Even the casual consumer of cinematic creeps and crime-novel killers will tell you that if a child with an abusive parent likes to set fires and hurt animals, you're probably wise just to go ahead and reserve that kid a room at your local prison for the seriously twisted, because those are some common ingredients that go into creating serial killers.

Helen Morrison would disagree with you. But don't take it personally; she disagrees with just about everyone.

Morrison, who collects research on serial killers like some collect baseball stats, at least has the credentials to make herself credible. She has profiled more than 80 serial killers over the course of 25 years and has met personally and extensively with a number of them, including Ed Gein, the inspiration for Psycho, and John Wayne Gacy, who gave all killers in clown suits a bad name. She was and remains particularly close to Gacy, literally: His formaldehyde-soaked brain is in her basement.

In her dealings with serial killers and her visits to that basement, Morrison shows she has a strong stomach. This is a quality anyone would be well advised to have before venturing past page 12 or so, because the brutal and depraved come thick and fast here. Although she is a doctor, little is clinical or antiseptic about her descriptions of serial killers' deeds.

Her conclusions about serial killers contradict popular preconceptions.

"I have found that serial murders do not relate to others on any level that you would expect one person to relate to one another. They can play roles beautifully, create complex, earnest performances to which no Hollywood Oscar-winner could hold a candle. They can mimic anything. They can appear to be complete and whole human beings, and in some cases are seen to be pillars of society. But they're missing a very essential core of human relatedness. For them, killing is nothing, nothing at all. Serial killers have no emotional connection to their victims. That's probably the most chilling part of it. Not only do they not care, but they also have no ability to care."

Serial killers' lack of emotional connection is just one of a number of common characteristics. Morrison says many are hypochondriacs, have above-average IQs, rarely commit suicide, specialize in manipulation and think they're stars. She also thinks they are physiologically different from the rest of us, which suggests that serial killers, by definition, are not responsible for their acts.

Sometimes, Morrison even makes serial killers sound mildly sympathetic. In describing a Russian killer, she writes, "Of course, Andrei himself did not kill because he longed for a politically different time in the Soviet Union, when he could eat people without fearing that the authorities would crack down."

Occasionally, she is not sympathetic to her fellow medical professionals, the media or the police, often coming off as prickly and less than humble.

My Life Among the Serial Killers isn't the kind of compelling read that stays with you long after you've finished it. The combination of Morrison's numbing recitations of unspeakable acts and her egotistical style of writing detracts from the enjoyment, making it a book you may quickly forget.

Considering the nature of this topic, maybe that's not such a bad thing.

Daniel Danbom is a freelance writer living in Denver.