This was a really beautifully written true crime book (which is not the adjective I normally used to describe true crime with). You can tell this isn't O'Connell's usual genre, which isn't a bad thing. I really enjoyed his insight throughout the book. I found myself admiring how poetic it was. I often wonder what the interviewer is thinking when I read books like this, so it was nice to hear his opinion.

The problems I have with the book are not O'Connell's fault. In fact, I believe I share the same view as him, you find yourself yearning for answers you're never going to get. You want a reason, some kind of explanation whether it be abuse as a child, TBI, etc. that sheds some light as to why someone would kill two innocent people in cold blood. You get nothing from Macarthur. There is not a sliver of satisfaction. He read books all day in prison which is what he did on a daily basis anyway, and now that he is out, the government pays for his apartment and gives him a monthly allowance. He got exactly what he wanted. He got a life with no worry and work. It was "I had a good childhood and a hefty trust fund. I spent my money poorly and instead of getting a job with my various degrees, I will rob a bank because I hate the thought of working for a living." It was so frustrating seeing Macarthur separate himself from his crimes. It was like watching a child blame a broken vase on their imaginary friend.

In conclusion, the writing was great and Malcolm Macarthur sucks.