I’m the critic who liked Paul Bernardo’s fiction
calling it a ‘magnum opus from the mind of the criminally insane .
The greatest work of art from a serial killer since Charles Manson covered the Beatles’ Helter Skelter.’
Apparently I’m supposed to critique the artist not the art
as people have called me, ‘sick’ but not in the good way sick.
They have called me ‘perverted’
and ‘an enabler of evil’ and
‘somebody who would like Hitler’s paintings’
and I would if they were any good
good people can do bad stuff
just like bad people can do good stuff
so I don’t feel I need to retract my endorsement:
‘A great first novel from the laptop of one of Canada’s most horrible people. The best crime novel written from prison since The Sixteenth Round by Rubin Carter.’
Turns out putting your name to to the cover of a Paul Bernardo novel is a career killer. Now no one takes me seriously because I called the book, ‘the best work Bernardo has ever done.’ It’s true. It is.
It’s you who’s got the problem if you think he’s done better.