Last year, when we were all tucked in to stay safer at home, a friend of mine was reading and reviewing books for the annual BookTube Prize. When I offered to purchase some of the books she needed to read and have them sent her way, I turned to a local bookshop–Amazon was getting enough of my money! I ordered several books that my BFF needed and have them sent to her front door. One of those books was American Predator.
I’m a fan of true crime, but I had never heard about Israel Keyes before reading this book. In a way, the narrative was both disturbing and disappointingly dry. Perhaps that is actually a gift to the reader, to keep us from getting far too freaked out by the calm and meticulous demeanor of a cold and ruthless killer. Keyes crisscrossed the country–and possibly Canada–burying “kill kits” that could be dug up and put to use whenever he wanted. But the details about Israel Keyes’s crimes pale in comparison to the mountain of unknowns he left behind when he took his own life in an Alaskan prison. And I think those “what ifs” are what will stay with me longer than the details of his crimes.