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Relentlessly probing the very edge of the human psyche as only he can, psychologist and New York Times bestselling author Stephen White ratchets up the thrills in BLINDED, a new novel of psychological suspense his most compelling and powerful yet.
Gibbs Storey is a woman no man can resist. When her comfortable life is shattered by the man she thought it was safe to give her heart to, the nightmare has only just begun. Psychologist Alan Gregory is used to dealing with nightmares. But a brutal, shocking confession locks him into darkness and forces him to choose between saving himself and saving those who will otherwise end their days pleading for mercy at the hands of a vicious serial killer. What Alan can't see is that either choice might cost him his life...
In riveting, explosive scenes that have become his hallmark, Stephen White delivers an unsettling and gripping story that penetrates to the heart of terror and transfixes readers like no one else can.
Murder, sex and guilt are all on the couch in bestseller White's latest (Cold Case; Manner of Death; etc.) featuring ongoing series hero Alan Gregory, a low-key sleuth/psychologist. As always, the author delivers an absorbing mystery, a mix of interesting subplots involving Gregory's sympathetic friends and family, and a paean to the beauty of the Colorado countryside. This time he splits the point of view equally between Gregory and Gregory's best friend, Boulder police detective Sam Purdey. Sam has just had a heart attack and is facing a dreaded rehabilitation regimen when his wife decides to leave him, perhaps permanently. Gregory has his own plateful of domestic difficulties caring for his MS-stricken wife and his toddler daughter while tending to a full caseload of clients who run the gamut from mildly neurotic to full-blown psychotic. An old patient he hasn't seen in a year, the beautiful Gibbs Storey, comes back for therapy and announces that her husband has murdered a former lover, and she's not sure what to do about it. And by the way, she thinks he may have murdered a bunch of other women as well. Gregory decides that, as a therapist, he cannot report the murders to the police, spending pages and pages justifying his decision. He turns to recuperating pal Sam, and the two of them separately follow various threads until all is resolved, just in the nick of time. White is known for his surprise endings, and this one is no exception. Aside from the repetitive and less than convincing ethical considerations, it's an engrossing addition to an excellent series. (Feb. 3) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
More Reviews and RecommendationsWriters often use elements of their own personalities to craft their most-enduring characters, and Stephen White has certain done so in creating fellow-clinical psychologist Dr. Alan Gregory. However, White’s electrifying series of crime thrillers aren’t likely to be mistaken for autobiographies anytime soon.
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May 24, 2005: I really enjoyed this book. The first book I read by this author I thought was all right, The Best Revenge, but this one was excellent though I did figure out the end.
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August 20, 2004: When Gibbs Storey confides to her former psychologist that she believes her husband is a serial killer, Dr. Alan Gregory is faced with the quandary of confidentiality as well as an impulse to get involved. His friend Sam, a police detective, becomes enmeshed as well. It doesn't hurt that Gibbs is an exceptionally beautiful woman. I also found her one of the most annoying characters in recent fiction, but never mind that - the two men, who already have family crises of their own, are drawn into a net of subterfuge and lies. Alan finds his office bugged, and clients' secrets being leaked to the public. Sam ends up on a cross-country odyssey in search of the killer. In the midst of all this, Gibbs' cooperation seems to waver. The book is fast-paced, with some unexpected hilarious one-liners. It's a refreshing change from Jonathan Kellerman's Dr. Delaware novels, which have a similar psychologist/detective pairing, but which have become increasingly dreary lately. A warning to those like me who read lots of thrillers - I must read too many of them, since I begin looking for the 'twist' at the start of the book - you may figure out the ending early on. I certainly guessed it, within the first couple of chapters! Nevertheless, the book is so well-written and readable, with such excellent characterization, that I highly recommend it.

Name:
Stephen White
Current Home:
Colorado
Date of Birth:
1951
Place of Birth:
Long Island, New York
Education:
B.A., UC Berkeley, 1972; M.A., University of Colorado, Boulder, 1975; Ph.D., 1979
Anyone who has ever tried his or her hand at writing has surely heard the sage advice "write what you know." Stephen White has most-assuredly taken that bit of wisdom to heart in creating his thrilling series of Alan Gregory novels. A clinical psychologist, White has crafted a character with a similar background that has also benefited from his fifteen years of professional practice.
