It might have sounded like the ultimate high-concept pitch: a post-Serial Killer Chic book by notorious Moors Murderer Ian Brady that distilled his misanthropic philosophy and offered psychoanalyses of other serial killers. The literary equivalent of splicing the Marquis de Sade and Halloween POV shots. The kind of book, that while not exactly the FBI's Crime Classification Manual, might be idly perused by Behavioral Science Unit students. A book by a notorious 'bad seed' that refracted Thomas Harris through an unapologetic and confronting natural philosophy.

As Colin Wilson narrates in his Foreward, what became The Gates of Janus grew organically from discussions between Wilson and Brady about his 40-year old crimes. Wilson's explanation is counter-pointed by Peter Sotos' closing Afterward, which offers an overview of the Moors Murders through book excerpts newspaper cuttings. Brady's 'confessions' are notably absent. Caught in the cross-fire discussion about the merits of the True Crime genre versus Child Erotica is Feral House publisher Adam Parfrey, defended by Wilson as the 'likeliest publisher' of Brady's book due to an interest in fringe viewpoints, [1] and then assailed by Sotos because of Parfrey's probable black-market tip-off (a known US child pornographer) of the book's existence. [2] 'Respectable' publishing and lit-reviews be damned: Brady's tone throughout his philosophical exegesis and analyses 'play' to the Serial Killer Chic convention of the erudite cell-bound 'gentleman psychopath' expected by his audience. There are no innocent readers.

The philosophical exegesis focuses on the kind of dystopian logic and moral relativism that Anthony Burgess and Stanley Kubrick explored in A Clockwork Orange (1971). Topics range from urban control of space and Blue Thunder-style police surveillance [3] and how CIA-backed Kissingerian realism "destabilizes foreign governments" [4] to the lucrative US private prison industry [5] and how modern life creates self-delusion. [6]

Ian Brady doesn't go into specific details; he had already 'mind-read' his audience in advance to craft what topics to talk about. Forget the brutal nature of his crimes and, playing the 'role' of a neophyte profiler, hear the seductiveness of his dark knowledge. By capturing the reader's senses, Brady exacts an alchemical transference of consciousness that challenges 'received' moral codes. Throw in some stock literary references--Nietzsche, Shelley, Dickens, Shakespeare--for added resonance.

On the surface, Brady's analyses of serial killers seems banal: his prose focuses on voyeuristic details of the crime scenes at the expense of acknowledging the violence perpetuated against the victims. His style is closer to Jim Thompson than John Douglas. Brady does summarize Crimonology and Forensic Psychology 101, notably in sections dealing with the Psychopathic/Psychotic Factors at the Crime Scene [7] and the FBI Behavioral Science Unit's findings on sexually motivated serial killers. [8]. His profile of John Wayne Gacy, for example, examines the role of Gacy's homoerotic and sadistic sex practices [9], which is later contrasted with Peter Sutcliffe's Biblical fixation and wrath on prostitutes. [10]

Some readers may be drawn to Brady's profiles of celebrity serial killers, including Henry Lee Lucas, Richard Ramirez, and Ted Bundy (also mentioned by Slayer). Brady's details can be found in his commentaries after outlining each case. While discussing Ramirez, he draws attention to the solitary nature of planning a killing and the act of writing, [11] and how Ted Bundy used his legal knowledge to 'read' the hidden aspects of society. [12] Brady's philosophical exegesis and commentaries not only explore the natural limits of societal morality, but also the moral and religious implications of an individual Will to Power that preys on others. To explain his multi-motivational model of serial killers' motivations, Brady draws upon the FBI's BSU, Carl Jung's multi-personae model of psychology, [13] and forensic psychology. But lurking behind the respectable persona, the reader of this forsaken grimoire will find matricide, necrophilia, bisexual rape, and other morbid preoccupations.

The real damage of this book is not its wittily exploitative publisher (in the best sense: think Val Lewton, early Sam Raimi, the art noir world of Peter Greenaway) or its taboo subject matter (sex, murder, art). No, the real danger lies in Brady's subjective approach to the subjective universe. Liberal condemnations miss the point: accepting some of Brady's nihilistic critique of contemporary society begins to erode the Traditionalist emphasis on absolutistic moral systems and values.

Until I read Sotos' Afterward (which has a 'questionable' sincerity), I found myself 'forgetting' Brady's crimes and his imprisonment since 1963. Maybe that artificial fugue reflected the environs within which I read his book--a suburban train station, sunlit parks, a burlesque public bar. The discerning student of human psychology, even in its most abnormal forms, will take from Brady's tome what they will. For me, the most invaluable part of this book may not have been what Brady intended (a form of literary immortality). A chance to confront my own demons by self-observing a dark potential that could be prevented from coming into being.

Endnotes:

[1] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 30.

[2] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 297.

[3] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 66.

[4] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 58-59.

[5] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 43.

[6] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 76.

[7] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 105-109.

[8] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 98-99.

[9] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 128.

[11] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 178.

[12] Ian Brady. The Gates of Janus. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001. 203.