As a rule, I don't care for serial killer books or films -- they just don't interest me the way "regular" crime stories do. Common motivations such as jealousy and greed, when handled well, can be more than powerful enough to sustain a character or drive a plot. The twisted psychoses of serial killers just don't do it for me. That said, this nonfiction account of a real life serial killer in Italy, and the investigation that followed in his wake, makes for some very compelling reading. The reason has far less to do with the killer's grisly trail of bodies, than it does with the crazy ins and outs of the investigation and how the authors end up on the wrong end of it all.
Preston is a bestselling thriller writer who moved to Italy to research and write a novel revolving around great flood that struck Florence in 1966. By chance, he learned that an olive grove adjacent to the farmhouse he rented was the site of one of the crimes performed by a notorious serial killer. Intrigued, he met the veteran Italian crime journalist who would become his collaborator on this book, and started to learn everything he could about the case. And with a series of killings stretching from 1968-85, there was a lot to learn. Fortunately, Preston does a pretty good job of untangling the case and laying it out for the reader (albeit, with some repetitions).
What many readers will find extremely interesting is the relatively insulated nature of the Italian justice system, and how in this case, insulation from external oversight led to some absolutely colossal failures of investigation, not to mention outright corruption. Those with an interest in Italy may find some rather interesting insights into Italian national character along the way, such as the concept of saving face and the notion that it is vital to be "in the know" or "savvy" (which means not taking anything at surface value, no matter how plausible it may be). Some of these characteristics are what lead to Preston and Spetzi becoming targets of the serial killer investigation, leading the entire story into Kafkaesque farce. (At times, Preston goes a little overboard in describing his own fear of being prosecuted, especially when some of problems are of his own making. For example, if the police in a foreign country say that you have a right to have an interpreter and a lawyer present at your questioning, take them up on it!)
Ultimately, some readers may be somewhat frustrated by the lack of a clear "solution" or resolution to the crimes -- although the authors do point a very plausible finger at one man. And some aspects of the situation aren't very well explained -- such as why the Italian media would sometimes have an insatiable appetite for anything relating to the case, and other times appear not care. Finally, at times, the ineptitude of the Italian cops and prosecutors is so extreme that it strains credulity Nonetheless, this remains a fascinating true crime book, and one that will severely tax any reader's romantic notions of Tuscany.