KAREN

An actor pays tribute to his murdered sister.

Fifty years ago, Grammer’s 18-year-old sister, Karen, was kidnapped from the Red Lobster where she worked. She was then raped, tortured, and stabbed to death by killers on a rampage through Colorado Springs. A spirit medium named Esther channeled the voice of Karen from beyond the grave, instructing the actor to write a book about her. The result is a repetitive stream-of-consciousness account marked by metanarrative digressions that try the reader’s patience. A letter to the reader on page 84 suggests one put the book down if Grammer’s “no affectation or filter” approach doesn’t suit. The lack of filter generates jarring moments with regard to women’s bodies, World War II war crimes, and current ideas about privilege and race, as well as passages like this: “Dear God, I miss her. I miss my sister. She was so full of joy. She was such a wonderful girl. I loved her so much. That face shining and alive, so innocent and so fun. That was irreplaceable. Thanks for being my sister, Karen.” And this: “She led me to this tale and leads me in it. I try to hear her. I try to honor her, climbing to where I see her high above me. Where Karen is today is a lofty place. And I am listening as I climb. She is Legend. Maybe the whole Valhalla thing is true. Maybe our Viking blood carries it.” It might have made more sense to present this material in a diary format to more naturally mingle past and present, story and process. But even then, it would have required a firm editorial hand and a sharp pair of pruning shears.

A disorganized book about a horrible crime.