I have read any number of literary serial killer books in my lifetime – and yes, the category does exist. Those books include Wolf at the Table by Adam Rapp, about a family harboring a serial killer in their midst, A Tiny Upward Shove by Melissa Chadburn that traces the journey of two of society’s castoffs as they make their way to each other as criminal and victim, and Notes on an Execution by Danya Kukafka, a novel that explores the aftermath of a serial killer’s actions through the perspectives of women connected to him.
All were quite good. But I have never, ever, read a tour de force like Abigail Dean’s The Death of Us. In a remarkable feat, the author defines what may be the most intimate and enduring relationship a woman might ever experience – the relationship between her and her rapist and potential killer – and how it adds an unwanted third party to a one-time happy marriage.
Abigail and Edward are at a good point in their marriage. Certainly, it is not perfect – no marriage ever really is – but it’s built on love and caring. And then, in the middle of the night, a serial rapist, whose feats have been reported on often by local media, gets into their home in the middle of the night. For over five hours, he brutally rapes and abuses Abigail while Edward is brought to another room. We do not know for quite some time what psychological horrors Edward endured that night.
We meet up with this couple after a few decades, when the perpetrator, who has graduated to killing, is finally brought to justice and the victims are brought together to share impact statements before sentencing. His name is Nigel Wood. We know this because right from the start, Abigail addresses her chapter to him, using the “you” pronoun. For example, she reflects, “There was no exorcising you, Nigel. You changed the way I walked home on a Friday evening. You changed the taste of wine, the plot of a novel, the confidence of Edward’s hands.” As the novel progresses, Nigel is always inside her, constantly directing how she thinks, reacts, feels, and experiences herself. The only one who can possibly understand is Etta, the detective who is initially assigned to the case.
Abigail’s chapters are always written in the past, as she recalls what happened and the resulting years. “I wasn’t friendless, but I was entirely alone,” she says. Edward’s chapters are firmly linked to the present – the up-and-coming victim statements. Through the years, he has given himself back to the business of living, running from the demons that haunt him including his powerlessness that fatal night.
The Death of Us is not a “serial murder” story. It is a story of love, a story of two people who, despite small cruelties and bigger mistakes, in spite of a shattering night that changed everything, manage to triumph. Not completely, of course – nothing will erase Nigel’s connection. But in a most essential way, choosing to live despite him. This novel, filled with psychological insights and complexity, gives us a glimpse of the stories we tell ourselves to struggle forward.