The Truth About Julia: A Chillingly Timely Psychological Novel Read Online Free Page B

produced this spawn of the devil?
    Julia’s life-story became the stuff of endless speculation, and the fact that she was beautiful and silent only fuelled the public’s interest further. I admit that I, too, was spellbound from the very start – my fascination consisted mainly of repulsion and horror, but also awe. I don’t mean that I was in any way condoning or admiring her horrendous act – of course not; I have seen the human cost of her ugly work. I think what I felt was a general kind of admiration for radical mindsets, for people who are not prepared to compromise, who have visions so strong they defend them with their lives, and who courageously dedicate their entire existence to ideas, regardless of the consequences. In our exhausted political landscape this species is almost extinct. Think about it: what forms of serious political activism are left today? Our streets are populated by swarms of twee retro-fetishists and bearded hipsters with ironic spectacles, who appear to believe that drinking flat whites in cafés that play ukulele music and buying chia seeds and black quinoa in wholefood shops are worthwhile political statements in their own right.
    I devoured every single article about Julia, and I had numerous discussions with Amanda about her that usually resulted in heated disagreements. Although I don’t deny the attraction of psychoanalytical explanatory models, I simply don’t believe that they can account for everything , as Amanda does. You, too, George, confessed to me once that you found Amanda’s views curiously limited, blind to all political and historical considerations. In addition, Amanda soon made it clear that she felt I had become unhealthily obsessed with Julia White – of course she had many a theory up her sleeve to explain why Julia appealed to me so, and what she appealed to in me, but I refused to listen. Maybe, with hindsight, I should have.
    Then I decided to transform my obsession into something productive. It made complete sense: I would write Julia White’s biography. I would try to unravel the mystery of her strange allure and at the same time turn my research into a much-needed new book. For the first time since the trial, I felt strong enough to tackle a serious project. I didn’t even need to convince you. This was the first project since the accursed trial that wasn’t just a bread-and-butter job, which you had kindly pushed my way and that came with an acceptable cheque that would go towards paying off my debts. The biography was my chance to shake off my sense of failure, the conviction that I was a sell-out. I had been producing nothing but shallow entertainment porn since 2010, and you can’t imagine how much that hurt. I used to live and breathe for my work – it meant everything to me. It was all I had. I’m sorry, George – I am of course infinitely grateful for every job you sent my way, and I am acutely aware that you reserved the most lucrative commissions for me, but they did inevitably also tend to be the most facile ones. I had been living like a ghost for the past four years; I felt so hollow.
    The generous advance you negotiated for me was of course also more than welcome – my finances were (and still are) a mess so horrific to behold that I had left the task to a trusted financial adviser, who fed me only manageable nuggets of information when she felt I was able to cope. The last I had heard from her was that it would take me at least fifteen years to clear my debt – provided the commercial commissions kept coming in regularly.
    I admit that I was also attracted by the challenge. It was clear that I had to research and write the book as quickly as possible, as other publishers would want to cash in on the Julia hype, too. It was a race both against time and against the competition – whoever got their book out first would win the lion’s share of the potentially vast number of readers interested in Julia’s story. I had set myself the