Intensity

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Overview

Chyna Shepherd is a twenty-six-year-old woman whose deeply troubled childhood taught her the hard rules of survival, and whose adult life has been an unrelenting struggle for self-respect and safety. Now rare trust has blossomed for Chyna into friendship with the woman whose family home she is visiting for the weekend: a farm in the Napa Valley surrounded by vineyards and hills, which Chyna can see from the guest-room window where she sits at one o'clock in the morning, fully dressed, unable to sleep. Suspicions ...
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Intensity

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Overview

Chyna Shepherd is a twenty-six-year-old woman whose deeply troubled childhood taught her the hard rules of survival, and whose adult life has been an unrelenting struggle for self-respect and safety. Now rare trust has blossomed for Chyna into friendship with the woman whose family home she is visiting for the weekend: a farm in the Napa Valley surrounded by vineyards and hills, which Chyna can see from the guest-room window where she sits at one o'clock in the morning, fully dressed, unable to sleep. Suspicions she learned in childhood still make her uneasy in unfamiliar houses - even this one, where her closest friend is sound asleep down the hall. And in this case her most disturbing instincts prove reliable. A man has entered the house, a man who lives for one purpose: to satisfy all appetites as they arise, to immerse himself in sensation, to live without fear, remorse, or limits - to live with intensity. His name is Edgler Foreman Vess. He likes to make words from the letters of his name - God, Demon, Save, Rage, Anger, Fear, Forever, are just a few of them - and then make sentences of the words. One of his favorites, God Fears Me, is sometimes the last thing he whispers to his victims. Edgler Vess is a self-proclaimed "homicidal adventurer": On this night, his adventure - murdering everyone in the house - becomes Chyna's long nightmare. Trapped in Vess's deadly orbit, Chyna thinks only of getting out alive. But when she inadvertently learns the identity of Vess's intended next victim, waiting for him far from the Napa Valley, Chyna is gripped by concern for this other person, who is as innocent as Chyna, and as endangered. Driven now by a sense of responsibility for another, by a purpose and meaning beyond mere self-preservation, Chyna rises to unexpected heights of courage and daring - her only hope as the threat of Edgler Foreman Vess closes in and grows more horrifying moment by moment.

In the space of 24 hours, self-proclaimed "homicidal adventurer" Edgar Foreman Vess sets out to murder everyone in the home of Chyna Shepherd. But a drive even stronger than survival spurs Chyna to unexpected heights of courage and daring, thrusting her into a deadly confrontation with a remorseless, relentless killing machine. Knopf.

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Editorial Reviews

Pixel Planet
I found Intensity to be the best book that Koontz has written in quite some time. Great characters, great writing and a non-stop plot.
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Koontz's career has mirrored Stephen King's to a remarkable degree-the early pseudonymous novels, the bloated blockbusters, the increased use of horror as social commentary-albeit at a lag. Keeping step, this uncommonly sleek work is nothing less than Koontz's Gerald's Game: a distillation of what's come before and a slick play to regain the top by a writer whose popularity seemed to have peaked. Koontz even makes the centerpiece of Chyna Shepherd's battle against a serial killer her attempt to free herself from the restraints that bind her to a piece of furniture-the very same challenge faced by King's heroine. And just as Gerald's Game reinvigorated King's career and writing, this masterful, if ultimately predictable, exercise in high tension should do the same for Koontz's. This is basically a two-character novel, and both principals are compelling: the spirited Chyna, a youngish psychology student, and her nemesis, homicidal maniac Edgler Vess, who revels in sensation, be it pain or pleasure-in the intensity of experience. The two link when Vess kills Chyna's best friend as Chyna hides under a bed. Chyna pursues Vess but is eventually captured by him, after which she must combat not only those cuffs but also Vess's killer dogs, Vess himself and, of course, her own terror. For once, Koontz tamps down on his usual libertarian soapboxing to let the story race-which it does fast enough to give readers whiplash as they hold on to what may end up being the most viscerally exciting thriller of the year. 600,000 first printing; Literary Guild main selection. (Jan.)
Library Journal
Best-selling horror writer Koontz tries his hand at suspense in this tale of a woman who battles a homicidal maniac.
Ray Olson
Leopards can change their spots. Witness Dean Koontz. Long a reliable best-seller, he also was always a less than accomplished wordsmith. His thrillers, grabby though they were, were loaded with flat prose, flatter characters, and the flattest ideas--the book equivalents of movies starring such second-string Slys and Arnolds as Chuck Norris and Steven Seagal. Then he switched publishers and out have come "Dark Rivers of the Heart" (1994) and now this pulse pounder about a homey weekend gone 'way bad. Chyna Shepherd--child of a gorgeous slut who, on account of her taste for sociopaths as boyfriends, exposed the girl to plenty of mayhem until she fled Mom at age 16--goes for a pleasant Napa Valley weekend visiting the vintner parents of her best college friend, only to become the covert witness to the family's murder at the hands of thrill-addicted serial (and mass) murderer Edgler Foreman Vess. Hardened by her childhood against even this loathsome violence, Chyna determines to keep on the killer's trail until she can bring him to justice or exact it herself. Although it cops from Harris' "Silence of the Lambs", Strieber's "Billy", and Thompson's "Killer inside Me", "Intensity" is tightly written and free of cliches, thus a real advance over virtually everything else, including the politically engaged "Dark Rivers", that Koontz has written. Maybe that's what good editing has done.
From the Publisher
“Chills the reader to the core and establishes Koontz as a master.”—Associated Press
 