White has been keeping fans of psychological thrillers on the edges of their seats ever since he published his first novel Privileged Information in 1991. The book introduced his literary alter ego Dr. Alan Gregory and made ample use of everything he'd gleaned while working as a practicing psychologist. "There are two benefits of my previous experience as a psychologist that I consider invaluable to my life as a writer," White revealed in an interview on his web site (www.authorstephenwhite.com). "The first is that my work gave me a chance to observe and study the infinite varieties of motivation that human beings have for their behavior. The other is that being a psychotherapist exposed me to dialogue in its purest form. For eight to ten hours a day over a period of fifteen years I had the privilege of sitting and listening to a wide variety of people just talk. I can't imagine a better training ground for writing dialogue."
As for how similar he truly is to his most-famous creation beyond their shared profession, White says, "The similarities don't exactly end there but there's no need to exaggerate them, either. Although neither of us is a model of mental health, his neuroses are different than mine. And he has advantages that I never had as a psychotherapist. First, he has the benefit of all my years of experience. And second, I get to think about his lines as long as I'd like. Real patients never offer that luxury." The resulting debut novel won rave reviews from the likes of The New York Daily News, Publisher's Weekly, and The Library Journal and established White as a writer to watch.
White followed Privileged Information with over a dozen additional installments of the Alan Gregory adventures. The latest may very well be the most exciting and psychologically provocative episode yet. In Kill Me, a happily-married extreme sports enthusiast and patient of Gregory's makes a deal with a clandestine organization called Death Angels Inc. that may very well bring his life to an untimely end. As always, Dr. Alan Gregory is present, but he plays more of a background role than he does in most of White's other novels. Still, fans of White's previous work will surely be captivated by the novel that Booklist has deemed "Bizarre, thrilling, and oh so much fun" and fellow bestselling writer Michael Connelly (Blood Work, The Closers) asserts is "his best yet."
In any event, White has no immediate plans of abandoning Gregory to write a non-series novel. "My series is commercially successful, thanks to all of you," he says. "As important for me as the commercial success is, the fact [is] that the series is also creatively flexible.... [I] anticipate staying with the series as long as the readers are interested..." If that's the case, then readers can expect the Dr. Alan Gregory to have a long and psychologically healthy life.
Contrary to the rumor mill, the Stephen White who created Alan Gregory is not the same Stephen White who has written a series of books about...ahem ... Barney the Purple Dinosaur. However, White admits that he has occasionally signed the other Stephen White's Barney books when asked to.
For those who are wondering what ever happened to the seemingly long-lost book Saints and Sinners, which was excerpted in Private Practices, you may have already read it without even realizing. Shortly before publication, the title Saints and Sinners was changed to Higher Authority. Some interesting outtakes from our interview with White:
"Jonathan Kellerman and I were colleagues in the early 1980's before either of us were novelists. At a time when our nascent field was very small, we were both psychologists specializing in the psychological aspects of childhood cancer. Jon was at Los Angeles Childrens Hospital. I was at The Children's Hospital in Denver."
"My brother is a better writer than I am."
"One of my first jobs was as a tour guide at Universal Studios. I lasted five weeks. That's two weeks longer than I lasted as a creative writing major during my freshman year at the University of California."
"I worked at Chez Panisse in Berkeley in 1971-72, running the upstairs café, waiting tables, and occasionally doing some cooking. Two of my bosses were Alice Waters and Jeremiah Tower. They both cook better than I write. Jeremiah actually writes better than I cook."
"I learned to fly an airplane before I learned to drive a car".
"I'm a lucky man. I've spent much of my adult life in two terrific, rewarding careers. In the first, as a clinical psychologist, I spent eight to twelve hours a day in a room with one other person. In the second, as a writer, I spend a similar number of hours a day in a room with no other person, though sometimes I'm blessed with the company of a dog or two."
