Archived Edition: September 12, 2007 | Back to Current	Jul 31, 2010

Sinister story, wonderful book
Samantha Segan - Arts Editor

The calculating gaze of a serial killer that leaps off the cover of Entering Hades draws readers in immediately, and does not let them go until the end of the book. This nonfiction account reads like the most thrilling of murder mysteries; I found myself double-checking the endnotes to assure myself that, in fact, every word of the meticulously researched book is true. The book, written by John Leake, tells the story of Jack Unterweger, a famous Austrian writer and serial killer in the early 1990’s. Leake fascinatingly intermingles the natural dialogue recalled by those he interviews with insights drawn from Unterweger’s own work, and the result is an enthralling, sinister tale.



Unterweger, the serial killer on whom the book centers, was a literary figure in his own right, the darling of the most artistic, experimental circles in Austria. He was a journalist, a novelist and a playwright; in fact, that is how he won his freedom from prison, after his life sentence for committing murder in his early twenties. The murderer was let out early due to the rehabilitation supposedly immanent in his fiction. In fact, Leake exposes that his release was the result of the dangerous charisma the serial killer used to seduce his female victims, before he brutally, ritualistically strangled them with their own undergarments.



The book fascinates not only because of the thrill of the chase and the interest inherent in the psyche of a malignantly narcissistic sociopath. Rather, it is a bold statement as to the effect of fame, charisma and the supposedly unassailable position of art in post-Communist Austria, more paranoid about censorship than serial killers. The fact that Unterweger, who told obvious lies in his so-called autobiography and relied only on charm to cover up his lack of alibis, haunts and fascinates by his ability to garner so much support. The enthralling character of the terrible man hangs over the book like a sinister shadow.



Entering Hades begins with a description of the crime, and a discussion of the psychology of serial killers. The latter is interesting but perhaps too protracted for enjoyment, the stuff of scientific papers rather than literature. In addition, Leake sacrifices some of the mystery he could have extracted from the book due to his early exposition. On the other hand, it is informative and intriguing, if not quite so much as the tale of Unterweger himself. Descriptions of the crime scenes themselves are detailed without being gratuitously gruesome, and manage to show respect for the victims.



Some parts of the story remain a mystery, even at the end. Unterweger never confessed to the murders, even during his second trial, at which he was convicted. Doubt remains to the end (of the book, and of his life) as to whether he truly committed the crime of killing eleven women, all lower-class prostitutes.



Leake’s account is carefully unbiased, for all its literary merit. And despite the slightly clunky beginning, Entering Hades does have considerable visceral appeal. Leake has a rare knack for converting the anecdotal into a continuous plot, and arranges the transitions between viewpoints of those he interviewed (“friends” of Jack, former lovers, and investigators working on the case) with consummate skill and deftness.



It is easy to forget that the story is true, an effect that is at once a virtue and a drawback to the story, which explores the boundaries between truth and fiction. After all, its main character was an author (Unterweger is now deceased). His duplicity, and the duplicity inherent in any written work, forms an odd subtext to the book, which is, after all, a nonfiction account made vividly detailed, almost to the point of incredibility. Where does truth lie in Entering Hades? Does Leake influence us to be suspicious of Jack Unterweger, just as Jack himself influences his readers to believe him, through charisma and narrative proficiency?



Leake also makes a serious statement about the possibility of rehabilitation for sociopaths. There simply is no such possibility, according to several sources he cites. The book ends with palpable relief at Unterweger’s death. Perhaps most troubling is the willingness people felt to believe him rehabilitated, and to exalt Unterwerger for his former criminal status. What does it say about us that we are so fascinated by killers? What does it say about me that I found this book so fascinating?



Regardless of the answer to those questions, Entering Hades is indeed an enthralling and worthwhile read. I thoroughly recommend it once it comes out in November 2007.