“A taut, nerve-tingling thriller from page one.”—The Christian Science Monitor
 
“Tumbling, hallucinogenic prose . . . The story does not move so much as rocket up the . . . gloomy highway with the reader in violent pursuit.”—The New York Times
 
“The most viscerally exciting thriller of the year.”—Publishers Weekly
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780783816784
  • Publisher: Cengage Gale
  • Publication date: 1/1/1996
  • Pages: 752
  • Product dimensions: 6.20 (w) x 9.20 (h) x 0.98 (d)

Meet the Author

Dean Koontz, the author of many #1 New York Times bestsellers, lives in Southern California with his wife, Gerda, their golden retriever, Anna, and the enduring spirit of their golden, Trixie.

Biography

He is one of the most recognized, read, and loved suspense writers of the 20th century. His imagination is a veritable factory of nightmares, conjuring twisted tales of psychological complexity. He even has a fan in Stephen King. For decades, Dean Koontz's name has been synonymous with terror, and his novels never fail to quicken the pulse and set hearts pounding.

Koontz has a lifelong love of writing that led him to spend much of his free time as an adult furiously cultivating his style and voice. However, it was only after his wife Gerda made him an offer he couldn't refuse while he was teaching English at a high school outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, that he had a real opportunity to make a living with his avocation. Gerda agreed to support Dean for five years, during which time he could try to get his writing career off the ground. Little did she know that by the end of that five years she would be leaving her own job to handle the financial end of her husband's massively successful writing career.

Koontz first burst into the literary world with 1970's Beastchild, a science fiction novel that appealed to genre fans with its descriptions of aliens and otherworldly wars but also mined deeper themes of friendship and the breakdown of communication. Although it is not usually ranked among his classics, Beastchild provided the first inkling of Koontz's talent for populating even the most fantastical tale with fully human characters. Even at his goriest or most terrifying, he always allows room for redemption.

This complexity is what makes Koontz's work so popular with readers. He has a true gift for tempering horror with humanity, grotesqueries with lyricism. He also has a knack for genre-hopping, inventing Hitchcockian romantic mysteries, crime dramas, supernatural thrillers, science fiction, and psychological suspense with equal deftness and imagination. Perhaps The Times (London) puts it best: "Dean Koontz is not just a master of our darkest dreams, but also a literary juggler."

Good To Know

Shortly after graduating from college, Koontz took a job with the Appalachian Poverty Program where he would tutor and counsel underprivileged kids. However, after finding out that the last person who held his job had been beaten up and hospitalized by some of these kids, Koontz was more motivated than ever to get his writing career going.

When Koontz was a senior in college, he won the Atlantic Monthly fiction competition.

Koontz and Kevin Anderson's novel Frankenstein: The Prodigal Son was slotted to become a television series produced by Martin Scorsese. However, when the pilot failed to sell, the USA Network aired it as a TV movie in 2004. By that time Koontz had removed his name from the project.

Some fun and fascinating outtakes from our interview with Koontz:

"My wife, Gerda, and I took seven years of private ballroom dancing lessons, twice a week, ninety minutes each time. After we had gotten good at everything from swing to the foxtrot, we not only stopped taking lessons, but also stopped going dancing. Learning had been great fun; but for both of us, going out for an evening of dancing proved far less exhilarating than the learning. We both have a low boredom threshold. Now we dance at a wedding or other celebration perhaps once a year, and we're creaky."

"On my desk is a photograph given to me by my mother after Gerda and I were engaged to be married. It shows 23 children at a birthday party. It is neither my party nor Gerda's. I am three years old, going on four. Gerda is three. In that crowd of kids, we are sitting directly across a table from each other. I'm grinning, as if I already know she's my destiny, and Gerda has a serious expression, as if she's worried that I might be her destiny. We never met again until I was a senior in high school and she was a junior. We've been trying to make up for that lost time ever since.

"Gerda and I worked so much for the first two decades of our marriage that we never took a real vacation until our twentieth wedding anniversary. Then we went on a cruise, booking a first-class suite, sparing no expense. For more than half the cruise, the ship was caught in a hurricane. The open decks were closed because waves would have washed passengers overboard. About 90% of the passengers spent day after day in their cabins, projectile vomiting. We discovered that neither of us gets seasick. We had the showrooms, the casino, and the buffets virtually to ourselves. Because the crew had no one to serve, our service was exemplary. The ship dared not try to put into the scheduled ports; it was safer on the open sea. The big windows of the main bar presented a spectacular view of massive waves and lightning strikes that stabbed the sea by the score. Very romantic. We had a grand time.