"A primary difference between the two experiences? As a psychotherapist, only one other person -- my patient -- typically observed my work. Virtually no one ever critiqued it. As a novelist, literally millions of people observe my work, and most feel no compunction whatsoever about critiquing it. Being a writer is a lovely thing. But adapting to the reality of being read has been a constant source of wonder for me."
What was the book that most influenced your life or your career as a writer?
With rare exceptions, I'm not someone who looks back at life and sees transformational moments -- life for me has always been more about process than event. But I recall two separate epiphanies I felt while reading books.
The first occurred when I was a child, probably six or seven years old, when my father insisted that I had to read Jules Verne's Mysterious Island before he would permit me to watch something I desperately wanted to see on our family's new television. I still recall the wonder at Verne's ability to transport me to his reality.
The second reading epiphany took place much later in my life, as an adult, while I was reading John Fowles's The French Lieutenant's Woman. Prior to reading that book, I think I perceived novels as having an underlying form or architecture that was not malleable. But watching Fowles play with the novel form in a book that was -- and remains -- so alluring in story and character made a tremendous impact on me. I'm sure that some of the freedom that I feel to juggle structure, form, and time in the series I write has been inspired by Fowles.
What are your ten favorite books, and what makes them special to you?
How about ten quasi-contemporary novels that I admire for various reasons? If I were to go back prior to the mid-twentieth century or into non-fiction, it would be a whole different list.
In no particular order:
What did I leave off the list? In crime fiction alone, there's Gorky Park, The Magus, Presumed Innocent, Booked to Die, The Alienist, Free Reign, Word of Honor, Snow Falling on Cedars, The Horse Latitudes, The Devil's Teardrop, Mystic River, and many more. Oddly, although I've ignored non-fiction on the list, the book that I read over the past year that has stuck with me more than any other is Brian Greene's Elegant Universe. What an effort.
What are some of your favorite films, and what makes them unforgettable to you?
The second part of the question is much easier than the first. For a movie to be anything beyond entertainment (not that there's anything wrong with that) the writing must sing. For me, it's the "necessary" part of "necessary but not sufficient." The rest? What I love about film, as opposed to novels, is the collaborative nature of the creative process. When all the collaborators -- writers, director, actors, set directors, costumers, etc., etc. -- manage to make time stop for the ninety minutes that their work is on screen, the movie becomes enduring. Examples? Although I'm not much for "favorites," Chinatown, The Conversation, and the first two Godfather films come quickly to mind.
What types of music do you like? Is there any particular kind you like to listen to when you're writing?
I can't, or at least don't, listen to music while I'm writing. I find that it interferes with my concentration. The disruption I feel is more intense for vocal music than for instrumental music. I was, briefly, a music history major as an undergraduate at Berkeley, and I've gone through long love affairs with classical, jazz, and rock 'n roll. Lately, to my great surprise, I've even begun to identify some hip-hop I get along with just fine.
If you had a book club, what would it be reading?
The question has an inherent premise problem -- the thing is, I wouldn't have a book club. Why? Saying it sounds petulant but -- at the simplest level -- I've never liked to be told what to read. I think maybe it goes back to that Mysterious Island incident.
What are your favorite kinds of books to give -- and get -- as gifts?
This one is more about philosophy than about books. The perfect gift -- to receive or to give -- is something that the recipient would truly want but wouldn't think to get for himself or herself. To give a book as a gift I would need to know someone well enough to know not only what he or she would like, but also to be able to identify a literary direction or at least a new author that the reader might not have previously considered.
The nice thing about books is that the right choice is always out there. One of the immutable truths that keeps the publishing industry alive is that every reader is eager to discover a new favorite writer.
Do you have any special writing rituals? For example, what do you have on your desk when you're writing?
When I was writing my doctoral thesis, my dissertation chairman, Dr. Bernard Bloom, gave me some advice I've never forgotten. He said that the most important thing a writer does each day is put his butt in the chair.
The single most crucial ritual I have each day is simple: I sit down to write whether I feel like it or not. What is on my desk is irrelevant. Quiet is good. Interruptions are not ideal. But the key, for me, is not to permitting distractions to become excuses. When I intend to write, I write.
And, oh yes, I read Strunk and White's Elements of Style at least once a year. Sometimes twice.
What are you working on now?
