long and winding as... I don't know, pick a Central Oregon river, or maybe just her axe scar itself - totems that are returned to again and again in the course of the narrative - but, man, could we pick up the pace a little? I'd like to think I'm not a total heartless asshole, but by about 3/4 of the way through I found myself thinking "Get on with it! You only got chopped - it's not like you died or something!" Which I'd much rather chalk up to her amatuer style than to my conspicuous lack of patience. :)
I mean, yes, her journey to "solve the riddle of myself", as the eye-rollingly good subtitle terms it, is as long and winding as... I don't know, pick a Central Oregon river, or maybe just her axe scar itself - totems that are returned to again and again in the course of the narrative - but, man, could we pick up the pace a little? I'd like to think I'm not a total heartless asshole, but by about 3/4 of the way through I found myself thinking "Get on with it! You only got chopped - it's not like you died or something!" Which I'd much rather chalk up to her amatuer style than to my conspicuous lack of patience. :)
May 28, 2008
Not 5 stars... too long, perhaps rambling. Then again, if I'd been hacked at with an axe after being run over while sleeping in my tent, I'd probably drone on about the details too. Particularly if the attacker was never found and the community seems to know "whodunit". Who I am I kidding? I'd curl up in a hole and fear soceity at large for the rest of my days.
This woman has balls. Years after a random, brutal attack, she returns to the area to investigate this crime. She cannot hope to find the attacker and bring him to justice, as the statute of limitations on attempted murder expired many years before. (I believe that to be poppycock, my friends!) Does Jentz ever get closure? You need to read about 700 pages to find out.
This woman has balls. Years after a random, brutal attack, she returns to the area to investigate this crime. She cannot hope to find the attacker and bring him to justice, as the statute of limitations on attempted murder expired many years before. (I believe that to be poppycock, my friends!) Does Jentz ever get closure? You need to read about 700 pages to find out.
July 5, 2017
Hypnotic tale. Very well told. Read it if you want to be deeply drawn into another time and place, examining many questions regarding the ax attack that the author lived to tell about. You will smell the juniper and be seared by the colors of the harsh landscape, and then hope that she writes something else for us to become immersed in. Soon.
October 23, 2011
What could be a better subject for a first-time writer but to tackle something that actually happened to her? That's what Terri Jentz did here. On April 22, 1977 she and her friend Shayna were backpackers. They were sleeping on a park located in an Oregon desert when a truck ran over their tent. Awakened from their sleep, the truck's ax-wielding driver attacked them. They both got wounds that required several stitches but the attacker spared their lives. Fifteen years later, the two girls met. Shayna has moved on already and barely remembers the incident. Terri Jentz is an struggling scriptwriter in LA and probably wanting to try writing, goes back to that place and starts investigating by interviewing the people about the incident. This book contains the record of that investigation.
I liked the story but I hate the storytelling. Jentz's thoughts come in rambling. She maybe mimicking her own thought processes because we all remember that way: rambling and random. We don't remember things in chronological order, right? However, I thought that it would have been easier for readers to have some sort of order if the book is marketed as a memoir like that of Anne Frank and not as a literary work like that of Virginia Woolf. Jentz literally jumps from that night to her reunion with Shayna, to her school days at Yale, to the current investigation at Oregon. Then there are parts that are said repeatedly like how good-looking the ax psychopath is: he who meticulously tucks in his shirt to his jeans as if there are a hundred ways to tuck in a shirt to a jeans.
Small-town people in America. This is the strongest revelation or maybe just a message that Jentz seems to have successfully imparted. The people in that small town knew who the attacker was. The question in my mind: is there some kind of dynamics in a small town that its members try to "protect" each other? I grew up in a small poor town too but I did not see anything like this. Or Americans county folks have stronger bound with each other compared to Filipinos living in a small barrio?
The people in that small Oregon town chose not to reveal the identity of the ax man because he was one of them. While reading, I thought that maybe part of the reason was that the two young girls, then 19, did not die or chose not to pursue with their complaint. However, Jentz explained in her introduction, that the incident had "split" her life into two: one before the incident and one after the incident. In other words, it was a defining moment of who she is now as a person. So, she had to go back and know the truth. And why am I imagining that she probably also wanted to write a book?
I liked the story but I hate the storytelling. Jentz's thoughts come in rambling. She maybe mimicking her own thought processes because we all remember that way: rambling and random. We don't remember things in chronological order, right? However, I thought that it would have been easier for readers to have some sort of order if the book is marketed as a memoir like that of Anne Frank and not as a literary work like that of Virginia Woolf. Jentz literally jumps from that night to her reunion with Shayna, to her school days at Yale, to the current investigation at Oregon. Then there are parts that are said repeatedly like how good-looking the ax psychopath is: he who meticulously tucks in his shirt to his jeans as if there are a hundred ways to tuck in a shirt to a jeans.
