Pincus’s medical colleagues routinely label such people “sociopaths” or having “antisocial personality disorder.” But Pincus believes that such descriptions are useless tautologies that do not explain why someone would commit an antisocial act. Only about 6 percent of the population causes about 70 percent of violent crime, according to current statistics. Much of the book presents a comprehensible, detailed explanation of the complex interrelationship between the brain and the environment. He seeks to examine violent crimes from an objective, dispassionate and scientific perspective. Pincus is the chief of neurology at the Veteran’s Administration Hospital, Washington DC, and professor of neurology at Georgetown University School of Medicine. While limited in its analysis of the social dimension of violence-the author focuses mainly on family circumstances, especially childhood abuse, rather than wider social factors-the book constitutes a powerful repudiation of the religious-moralistic view of violent behavior that currently dominates the media and public policy in America.ĭr. This recent volume by neurologist Jonathan Pincus examines social, psychological and neurological reasons why certain people commit terrible acts of murder. Norton & Company, Inc., New York, NY, 2001 It’s not fun.Base Instincts: What Makes Killers Kill?, by Jonathan H. You’ve never had a restless night from imagining someone deboning a human body while blaring ‘Waterloo’ or ‘Fernando’.
He never borrowed music from us again – he claimed our music was too disturbing and dark, and shunned our offerings of Ministry and Nine Inch Nails in favor of something nice and happy by Abba. Other times I listened in horror as my favorite Thomas Dolby songs were accompanied by an annoying high-pitched buzzsaw whine that altered as if it had entered some sort of solid tissue. The strange thumps sometimes suggested that he’d gotten a live one downstairs and was merrily bashing in their skull in the name of his psoriasis to the tune of ‘It’s My Life’ by Talk Talk. I tried not to think about why he was playing the music, but it was a little hard not to think about. The next weekend, we had gone right back to the 80’s with the Missing Persons and Dead or Alive. Sam had jokingly given him an Einstürzende Neubauten CD on the premise that his tools would blend right in to the music, and he’d returned it the next day, saying it was too suspicious-sounding and made him very nervous for some reason. So was Duran Duran’s ‘Hungry like the Wolf’. This was basically a list of songs that our serial killing landlord had blared at one time or another at top volume to cover the sound of his heavy electric power tools. It had turned into a list of Songs That You Would Never See In The Same Light Again. The blackboard in the kitchen had once been installed as a way of communication for the house. Lloyd moved to the blackboard and wrote ‘Maneater, Hall and Oates’ at the bottom of a long list of songs and artists. He recoiled and rose his hand to me, at first I flinched but I stopped.
I jumped over and pulled at Adam’s shoulders, fingertips driving into the nook of his collarbone, pressing down with as much as I had in me, anything to break his hold. ‘My wife.’ He yelled, ‘She’s my wife, silverblood.’ With each growl of a syllable he accented it with a punch to Vanian’s face.
The tightness of his grip paled the Faerie’s cheeks, caused the blood to trickle down faster, dropping to the floor. I shook my head, was about to speak but Adam grabbed him by the front of his shirt as if a few more tears and shreds couldn’t go amiss. He’s wrong!’ Vanian pleaded, I could feel the quiver of his magic, the wisps that were fighting against the iron burning into his wrists, I could feel the crackle as it fought in the air, against his emotions, against his pain. ‘You can’t let him lure you back in, Felicia.
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