I'm currently working on my fifteenth novel. Much more so than Kill Me it is a traditional series book. The series protagonist, Alan Gregory -- who plays a supportive role in Kill Me -- finds that his past, something that I've intentionally avoided in the earlier books, is catching up with him with destructive force.
Many writers are hardly "overnight success" stories. How long did it take for you to get where you are today? Any rejection-slip horror stories or inspirational anecdotes?
I consider myself to be an incredibly fortunate working writer. Early in my career an agent told me that in publishing, "you can make a million, but you can't make a living." One of the things I am most proud of is that I've managed to prove her wrong; I've written fifteen books, and I've been making a living as a novelist now for a dozen years. How cool is that?
In the beginning, a completed manuscript in hand, I spent a year of concerted effort in an attempt to interest an agent in representing that first book. I accumulated a cascade of rejections -- some kind, some rude -- but ultimately failed to find an agent willing to take me on. Instead, through the kindness of some friends of my oldest brother (thank you, Patty and Jeff) I ended up selling Privileged Information un-agented to Viking in 1990. Prior to that, the last un-agented novel purchased by Viking was Ordinary People in 1979. To the best of my knowledge, they haven't bought one since.
Did I say I consider myself lucky? I do.
If you could choose one new writer to be "discovered," who would it be?
I left Baine Kerr's, Wrongful Death, off the above list of favorite books because I looked ahead and saw this question coming. When I have doubts about how to make difficult concepts and distasteful topics interesting in contemporary fiction, I go back to this exquisite story by an attorney from Boulder. It is accomplished in so many ways. It has certainly not found the audience it deserves.
What tips or advice do you have for writers still looking to be discovered?
During the fifteen years I was a practicing psychologist. I grew wary of giving advice. Why? As a clinician, I was often in a position to offer a patient direction on how to cross some emotional mine field. Over the years I learned that if it turned out my counsel was faulty I wasn't the one of us who got blown up, psychologically speaking. With that caveat in place, here's my advice to aspiring writers: Don't look to be discovered. Do something to get read. Then do it again. And again.
What does that mean? Every day, put your butt in the chair and write the best stuff you can write. Nothing is more important. Once the writing is done each day, do something that will help you put your work into a reader's hands. You are not going to get two readers until you get one.
Very few writers ever get "discovered." Fewer still will get anointed. Very few. For the rest of us, success boils down to some difficult to decipher amalgam of craft and determination.
And a little luck. Luck is good.
Relentlessly probing the very edge of the human psyche as only he can, psychologist and New York Times bestselling author Stephen White ratchets up the thrills in BLINDED, a new novel of psychological suspense his most compelling and powerful yet.
Gibbs Storey is a woman no man can resist. When her comfortable life is shattered by the man she thought it was safe to give her heart to, the nightmare has only just begun. Psychologist Alan Gregory is used to dealing with nightmares. But a brutal, shocking confession locks him into darkness and forces him to choose between saving himself and saving those who will otherwise end their days pleading for mercy at the hands of a vicious serial killer. What Alan can't see is that either choice might cost him his life...
In riveting, explosive scenes that have become his hallmark, Stephen White delivers an unsettling and gripping story that penetrates to the heart of terror and transfixes readers like no one else can.