Small-town people in America. This is the strongest revelation or maybe just a message that Jentz seems to have successfully imparted. The people in that small town knew who the attacker was. The question in my mind: is there some kind of dynamics in a small town that its members try to "protect" each other? I grew up in a small poor town too but I did not see anything like this. Or Americans county folks have stronger bound with each other compared to Filipinos living in a small barrio?
The people in that small Oregon town chose not to reveal the identity of the ax man because he was one of them. While reading, I thought that maybe part of the reason was that the two young girls, then 19, did not die or chose not to pursue with their complaint. However, Jentz explained in her introduction, that the incident had "split" her life into two: one before the incident and one after the incident. In other words, it was a defining moment of who she is now as a person. So, she had to go back and know the truth. And why am I imagining that she probably also wanted to write a book?
August 6, 2009
“Start this book, and you won’t stop. Memoir, detective story, travelogue, time capsule, horror movie come to life (and swinging a hatchet), obsessive manhunt, a tale of American innocence dashed and left for dead....”
This book is gripping and disturbing, and vividly brings to life 1970s Oregon. You can’t beat the essential story—a young girl traveling rural America who experiences a life-changing event—but like all great nonfiction, the book is much more than its basic tale, and veers off into many fascinating tangents.
What still stands out for me, many months after finishing it, is the idea that while you may be certain an event affected you alone, there are countless others unknown to you living their lives across the country completely separate from you, for whom the same event continues to live inside them in numerous ways—occasionally has even helped shape who they are.
EXCERPT:
“The second question was easier to grasp: Who was the man who emerged that night in a desert park, bent on destruction? This question had but one simple answer: an individual with a name. A man with his own history—a past, a present, and, impossible to imagine, a future. Fifteen years had passed, and the crime had never been solved. Its reckoning was long overdue.
Both questions converged in a flashbulb image that struck deep into my memory: the headless torso of a fit, meticulous young cowboy suspending an axe over my heart. The image conjured for me a villain out of myth and legend.
I began an education in such mythic imagery early on, when for my fourth birthday I received a 3-D Viewmaster that came with a package of sample discs. I remember holding the Viewmaster to my eyes and clicking the button on its right side. I clicked my way through 3-D views of beautiful American landscapes and frames of iconic American imagery until I froze at one: a headless torso wearing a costume out of the Old West, a holster slung around his waist, his hand training a revolver on me, the viewer….
As I excavated my personal history over many years of returning to Oregon, questions kept arising, still more troubling questions that brought to the surface the violent and extreme in our culture. The first time around, America’s dark underside found me. Later, I went looking for it. And it wasn’t hard to find. Of all developed nations, America is especially violent. It is violent by habit. My 3-D Viewmaster warned me of this when I was just four years old.
But I also found the other extreme. John Steinbeck said it just right in The Grapes of Wrath, our archetypal tale about lost American dreams: strange things happen to people in America. Some bitterly cruel. And some so beautiful that faith is refired forever."
This book is gripping and disturbing, and vividly brings to life 1970s Oregon. You can’t beat the essential story—a young girl traveling rural America who experiences a life-changing event—but like all great nonfiction, the book is much more than its basic tale, and veers off into many fascinating tangents.
What still stands out for me, many months after finishing it, is the idea that while you may be certain an event affected you alone, there are countless others unknown to you living their lives across the country completely separate from you, for whom the same event continues to live inside them in numerous ways—occasionally has even helped shape who they are.
EXCERPT:
“The second question was easier to grasp: Who was the man who emerged that night in a desert park, bent on destruction? This question had but one simple answer: an individual with a name. A man with his own history—a past, a present, and, impossible to imagine, a future. Fifteen years had passed, and the crime had never been solved. Its reckoning was long overdue.
Both questions converged in a flashbulb image that struck deep into my memory: the headless torso of a fit, meticulous young cowboy suspending an axe over my heart. The image conjured for me a villain out of myth and legend.
I began an education in such mythic imagery early on, when for my fourth birthday I received a 3-D Viewmaster that came with a package of sample discs. I remember holding the Viewmaster to my eyes and clicking the button on its right side. I clicked my way through 3-D views of beautiful American landscapes and frames of iconic American imagery until I froze at one: a headless torso wearing a costume out of the Old West, a holster slung around his waist, his hand training a revolver on me, the viewer….
As I excavated my personal history over many years of returning to Oregon, questions kept arising, still more troubling questions that brought to the surface the violent and extreme in our culture. The first time around, America’s dark underside found me. Later, I went looking for it. And it wasn’t hard to find. Of all developed nations, America is especially violent. It is violent by habit. My 3-D Viewmaster warned me of this when I was just four years old.
But I also found the other extreme. John Steinbeck said it just right in The Grapes of Wrath, our archetypal tale about lost American dreams: strange things happen to people in America. Some bitterly cruel. And some so beautiful that faith is refired forever."
