Hannibal Rising is not the "scare fest" I expected it to be. Not like the other Hannibal books at all really. I found I could not put it down though.My interest in starting the book was to learn why Hannibal became "the monster". My attention to finish the book was because of the description of the times, the love for his sister, the remorse and angst, the intrigue.And then I cried. “The little boy Hannibal died in 1945 out there in the snow trying to save his sister. His heart died with Mischa. What is he now? There is not a word for it yet. For lack of a better word, we’ll call him a monster.” - Hannibal Rising, p. 243 I don't mean a small shed tear, like one would spill if they'd just READ something sad. I mean full on gails, that made me put the book away for a moment to gather myself. At that moment, my heart truely ached for the boy Hannibal, I grieved for and with him.The evoking of emotion is a neccessity for good writing. In my opinion this book is just that. GOOD WRITING.