Daniel Amber. Successful CTO. He dresses well. He speaks well. And yet… something’s amiss. A shadow resides, seemingly permanently, behind those eyes. Is it melancholy? Is it loneliness? Or is it something else?

This tapestry of beautiful language, focusing on a protagonist with title so reviled, so despised, that a hundred murderers or despots would come first if graded by the average citizen; the pedophile is in a league of his own, truly and wholly dehumanized, even now, for some abstract sentiment that surpasses reason.

And yet, where is the humanity? For what unique opportunity at the crux of all that is empathy to understand what one may suffer, reviled as such by all including oneself, despite being absolutely driven by true conscience – for the presence of proclivity does not necessitate the absence of one, no matter how abominous that proclivity may be.

This novel does not promote or condone any form of abuse.

No portion of The Pedophile is AI generated or edited, from the content to the cover.