July 13, 2010
Okay, I've long been obsessed by how we create our identities out of the stories we tell ourselves, and so the length and density of this book is a huge plus to me as it really talks about why the people involved remember things the way they do. Jentz is revisiting the town where (as a visiting bicyclist teen in the late 70s) she and a friend were run over by a truck whose driver then got out and struck them with an ax until both almost died. She look at how she's told this story and how that telling changes as she learns more about who might have been her attacker and why he was never caught or charged.
I understand (I think) why she chose not to talk about her lesbian identity and how it may have been impacted by her view of herself and her body, her intense attachment to and identification with her fellow attackee friend, the attack itself.... Maybe her next book can be that sort of memoir, because I suspect I'd find it fascinating and its absence seemed noteworthy to me at least.
I understand (I think) why she chose not to talk about her lesbian identity and how it may have been impacted by her view of herself and her body, her intense attachment to and identification with her fellow attackee friend, the attack itself.... Maybe her next book can be that sort of memoir, because I suspect I'd find it fascinating and its absence seemed noteworthy to me at least.
March 16, 2021
This is one of the best examples of the very reasoning that leads to wrongful convictions. Jentz's story itself is shockingly horrible. The fact that she is an exquisite writer only helps to bring her experience to life in a way that makes it impossible not to be as curious as she about who ran her over, chopped her with an axe, and left her to tell the tale. Her writing style is that of a master mystery novelist, never allowing too many clues to be revealed before their time. No matter how skilled a writer she is, and how compelling her search for this mad man is, and how low a character the person she suspects has, anytime someone looks for justice, it has to be based on evidence, not hunches, rumors, or -- worst of all -- the ouija board device called a lie detector. Jentz pins most of her hopes on a technology that is not even remotely reliable, especially during the time period in which this crime occurred. Even in the 2000s, study after study showed that most investigators were worse than chance at detecting lies when using the either galvanic skin response methods or fMRI. It is not admissible in court because there is not a single reputable study showing its efficacy.
Sure we could all feel better by catching someone and punishing them, especially if they are a domestic abuser. Feels pretty satisfying to expose and punish that type of abuser. I will definitely agree with that. But, if they didn't actually commit the crime, and from all the "evidence" presented by Jentz, there is zero reason to believe beyond a shadow of doubt (there is a huge shadow of doubt), then while you get to punish one bad guy, you are potentially still letting the real perpetrator live in society.
Jentz abhors any talk of wrongful conviction. To her, if you talk like that, you obviously are not upset enough about the crime. But our justice system is broken. Sure, it doesn't seem like the worst thing to be wrong and punish a domestic abuser. If you are wrong, they deserved punishment anyway. But, how about the myriad black people who have done nothing wrong and are convicted because they seem "scary," all "look alike" to white people, or just seem suspicious? Studies using DNA evidence show that 25% of convicted black people are innocent of the violent crime for which they were imprisoned. Jentz throws around her Princeton education quite a bit in this book; yet, she doesn't do anything to investigate the effects of wrongful conviction or the bad "science" behind polygraphs. They are a joke. They are not yet real science. So use them at a party for fun, but never punish a person based on a technique that doesn't have a single efficacy study that supports it. I understand the general public's lack of awareness around the efficacy of lie detection. But by 2006, when this was published, there were plenty of sources showing it was not at all a scientific method. If she is going to talk so much about her Princeton education, I think she should make use of it.
She was also pretty harsh of her treatment of her friend who almost died and suffered amnesia because of the attack. Jentz thinks there is only one way to deal with the attack, her way. It didn't matter that her friend, who was also brutally attacked, had a completely different way of dealing.
I think what Jentz went through is extremely terrifying and I am positive I would be as obsessed as she is to find out who committed such an unforgivable act. I think the police did a terrible job of investigating. I definitely agree with her about that. But far too often police arrest the wrong person and force the evidence to fit. That is no better than not solving the crime. In fact, it's worse because it allows the real criminal to go free and far too often punishes an innocent person. The person she targeted was far from innocent of committing violent acts. I would lose no sleep if he ended up behind bars, whether or not he committed this particular act. But promoting the type of thinking that locks up the wrong person, does a lot of harm to a lot of innocent people and I would definitely lose sleep over them. I just think we all have to be a lot more careful before locking someone in a cage for the rest of their life if there is a likelihood they are innocent.
Sure we could all feel better by catching someone and punishing them, especially if they are a domestic abuser. Feels pretty satisfying to expose and punish that type of abuser. I will definitely agree with that. But, if they didn't actually commit the crime, and from all the "evidence" presented by Jentz, there is zero reason to believe beyond a shadow of doubt (there is a huge shadow of doubt), then while you get to punish one bad guy, you are potentially still letting the real perpetrator live in society.