Murder, sex and guilt are all on the couch in bestseller White's latest (Cold Case; Manner of Death; etc.) featuring ongoing series hero Alan Gregory, a low-key sleuth/psychologist. As always, the author delivers an absorbing mystery, a mix of interesting subplots involving Gregory's sympathetic friends and family, and a paean to the beauty of the Colorado countryside. This time he splits the point of view equally between Gregory and Gregory's best friend, Boulder police detective Sam Purdey. Sam has just had a heart attack and is facing a dreaded rehabilitation regimen when his wife decides to leave him, perhaps permanently. Gregory has his own plateful of domestic difficulties caring for his MS-stricken wife and his toddler daughter while tending to a full caseload of clients who run the gamut from mildly neurotic to full-blown psychotic. An old patient he hasn't seen in a year, the beautiful Gibbs Storey, comes back for therapy and announces that her husband has murdered a former lover, and she's not sure what to do about it. And by the way, she thinks he may have murdered a bunch of other women as well. Gregory decides that, as a therapist, he cannot report the murders to the police, spending pages and pages justifying his decision. He turns to recuperating pal Sam, and the two of them separately follow various threads until all is resolved, just in the nick of time. White is known for his surprise endings, and this one is no exception. Aside from the repetitive and less than convincing ethical considerations, it's an engrossing addition to an excellent series. (Feb. 3) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
White's 12th mystery brings back Alan Gregory, a psychoanalyst in Boulder, CO. When a beautiful client tells him she suspects her husband of murder, he begins to investigate, only to be told that four more women have been killed and more corpses may turn up. Doctor-client confidentiality-a common theme in White's works-means that Gregory cannot tell his cop friend, Sam, anything, leaving only hints and instinct to guide him. The narrative alternates between the voice of Gregory, erudite, introspective, and thoughtful, and that of Sam, streetwise, practical, and self-deprecating. Using his own real-life experiences as a psychologist to portray clients and cases with sympathy and realism, White skillfully blends sexual tension, domestic strife, moments of humor, a variety of striking characters, and a tautly constructed plot. The book's literary allusions will delight readers; current fans will rejoice, and newcomers will certainly want to check out White's earlier works (e.g., Warning Signs). Highly recommended. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 10/1/03.]-Roland Person, formerly with Southern Illinois Univ. Lib., Carbondale Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Now that his patients, his friends, and his wife have all been suspected of murder, what's left for Boulder psychologist Alan Gregory (The Best Revenge, Feb. 2003, etc.)? An ex-patient whose wife wants to spill all confidentially without turning him in. Television producer Sterling Storey and his stunning wife Gibbs always enjoyed an adventurous sex life-so adventurous that Gibbs's brief mention of it years ago drove Sterling out of therapy and out to LA. But if Gibbs can be believed now that she's back on her own, Sterling's hunger for excitement wasn't limited to the occasional taboo-busting rendezvous with a stranger; he may well have strangled his Laguna Beach neighbor Louise Lake, a British flight attendant, six years ago. Even worse, Gibbs eventually confides in Alan, Louise may not have been Sterling's only victim, and he may be planning even more return engagements to his one-time flings. As Alan agonizes over what to do with this privileged information, his hand is forced when several confidences his other patients have vouchsafed-news that a District Court judge's husband is selling drugs, the identity of a mystery businesswoman who shut down Denver International Airport when she impatiently breached a security checkpoint to catch her plane-somehow leak from his office. Will Gibbs's secret be next? If so, Alan can't expect much help from his wife Lauren, whose MS has been suddenly exacerbated, or from his detective friend Sam Purdy, who's taken off for Georgia to check out an accident site from which Sterling disappeared, presumed dead by everybody but Sam and Alan and rangy Laguna Beach cop Carmen Reynoso. The stage is set for a breathtaking Thanksgiving climax. In order to setup the blood and thunder, though, White, who never stints on complications, has to crosscut among so many threats, subplots, and red herrings that you may forget to be thrilled. Agent: Lynn Nesbit/Janklow & Nesbit
Loading...Chapter One
Alan
Nine-fifteen on Monday morning. My second patient of the day.
Gibbs Storey hadn’t changed much in the ten years since I’d last seen her. If anything, she appeared to be even more of a model of physical perfection than she’d been in the mid-nineties. I guessed yoga, maybe Pilates. Her impeccable complexion hadn’t suddenly become pocked with acne or ravaged by psoriasis, nor had her high cheekbones dropped to mortal levels. Her blond hair was shorter but no less radiant, and her eyes were the same sky blue I remembered. The absence of any wrinkles radiating around them caused me to wonder about a recent Botox poke, but I quickly surmised that Gibbs’s fair skin would probably never be susceptible to the tracks of age. She’d be in possession of some magic gene, and she’d be immune.
She’d always had beauty karma. Along with popularity karma. And the ever-elusive charm karma.
She didn’t have marriage karma, though.
