Aileen Wuornos is a dam­aged soul, a gen­uine Amer­i­can out­law, a sym­bol of wom­en’s rage, a sym­bol of what can hap­pen to severe­ly abused chil­dren, and of how our jus­tice sys­tem fails women.

Chesler’s involve­ment with a ser­i­al killer has haunt­ed her ever since. She speaks in Aileen Wuornos’ voice, as well as in her own, and deliv­ers an inci­sive, orig­i­nal, and dra­mat­ic por­trait of a cog­ni­tive­ly impaired, trau­ma­tized, and alco­holic woman who had endured so much pain in her short life. When she’d had enough, the results were deadly.

This is a poignant, some­times humor­ous, nev­er-before-told behind-the-scenes tale. Wuornos’ sto­ry is han­dled with great sen­si­tiv­i­ty, but also with real­is­tic detach­ment by Chesler as she probes the telling moment, the telling phrase. Was Wuornos suf­fer­ing from post-trau­mat­ic stress after a life lived on a ​“killing field?” Was she also ​“born evil?” So many pros­ti­tutes have been tor­ture-mur­dered by ser­i­al killers – how did Wuornos, once prey, become a predator?

Requiem for a Female Ser­i­al Killer will also haunt you. It won’t let you put it down.