Jentz abhors any talk of wrongful conviction. To her, if you talk like that, you obviously are not upset enough about the crime. But our justice system is broken. Sure, it doesn't seem like the worst thing to be wrong and punish a domestic abuser. If you are wrong, they deserved punishment anyway. But, how about the myriad black people who have done nothing wrong and are convicted because they seem "scary," all "look alike" to white people, or just seem suspicious? Studies using DNA evidence show that 25% of convicted black people are innocent of the violent crime for which they were imprisoned. Jentz throws around her Princeton education quite a bit in this book; yet, she doesn't do anything to investigate the effects of wrongful conviction or the bad "science" behind polygraphs. They are a joke. They are not yet real science. So use them at a party for fun, but never punish a person based on a technique that doesn't have a single efficacy study that supports it. I understand the general public's lack of awareness around the efficacy of lie detection. But by 2006, when this was published, there were plenty of sources showing it was not at all a scientific method. If she is going to talk so much about her Princeton education, I think she should make use of it.
She was also pretty harsh of her treatment of her friend who almost died and suffered amnesia because of the attack. Jentz thinks there is only one way to deal with the attack, her way. It didn't matter that her friend, who was also brutally attacked, had a completely different way of dealing.
I think what Jentz went through is extremely terrifying and I am positive I would be as obsessed as she is to find out who committed such an unforgivable act. I think the police did a terrible job of investigating. I definitely agree with her about that. But far too often police arrest the wrong person and force the evidence to fit. That is no better than not solving the crime. In fact, it's worse because it allows the real criminal to go free and far too often punishes an innocent person. The person she targeted was far from innocent of committing violent acts. I would lose no sleep if he ended up behind bars, whether or not he committed this particular act. But promoting the type of thinking that locks up the wrong person, does a lot of harm to a lot of innocent people and I would definitely lose sleep over them. I just think we all have to be a lot more careful before locking someone in a cage for the rest of their life if there is a likelihood they are innocent.
November 25, 2008
This is the story of a woman who, in the late 1970s, was brutally attacked by a cowboy with a hatchet (and run over with a truck) while on a bike trip with a friend in oregon. She survived, the killer was never found, fifteen years later she goes after the truth, etc etc. The book needed at the very least 100 pages cut; she interviews the same people over and over and finds out the same things. Without giving away the ending, it's satisfying to the author but not to the reader. It wasn't terrible, but I could have spent the time invested in 572 pages a lot better.
July 24, 2017
I agree with what many other reviewers have said--this book could have been much shorter and might well have been better off remaining a private journal for the author. I have no trouble understanding her drive to find the man who nearly killed her and her friend, but it seems like once she lands on the "likeliest" suspect she begins twisting any and all "evidence" she finds to fit her previously-decided-upon conclusion. She clings to the smallest, often unsubstantiated details and to hearsay evidence from a variety of people who were not even close to the crime when it was perpetrated, 15 years before she began her investigation. Jentz seems to have gotten what she wanted out of writing this book--a sense of closure--but I as a reader was left with more questions than answers and a lingering concern that her prime suspect (whose name is changed in the book, thank goodness) may, through the vehicle of this story, have been tried in the court of public opinion and been found guilty--by the author, anyway--despite a total lack of hard evidence. I gave this book two stars because I respect Jentz's courage in facing a part of her life which obviously shook her very deeply, but there is simply not enough substance to make a compelling narrative or, in my opinion, convince a reader that the crime has been deeply and objectively investigated and can now be laid to rest.
January 24, 2015
My review is an averaging of the blissful writing of this book's beginning, when Terri Jentz and Shayna Weiss begin their blue-skied and angst-filled American odyssey in the wild West -- only to have it broken up by a powerful act of violence -- and this book's plodding, repetitive, preachy and possibly even slanderous middle portion. An investigation was bungled and no one was convicted of the crime that almost ended Terri and Shayna's lives, and that is awful. But at the same time, to dig so deeply into the faults of the character of a person you think may have attacked you, and to write it so extensively...I don't know. It doesn't rub me the right way.
Make no mistake: I wish Terri had her answers. And I believe this personal investigation and finding Dirk Duran to put a face (and a motive) to her cowboy gave her some kind of closure. But I tend to agree with other reviewers who believe maybe it would have been better as a journal for herself and her loved ones.
Make no mistake: I wish Terri had her answers. And I believe this personal investigation and finding Dirk Duran to put a face (and a motive) to her cowboy gave her some kind of closure. But I tend to agree with other reviewers who believe maybe it would have been better as a journal for herself and her loved ones.
August 31, 2014
This book encompasses the struggle of the writer as she tries to make sense of a senseless act of violence that changed her entire life as well as the life of her college roommate. Ms.Jentz writes about the thorough investigation she conducted and all those who cooperated with her interviews. It was frustrating to know that the perpetrator could not be tried for the crime, and there were many people in law enforcement that I feel did not implement those duties to serve and protect.
