Dear Damaged Dex

[cibeleanjo]

We just finished the first season of Dexter. Like, wow. Mega wow. I haven't felt this satisfied by a TV show since, um, Heroes. Hehe. Ok, maybe in a different way. A very different way. Dexter, the loveable sociopath. Not only do you get a glimpse into his head, but he invites you in, gives you the grand tour, narrates his life for you (literally). I loved the narration in The Dresden Files and Burn Notice, but here it's something I wouldn't have believed could be done, at least not easily. How do you relate to someone who lacks the capacity to relate to anyone? I speculated on this once, because I wanted to write a story myself this way, a psychopath narrating. I must give props to the writers, for their well-written juxtaposition -- making a sociopath someone with whom we *could* relate, while at the same time keeping that edginess, the obvious morbid discomfort at watching him happily put an electric drill to a screaming victim. We're never *fully* able to sympathize with him, of course (at least I hope not). There's always that tension between feeling what he does, and feeling what we do. There's always a little bit of horror mixed in with the fascination. (At least for me...)

Sigh. Now that it's over, what am I going to ponder whilst I mindlessly shelve file after file all day at work? Oh, of course -- Dexter icons! :)

Anyways, if you haven't seen the first season of Dexter, go get it! I command thee! :D