Mona Dexter
Strictly speaking, my family and I do not watch television, but we do have one, and every so often we get DVDs of almost-but-not-quite-current series. This week, while our son is at camp, my husband and I have been more or less obsessively watching the first two seasons of Dexter . You know the premise: attractive and congenial Dexter works for the Miami Metro Police Department as a forensic specialist in blood spatter by day, but by night he becomes a ruthless serial killer, hunting down others who have taken innocent lives, his killing governed by a strict procedural code but motivated only by his need to feel something other than the great emptiness that otherwise threatens to consume him. Over the course of the first season, we learn the reason for his emptiness: as a young boy, he saw his mother hacked to death with a chain saw, only to spend the next several days locked in a cargo container inches deep in her blood. By the time that the police found him, he had lost his humani...