July 2, 2023
This is an important story to be told, and I can tell the author used this book as a sort of catharsis - a way to come to terms with what happened to her. Unfortunately, the details of the story are incredibly repetitive. This book could've easily been half the length. It was very hard to get through due to the redundancy. Furthermore, it bugged me that she kept comparing her attacker to Hitler and relating herself to Holocaust victims.
August 21, 2022
Terri Jentz, the author, was on a cross-country bike trip, with her Yale roommate, in 1977, when the unspeakable happened: while camping in a tent, in the Oregon desert, a man drove a pickup over their tent and attacked them with an ax. No one was ever charged with this horrific crime. Fifteen years later, Jentz returns to the small town where the event happened and starts doing some sleuthing herself. She makes some incredible discoveries. This is a solid true-crime tale. It could have used a little more editing but that is a minor quibble.
September 19, 2008
A coworker recommended Strange Piece of Paradise to me. In 1977, young college student Terri Jentz and her friend decided to bike across the country. They started in Oregon, and five days into their journey, when they were sleeping peacefully in their tent after a long day's ride, they were run over by a truck and brutally attacked by a mad axeman who stops short of killing them. Amazingly, they survived. Their parents whisked them back home on the east coast. Jentz's friend has no memory of the attack and does not want to remember it, but Jentz is haunted by the memory and the mystery, for the attacker was never found.
Several things drew me into this story. I, too, was the victim of a violent crime in 1977, and similar to the young man and woman who rescued her, still do not do well in the dark. I could relate to Jentz's figurative and literal scars from her attack.
Jentz began journeying back to Oregon in the 1990s to try to solve the crime herself. A piece of her was left raw and gaping, because she could not discuss the crime with her fellow survivor. In a way, she was lured back into Oregon, which had become a sort of evil place for her in her memory. Her healing journey was no doubt much more difficult because she left behind the scene of the crime without being able to process her pain and anger.
She was shocked to discover that nearly everyone in the central Oregon community agreed on the identity of the attacker, yet he was still free to continue to terrorize those around him, especially women and animals. The community also was scarred by the unsolved nature of the case, but for some reason, did not seem motivated enough to band together to do anything about it.
In her investigations, Jentz develops deep connections with many in the community, including her attacker's ex-wife and girlfriends, the young woman who rescued her, Bob and Dee Dee Kouns (crime victim advocates), law enforcement officials, and the nurses who cared for her in the hospital. She created her own caring community around Redmond, Oregon, the place where her attacker and his family continued to live.
This book seemed very long (546 pages hardback), and at times I felt desperate to finish it. It gave me a few nightmares, and I was glad to be done with it. Jentz's thorough descriptions and details give the reader the feeling of being right there with her, but it was exhausting at times.
The book also spoke volumes about violence against women in our culture. People in the central Oregon community theorized that Jentz and her friend were targeted because they were strong, independent women in the cowboy culture of the '70s. This axeman has been allowed to terrorize and abuse woman after woman without serving much jail time or having to pay for his crimes. The criminal justice system is not just. Even though the whole community agreed on the identity of Jentz's attacker, he was never thoroughly investigated as a serious suspect and never had to pay for his horrific crime.
Disturbing as it was, this is a book that will stick with me for a long time. And horrifying as it was to read many parts, I found the relationships and connections Jentz developed to be heartwarming and healing.
This is my favorite quote from the book:
"I believe that you meet people who are vital to your transformation only when the conditions are right, when the tenacious concerns of the unconscious break into awareness. Then such kindred spirits are drawn to each other like iron shavings to a magnet."
The only reason I am giving it 4 stars is that I found it a painful book to read.
Several things drew me into this story. I, too, was the victim of a violent crime in 1977, and similar to the young man and woman who rescued her, still do not do well in the dark. I could relate to Jentz's figurative and literal scars from her attack.
Jentz began journeying back to Oregon in the 1990s to try to solve the crime herself. A piece of her was left raw and gaping, because she could not discuss the crime with her fellow survivor. In a way, she was lured back into Oregon, which had become a sort of evil place for her in her memory. Her healing journey was no doubt much more difficult because she left behind the scene of the crime without being able to process her pain and anger.
She was shocked to discover that nearly everyone in the central Oregon community agreed on the identity of the attacker, yet he was still free to continue to terrorize those around him, especially women and animals. The community also was scarred by the unsolved nature of the case, but for some reason, did not seem motivated enough to band together to do anything about it.
In her investigations, Jentz develops deep connections with many in the community, including her attacker's ex-wife and girlfriends, the young woman who rescued her, Bob and Dee Dee Kouns (crime victim advocates), law enforcement officials, and the nurses who cared for her in the hospital. She created her own caring community around Redmond, Oregon, the place where her attacker and his family continued to live.
