How to put a method, a structure in madness? ”Since I’d be first to cast a stone at a murderer—I am one after all—I venture on writing these truthful chronicles as a study of human suffering,” writes a serial-killer, in a story of self-discovery gone amok. JUNG’S DEMON is a book as hallucinogenic as Hunter S. Thompson and as powerful as Oscar Zeta Acosta. It is as tragic as Malcolm Lowry and occasionally as funny as David Foster Wallace. "The murders Roman L. had committed with such a ferocious, savage intensity send shivers down my spine every time I reflect on his brutally honest confessions. He writes about “sinking into the terrifying Hell of my own soul, a cold, utter darkness of the scariest, most painful insanity that peels off your skin while your brain screams, crushed by madness.” Even now as I copy his words here, I shake as I furtively look around. And I am afraid. I dread, no matter how irrationally, that I somehow might meet him or one of his scary personalities anew, and, like I was once before in Paris, again be tricked into liking him by his disarming, almost child-like smile and by his mirthful laughter that hid both the frightened child in him and the terrifying, heartless monster sneering behind. This book contains his chronicles. His harrowing descent into Hell.” Think Kafka on acid and sprinkle some humor over it; that's JUNG'S DEMON. “What if I should discover that I myself am the enemy who must be loved? What then?” Carl Gustav Jung