Oh, I don't know what to think about this. It's a compelling read, a well-written read, but it is not a likeable one, and it often doesn't reach beyond the superficial. In fact, it's hard not to feel an increasing lack of sympathy for the author as she chronicles her romance with Ted Bundy. On the one hand, I can certainly feel compassion for anyone who's sucked in by a serial killer, and Kendall's life with him did appear relatively normal for so long. But she kept getting sucked in, and sucked in, and sucked in, and eventually you have to stop and wonder what kind of person is just this hopelessly self-destructive. I realise she was an alcoholic at the time, and that clouded her judgement, but that judgement was still pretty fucking poor. I read another true crime book recently, Monster, and a large part of that was another woman refusing to let go of her romance with a serial killer, and it baffles me, it truly does. The total dysfunctional romanticism of it... honestly, it defies belief. To Kendall's credit, the added chapter at the end of the book (this is an updated edition) is much more clear-headed, and entirely absent of the excuses and the simpering which characterised much of the original text. Gone are the protestations of love; in their place is a unflinching recognition of evil. Well, better late than never.

Much more sympathetic is the final chapter added by Kendall's daughter, Molly, who was a small child when she first met Bundy. No-one could possibly blame her for trusting him, and yet it's clear that, as the years went on, she had a much clearer picture of him than her mother did, and when the truth came out, an absolute and inveterate hatred, untainted by sentimental reminiscences. I can only surmise that this common sense came from her father's side of the family, and I feel like a terrible person writing that, because I think that Kendall has likely been the recipient of a lot of unearned disgust over the years and I should probably not be adding to it. Bundy's actions were not her fault. She wasn't involved in his crimes in any way, and she went to the police for help when she suspected him. Her recovery from him, and from alcohol, should be praised... but this book isn't about her recovery, or not until that very final chapter. It's about her being all-in on an extremely unhealthy relationship, about her continually doubling down on that relationship against all sense and reason, and it was hard to read. The most sympathetic person here, apart from poor little Molly, is Kendall's friend Angie, who at one point walked away from her friend entirely because of her determination to wallow in this godawful relationship, suspecting as she did that her lover might be a murderer. Good for you, Angie. In this book, that level of self-respect is a beacon of sanity.