This book seemed very long (546 pages hardback), and at times I felt desperate to finish it. It gave me a few nightmares, and I was glad to be done with it. Jentz's thorough descriptions and details give the reader the feeling of being right there with her, but it was exhausting at times.
The book also spoke volumes about violence against women in our culture. People in the central Oregon community theorized that Jentz and her friend were targeted because they were strong, independent women in the cowboy culture of the '70s. This axeman has been allowed to terrorize and abuse woman after woman without serving much jail time or having to pay for his crimes. The criminal justice system is not just. Even though the whole community agreed on the identity of Jentz's attacker, he was never thoroughly investigated as a serious suspect and never had to pay for his horrific crime.
Disturbing as it was, this is a book that will stick with me for a long time. And horrifying as it was to read many parts, I found the relationships and connections Jentz developed to be heartwarming and healing.
This is my favorite quote from the book:
"I believe that you meet people who are vital to your transformation only when the conditions are right, when the tenacious concerns of the unconscious break into awareness. Then such kindred spirits are drawn to each other like iron shavings to a magnet."
The only reason I am giving it 4 stars is that I found it a painful book to read.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 2, 2018
This book felt interminable -- to the point that I'm surprised I was only reading it for about a week. By the end, I could barely wait to be finished.
The start was promising. Jentz drew in the reader with her easy writing and descriptions of her life before the attack, and then just after. I was especially captivated by her discussions of her trauma, and the ways that it made her react to Shayna (I could identify with those to some extent, too). But at some point, about halfway through, the book just fell apart.
I have a few main issues. First, the writing. Good God, the over-use of adjectives, the long paragraphs of describing Oregon--often for the fifth or sixth time, the same stretch of highway--and the unedited transcripts of conversations with every single person who may have existed within a 300 mile radius of Cline Falls... it became just a slog to read through. The book should have been at least 200 pages shorter, and I think it was a real editorial failing that it wasn't chopped down (heh) considerably.
Another big issue I had was Jentz's injections of her views on criminal defendants and the criminal justice system. I am incredibly aware that this book was written in the late 1990s, early 2000s -- our views, in general, on mass incarceration, sentencing, and stereotyping criminal defendants have changed in 2018, and my views may be especially opposite Jentz's. But it was difficult to read her proselytize about increasing criminal penalties and sentences for so many hundreds of pages.
Relatedly, I don't know, I was very uncomfortable with naming Duran the suspect based on 20 years of telephone-esque conversations among people who may or may not have heard something around Oregon, and without any physical or testimonial (conversations with a random person in a trailer park don't count) evidence whatsoever. By the end of the book, I was finding myself incredibly unsympathetic to Jentz and her crusade against Duran. The police should have investigated him as a suspect, there is no doubt about that. But Jentz seemed to be playing straight into confirmation bias in naming him and believing him to be her suspect.
All in all, I do somewhat regret spending time with this book -- I am only giving it two stars because I enjoyed the first half or so, and because after Googling, I was really happy to find that "Shayna Weiss" is working as a successful physician who seems very involved with her community. One can hardly blame her for not wanting to stay stuck in this morass forever, and I hope Jentz has made her way out of it, too.
The start was promising. Jentz drew in the reader with her easy writing and descriptions of her life before the attack, and then just after. I was especially captivated by her discussions of her trauma, and the ways that it made her react to Shayna (I could identify with those to some extent, too). But at some point, about halfway through, the book just fell apart.
I have a few main issues. First, the writing. Good God, the over-use of adjectives, the long paragraphs of describing Oregon--often for the fifth or sixth time, the same stretch of highway--and the unedited transcripts of conversations with every single person who may have existed within a 300 mile radius of Cline Falls... it became just a slog to read through. The book should have been at least 200 pages shorter, and I think it was a real editorial failing that it wasn't chopped down (heh) considerably.
Another big issue I had was Jentz's injections of her views on criminal defendants and the criminal justice system. I am incredibly aware that this book was written in the late 1990s, early 2000s -- our views, in general, on mass incarceration, sentencing, and stereotyping criminal defendants have changed in 2018, and my views may be especially opposite Jentz's. But it was difficult to read her proselytize about increasing criminal penalties and sentences for so many hundreds of pages.
Relatedly, I don't know, I was very uncomfortable with naming Duran the suspect based on 20 years of telephone-esque conversations among people who may or may not have heard something around Oregon, and without any physical or testimonial (conversations with a random person in a trailer park don't count) evidence whatsoever. By the end of the book, I was finding myself incredibly unsympathetic to Jentz and her crusade against Duran. The police should have investigated him as a suspect, there is no doubt about that. But Jentz seemed to be playing straight into confirmation bias in naming him and believing him to be her suspect.
