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A review by bunnieslikediamonds
The Devil You Know: A Novel by Elisabeth de Mariaffi
4.0
This Canadian thriller about a young journalist who has good reason to become obsessed with some current and past murders in Toronto doesn't give you pleasurable shivers up your spine. It's much too disturbing, and all too real. The author perfectly captures the feeling most women have felt at some point: the fear of a man assaulting you.
It awoke some forgotten memories, things too trivial to think about because I've been lucky. Like the time I was about five and adults were freaking out about a naked guy driving around trying to pick up little girls in our town. The times guys at school would grab your ass and it wasn't supposed to be a big deal, and the teachers didn't care. The times I've declined to fuck total strangers who then called me a whore. I remembered the creepy guy who approached me on the subway late at night, and how I could tell he saw that I was scared and how much he enjoyed it. I also remembered how another man came to my defense and escorted me from the station, only to then try to kiss me. And these are just the occasions that popped to mind. You get used to it being part of your everyday life: the constant vigilance, the need to protect yourself, to not be stupid and put yourself in harm's way, to not invite the creeps in by being too hostile, or too friendly, or too assertive but also not too cautious.
Every woman I've ever talked to about this knows exactly what I mean. Men are incredulous, tell you you're exaggerating and imagining things and being paranoid. These men should read The Devil You Know.
Oh, and the book was great .
It awoke some forgotten memories, things too trivial to think about because I've been lucky. Like the time I was about five and adults were freaking out about a naked guy driving around trying to pick up little girls in our town. The times guys at school would grab your ass and it wasn't supposed to be a big deal, and the teachers didn't care. The times I've declined to fuck total strangers who then called me a whore. I remembered the creepy guy who approached me on the subway late at night, and how I could tell he saw that I was scared and how much he enjoyed it. I also remembered how another man came to my defense and escorted me from the station, only to then try to kiss me. And these are just the occasions that popped to mind. You get used to it being part of your everyday life: the constant vigilance, the need to protect yourself, to not be stupid and put yourself in harm's way, to not invite the creeps in by being too hostile, or too friendly, or too assertive but also not too cautious.
Every woman I've ever talked to about this knows exactly what I mean. Men are incredulous, tell you you're exaggerating and imagining things and being paranoid. These men should read The Devil You Know.
Oh, and the book was great .