Customer Reviews

Cat and Mouse: Mind Games With a Serial Killer

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There is material for a great book in here somewhere: prostitute killer Bill Suff, despite his ordinary exterior, was one weird dude. Most of his victims he left posed in strange positions. One had her head buried in the ground, another was dressed in a bizarre outfit complete with comical striped socks, a light bulb carefully inserted inside her womb. Obviously, the guy had some issues. Lane promises to dig deep into Suff's psyche, but by the end of the book he has merely scratched the surface. He reprints pages of Suff's own writing (including a cookbook, of all things), which isn't as interesting as he would like us to believe, and spends much of the book ruminating over his own life, which is definitely tragic and twisted in its own right, but not relevant enough to the case of Bill Suff to merit inclusion (maybe in another book?). There is no mistaking that Lane is a talented writer, and that there are sections of the book that are genuinely insightful, but all the more reason to be disappointed when the whole thing doesn't cohere in the end. The best that can be said for it is that it is probably worth being frustated by.

I am appalled that this book would even be published. Not only is this book unnecessary but distasteful and disrespectful, especially to the victims' families. I am a daughter of one of the victims, and to hear that this garbage is out there and that William Suff is getting any type of recognition as well as a profit for the heinous crimes is disturbing. Maybe there should be a book about the hard times and the pain and the impact this made on each family and what they had to overcome. Not some sick deranged man, that is getting credit for killing women.

Hack screenwriter Brian Lane tries to capitalize on his being a serial killer's lawyer with this mess of a publication, a witch's brew of foul ingredients: multiple murderer/mutilator William Suff's own pathetic fiction, Lane's wimpy justifications of his own unfortunate past, and believe it or not: a cookbook by Suff ! Includes sickening photos of Suff's victims, and ludricrous alibis for the very unphotogenic Suff.

Let me just pile on and say that this was the worst "true-crime" writing I've ever chanced across, and I've read a lot in this genre. "Snuff the Suff," indeed. He should have been fed his mayonaisse-infused chili every day. He'd have dropped soon enough. The reader, provided he's interested in author Brian Lane, will not find this a total waste of time. Oooh, not at all interested in Brian Lane? You're not going to like this book in that case.

I came here to write a review for one of the worst books I ever tried to read and discovered the feeling is universal. I worked in Lake Elsinore, CA during when some of Suff's murders took place, and I was working nearby in Perris, CA when this book was published. Other reviewers have pointed out the terrible writing, confusing progression, and the writer's choice to make this about himself. My problem is that he started weaving fiction into the book from the very first pages, talking about the drifting sands of Lake Elsinore, of which there are none. So from the very first he tips his hand that this is not a serious work, but merely exaggeration, made up facts, and worse. I question how many of his supposed conversations with Suff were made up as well. Don't waste your money.

Where to start with this whiff of literary effluvia? The first thing you'll notice are the disturbingly gruesome pictures. That's no mistake. The author must have gone through every police file available to get the nastiest, most shocking shots he could. He HAD to, otherwise he would never have sold a single copy of this...book. The pictures are there to distract you from the author's endless, boring stories about HIMSELF. I'd say a quarter of this book is about the life and crimes of Bill Suff, and the rest is a vainglorious autobiography of the author himself: An uplifting tale of a nerdy boy who grew into a rabbity man, overcoming obstacles such as car accidents and invisibility to pretty girls until he eventually found his calling as a writer for Matlock and Hunter. WHO CARES? Shut up already!

The inclusion of Bill Suff's cookbook and his idiotic writings (a lame ghost story and a tale about a gentle soul who's been wrongly imprisoned - talk about someone who watches too much tv) are there for the same reason as the pictures. The novelty of a serial killer cookbook will sell more copies. The irony is that the author praises these writings as unusually professional - like he would know what that looks like! But he's got a point. Compared to his own, they really are.

Another thing that bothers me is the "Novelization" of the murders. Apparently, the author can read the thoughts of the victims and detail how they tried to bargain with their killer, despite the fact that they never lived to tell what they had been thinking that day, and their killer isn't about to tell anyone what they said either. How does the author know that Suff licked a victim and thought she tasted "sweet"? How does he know that the victim, a prostitute, had been happy that all her customers were easy to please that day? It's all just speculation. The thing about Suff putting a body part into his award-winning chili for the cookoff is speculation too. There's no proof, just innuendo that might sell more copies.

This is a really boring book. You can skip page after page and not miss a thing. Brian Alan Lane should go back to writing unmemorable episodes of barely memorable tv shows and leave the real writing to someone can pay attention to the subject.

I thought the book was very disturbing. First of all, it skipped around too much and it delved into the life of the author, which I found strange. Secondly, why did they have to put those awfully graphic pictures in there? And third, the short stories and cookbook were totally inappropriate material for the topic of the actual book. Another thing, why did they give Mr. Suff's family(Don)half the proceeds from this book? It should've went to the victims families. And last might I add that Kimberly Lyttle had been a childhood friend of mine whom I had not seen in years and I was truly devastated by her death and the fact that she left behind a daughter and father who loved her.