All in all, I do somewhat regret spending time with this book -- I am only giving it two stars because I enjoyed the first half or so, and because after Googling, I was really happy to find that "Shayna Weiss" is working as a successful physician who seems very involved with her community. One can hardly blame her for not wanting to stay stuck in this morass forever, and I hope Jentz has made her way out of it, too.
January 30, 2016
This book describes a horrific event that happened to two 19-year-old girls, biking across the U.S. and camping overnight in a park in Oregon. My heart goes out to the author, Terri Jentz, and I wish I liked the book more than I did. Actually, it was all I could do to get through the entire 535-page book due to the author's microscopic attention to detail. TEDIOUS is the word that comes to mind. We heard not only the excruciating details of the incident itself, but every single dream, thought, emotion, reaction, etc., the author had regarding the incident over the next 15 years of her life. It's as though this attack was the defining incident in Ms. Jentz's life, & her preoccupation with it dominates every second of her life afterwards. To this day, although she's described as a "screenwriter" on the book flap & a "writer" on her Wikipedia page, she has never had anything published, other than this 2006 book. All references to her on the Web are about this book, interviews about this book, articles about this book, etc.
I felt horrible for these 2 girls, reading the gory details of the incident. But my sympathy for Ms. Jentz began to wane as the book went on; her insistence on telling her memories of the event to the other girl, who had moved on with her life & clearly did NOT wish to hear the gory details of the attack, made me very uncomfortable. Does this woman not understand the word "NO"? Being a victim herself, could she not try to empathize with someone who had a completely different reaction to the event than she, & wished to move on with her life instead of rehashing the event in excruciating detail? The other woman, by the way, went on to complete medical school, in spite of her permanent loss of vision; and is today a reputable physician in the Boston area, very active in her community.
My hope is that Ms. Jentz can find some peace & resolution, and LET GO! She has already given the perpetrator of this crime much too much power by devoting her entire existence to a single night in 1977.
I felt horrible for these 2 girls, reading the gory details of the incident. But my sympathy for Ms. Jentz began to wane as the book went on; her insistence on telling her memories of the event to the other girl, who had moved on with her life & clearly did NOT wish to hear the gory details of the attack, made me very uncomfortable. Does this woman not understand the word "NO"? Being a victim herself, could she not try to empathize with someone who had a completely different reaction to the event than she, & wished to move on with her life instead of rehashing the event in excruciating detail? The other woman, by the way, went on to complete medical school, in spite of her permanent loss of vision; and is today a reputable physician in the Boston area, very active in her community.
My hope is that Ms. Jentz can find some peace & resolution, and LET GO! She has already given the perpetrator of this crime much too much power by devoting her entire existence to a single night in 1977.
June 6, 2017
i read this on the recommendation of the murderinos of my favorite murder, who told terri's story on their podcast
first of all, terri jentz is a superhero
girl went from laying under the wheels of an actual truck and with chop wounds all over her to running around a park getting her (also wounded) friend AND ALL THEIR STUFF to a hospital, saving both of their lives
and their stuff (this part was a little funny to me, and i think to terri too, that she was for some reason obsessed that they leave no piece of camping gear behind)
for me, this is the story of a woman facing her trauma and healing a twenty year wound in her psyche by literally confronting her past, going back to the scene of a crime never solved, and writing her own story about it
the investigation is long and complicated, and because of that the book dragged a little for me
it's also 700 pages in paperback, so
but terri's determination to understand what happened to her by interviewing everyone even remotely connected to the incident is inspiring
i myself have a history of trauma and this book made me want to get out my reporter's notebook and nancy-drew my way to answers
in the end jentz doesn't just come to terms with her past
she solves the case of her own attempted murder, helps enact legislation to protect future victims, and sees her attacker jailed (for a different crime, but still)
she changed the world
may all women find strength in her journey
first of all, terri jentz is a superhero
girl went from laying under the wheels of an actual truck and with chop wounds all over her to running around a park getting her (also wounded) friend AND ALL THEIR STUFF to a hospital, saving both of their lives
and their stuff (this part was a little funny to me, and i think to terri too, that she was for some reason obsessed that they leave no piece of camping gear behind)
for me, this is the story of a woman facing her trauma and healing a twenty year wound in her psyche by literally confronting her past, going back to the scene of a crime never solved, and writing her own story about it
the investigation is long and complicated, and because of that the book dragged a little for me
it's also 700 pages in paperback, so
but terri's determination to understand what happened to her by interviewing everyone even remotely connected to the incident is inspiring
i myself have a history of trauma and this book made me want to get out my reporter's notebook and nancy-drew my way to answers
in the end jentz doesn't just come to terms with her past
she solves the case of her own attempted murder, helps enact legislation to protect future victims, and sees her attacker jailed (for a different crime, but still)
she changed the world
may all women find strength in her journey
September 17, 2018
This true tale took me forever to read. At over 700 pages it was a true tome and not easily lugged around in my bag. While the premise and the original story were rather interesting, the fact that no one was or could be brought to justice for this crime drove me nuts. Surely some American laws were meant to be rewritten. Thank God they finally managed to change the rules on length of time between crime and charges.