I’d first met Gibbs and her husband, Sterling, when they came to see my clinical psychology partner, Diane Estevez, and me for therapy for their troubled relationship. Diane and I saw them conjointly—a quaint, almost anachronistic therapeutic modality that involved pairing a couple of patients with a couple of therapists in the same room at the same time—for only three sessions. Ironically, with therapy fees being what they are and managed care being what it is, Diane and I hadn’t done a conjoint case together since that final session with Gibbs and Sterling Storey.
After they’d abruptly canceled their fourth sessionand departed Boulder—“Dr. Gregory, Sterling got that job he wanted in L.A.! Isn’t that wonderful!” Gibbs informed me breathlessly in the voicemail she’d left along with her profound thanks for how helpful we’d been—neither Diane nor I had heard a word from either of them. That was true, at least, until Gibbs called, said she was back in town, and asked me for an individual appointment.
Gibbs’s call requesting the individual appointment had come ten days before, on a Friday. My few free slots the following week didn’t meet any of her needs, so we’d settled on the Monday morning time. At the time she had accepted the week-and-a-half delay graciously.
In the interim between her call and her first appointment, I’d pulled her thin file from a box in the storage area that was stuffed with the records of old, inactive cases and examined my sparse notes. The few lines of intake and progress reports that I’d scrawled after the conjoint sessions told me less than did my memory, but I didn’t need copious notes to remind me that Diane and I hadn’t been all that helpful to Gibbs and Sterling.
Couples therapy is not individual therapy with two people. It is a whole different animal, more closely akin to group therapy with a radioactive dyad. Issues within couples aren’t subjected to the simple arithmetic of doubling; problems seem to be susceptible to the more severe forces of logarithmic multiplication. Therapeutic resistance in couples work, especially conjoint couples work, isn’t just the familiar dance between therapist and patient. Instead, a well-choreographed rou- tine between husband and wife takes place alongside every interaction between either client and either therapist. Each marital partner knows his or her steps like an experienced member of a ballroom dancing pair. She retreats as he aggresses. He surely demurs as she swoons.
A couples therapist needs to learn everyone’s moves before he or she can be maximally effective.
My memory of the Storeys’ conjoint treatment was that Diane and I had only just begun to recognize their peculiar tango when they terminated the therapy and moved to California.
The first conjoint session had been a typical “what brings you in for help” introductory. “Communication” was the buzzword of the day in the care and feeding of relationships, and that’s the culprit the Storeys identified as the reason they had entered into our care. Each maintained that they desired assistance “communicating” more effectively with the other. He was, perhaps, a little less certain than she of his motivation.
Neither Diane nor I had believed either of them. No, we didn’t entertain the possibility that they were out-and-out lying to us—at least I didn’t; I could never be a hundred percent certain about Diane—but rather we were waiting for them to approach the revelation that they might be lying to themselves, or to each other, about their reason for being in our offices. “Communication problems” was a socially acceptable entree to treatment—an acceptable thing to tell their friends.
But Diane and I weren’t at all convinced at the time that it was the reason we were seeing the Storeys.
“Hi, Dr. Gregory,” Gibbs said as she settled on the chair in my office for her first individual appointment. Her greeting wasn’t coy exactly, but it wasn’t not-coy exactly either. “Long time,” she added.
Her fine hair was pulled back into a petite ponytail. She smiled in a way that almost dared me not to notice how together she looked.
I nodded noncommittally. My practiced chin dip could have been measured in millimeters.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here,” she said.
Another microscopic nod on my part. Most days while doing my work as a psychologist, if I were paid by the word I’d go home a pauper. But Gibbs was right, I was wondering why she’d come back to see me after so many years. I had a guess—I was wagering that she’d divorced Sterling and had moved back to Boulder to start a new life. It was a scary journey for most people. Me? I was going to be the tour guide.
That was my guess.
“You remember Sterling? My husband?”
Husband? Okay, I was wrong. The Storeys were separated then, not divorced.
I spoke, but since it was Monday morning I failed to assemble a complete sentence. “Yes, of course” was all I said.
Gibbs raised her fingertips to her lips and leaned forward as though she were whispering a profanity and was afraid her grandmother would overhear. She said, “I think he murdered a friend of ours in Laguna Beach.”
Okay, I was wrong twice.
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