Is this a true tale for small town America? As much as they rallied together in Oregon, they also closed ranks and hid what appeared to be many truths. Would a town really do that and put all women in their state on fear for their lives simply because they were afraid of this man boy?
This book was far too long. Like I read in another review, maybe being hacked up by a hatchet and driven over by a truck gives the writer some leeway on the rambling department. However, I would have given more stars if there was less rambling and unnecessary retelling of interviews that went nowhere.
Is this a true tale for small town America? As much as they rallied together in Oregon, they also closed ranks and hid what appeared to be many truths. Would a town really do that and put all women in their state on fear for their lives simply because they were afraid of this man boy?
This book was far too long. Like I read in another review, maybe being hacked up by a hatchet and driven over by a truck gives the writer some leeway on the rambling department. However, I would have given more stars if there was less rambling and unnecessary retelling of interviews that went nowhere.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 14, 2008
I was fascinated by the horror of the crime and the courage of the victim in seeking justice.
May 11, 2019
Stunning true crime story! Two Yale female students, the author and her friend, were violently assaulted, in the summer of 1977, while camping in a tent in Kline Falls Park in Oregon. They both miraculously survived but no criminal was ever caught or tried for the heinous crime. 15 years later, the Jentz returns to Oregon to piece together what actually happened to the failed investigation herself and interview many from the small town where it happened. The results of her painstaking return to the violent details of her almost murder will shock and horrify you and make you wonder how the investigation failed to bring the likely suspect to be arrested and convicted. 4.5 stars.
April 2, 2024
One of the most incredible books I've ever read. Terri Jentz lays out that all slights against women are on the same track as the most undeniable evils. Calling out misogynistic attitudes and behaviors, her book gives voice to the existence of the unforgivable in our midst, stating that some rare people among us do evil simply because it’s what they like to do. So few voices say these things. She also observes that innocence, naïveté, complacency, complicity, and good intentions can and sometimes do manifest their own kind of evil. All of us need to understand that. Her narrative of the horrific attack at Cline Falls State Park, told the way she chose to tell it, on her terms, inspires.
October 6, 2025
This one really got under my skin. There is this sense of morbid curiosity that kept me reading as Jentz revisits the site of her own attempted murder to uncover the truth. This story was as much about survival and self-identity as it is about the crime itself.
July 29, 2023
Beautifully written and a wonderful retelling. Some parts are a bit graphic, but this is a true crime novel. Jentz did a spectacular job telling her story and reclaiming her life. Read so much like a movie, but is all true events. Can not recommend this book enough. Especially if you enjoy true crime.
October 4, 2024
A moving and harrowing account. Not a page turner but a book that kept my attention throughout.
June 20, 2022
I liked it quite a bit. It took me about the first 20% to get really interested in it. The biggest complaints I see are that it is too long, but I didn’t really think so. I enjoyed the way she told the story with so many details about her investigation.
January 4, 2019
Feminist. True. Crime.
February 7, 2024
One of the best memoirs I've ever read!
April 17, 2018
The best laid plans of mice and men were not to be for Terri Jentz. A 4,200 mile bicycle ride from Oregon to Virginia ended rather abruptly. Terri and a college roommate, Shayna, were run over by a truck while sleeping in a tent. The careless driver followed up with an axe, leaving the two girls for dead. Teri’s account alternates between the attack in June of 1977 and a return to Oregon fifteen years later in search of answers. A police report was available and Terri was told that attempted murder had a three year statute of limitations. She learned quickly of the low level of interest in the horrific case. Terri went back to Oregon in 1993 and met the couple who had rescued her. They were no longer together but had vivid memories of that night. In a bizarre twist, his current girlfriend named a suspect who was seventeen at the time of the crime. Another man in jail for murder was also possibly the axe man. Jentz’s book has the feel of an Agatha Christie whodunit, with only the butler missing. Unsubstantiated rumors and a long line of witnesses gave differing accounts of the event. Jentz obtained the original notes from the first cops who arrived at the crime scene. Her number one suspect continued to be the seventeen year-old, bad tempered high school boy. He owned a truck and dressed like a cowboy. The problem was, so did many others in the area at that time. The author repeats the same details ad nauseam and should have stayed on track with the story. She focused on the high school boy who had spent the next seventeen years abusing women. Jentz tracked down a few of his former partners, and their experiences were cringe worthy. Witness after witness gives their memories of the boy with the volatile personality who had severe anger management issues. One person leads to a long chain of others, and there is no clear resolution. Strange Piece of Paradise is more a personal revelation of self discovery than it is a true crime book. Jentz writes with elegance, but she needed a good editor to cut too much extraneous material.
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