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    1. Also Known As:
      David Axton, Brian Coffey, K.R. Dwyer, Deanna Dwyer, John Hill, Leigh Nichols, Anthony North, Richard Paige, Owen West, Aaron Wolfe
    2. Hometown:
      Newport Beach, California
    1. Date of Birth:
      July 9, 1945
    2. Place of Birth:
      Everett, Pennsylvania
    1. Education:
      B.S. (major in English), Shippensburg University, 1966
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

Chyna Shepherd could not sleep comfortably in strange houses. Throughout her childhood and adolescence, her mother had dragged her from one end of the country to the other, staying nowhere longer than a month or two. So many terrible things had happened to them in so many places that Chyna eventually learned to view each new house not as a new beginning, not with hope for stability and happiness, but with suspicion and quiet dread.

Now she was long rid of her troubled mother and free to stay only where she wished. These days, her life was almost as stable as that of a cloistered nun, as meticulously planned as any bomb squad's procedures for disarming an explosive device, and without any of the turmoil on which her mother had thrived.

Nevertheless, this first night at the Templetons' house, Chyna was reluctant to undress and go to bed. She sat in the darkness in a medallion-back armchair at one of the two windows in the guest room, gazing out at the moonlit vineyards, fields, and hills of the Napa Valley.

Laura was in another room, at the far end of the second-floor hall, no doubt sound asleep, at peace because this house was not at all strange to her.
From the guest-room window, the early-spring vineyards were barely visible. Vague geometric patterns.

Beyond the cultivated rows were gentle hills mantled in long dry grass, silver in the moonlight. An inconstant breeze stirred through the valley, and sometimes the wild grass seemed to roll like ocean waves across the slopes, softly aglimmer with lambent lunar light.

Above the hills was the Coast Range, and above those peaks were cascades of stars and a full white moon. Storm clouds coming across themountains from the northwest would soon darken the night, turning the silver hills first to pewter and then to blackest iron.

When she heard the first scream, Chyna was gazing at the stars, drawn by their cold light as she had been since childhood, fascinated by the thought of distant worlds that might be barren and clean, free of pestilence. At first the muffled cry seemed to be only a memory, a fragment of a shrill argument from another strange house in the past, echoing across time. Often, as a child, eager to hide from her mother and her mother's friends when they were drunk or high, she climbed onto porch roofs or into backyard trees, slipped through windows onto fire escapes, away to secret places far from the fray, where she could study the stars and where voices raised in argument or sexual excitement or shrill drug-induced giddiness came to her as though from out of a radio, from faraway places and people who had no connection whatsoever with her life.

The second cry, although brief and only slightly louder than the first, was indisputably of the moment, not a memory, and Chyna sat forward in her chair. Tense. Head cocked. Listening.

She wanted to believe that the voice had come from outside, so she continued to stare into the night, surveying the vineyards and the hills beyond. Breeze-driven waves swelled through the dry grass on the moon-washed slopes: a water mirage like the ghost tides of an ancient sea.

From elsewhere in the house came a soft thump, as though a heavy object had fallen to a carpeted floor.

Chyna immediately rose from the chair and stood utterly still, expectant.

Trouble often followed voices raised in one kind of passion or another. Sometimes, however, the worst offenses were proceeded by calculated silences and stealth.

She had difficulty reconciling the idea of domestic violence with Paul and Sarah Templeton, who had seemed as kind and loving toward each other as toward their daughter. Nevertheless, appearances and realities were seldom the same, and the human talent for deception was far greater than that of the chameleon, the mockingbird, or the praying mantis, which masked its ferocious cannibalism with a serene and devout posture.

Following the stifled cries and the soft thump, silence sifted down like a snowfall. The hush was eerily deep, as unnatural as that in which the deaf lived. This was the stillness before the pounce, the quietude of the coiled snake.

In another part of the house, someone was standing as motionless as she herself was standing, as alert as she was, intently listening. Someone dangerous. She could sense the predatory presence, a subtle new pressure in the air, not dissimilar to that preceding a violent thunderstorm.

On one level, six years of psychology classes caused her to question her immediate fearful interpretation of those night sounds, which conceivably could be insignificant, after all. Any well-trained psycho-analyst would have a wealth of labels to pin on someone who leaped first to a negative conclusion, who lived in expectation of sudden violence.

But she had to trust her instinct. It had been honed by many years of hard experience.

Intuitively certain that safety lay in movement, she stepped quietly away from the chair at the window, toward the hall door. In spite of the moonglow, her eyes had adjusted to darkness during the two hours that she had sat in the lightless room, and now she eased through the gloom with no fear of blundering into furniture.

She was only halfway to the door when she heard approaching footsteps in the second-floor hall. The heavy, urgent tread was alien to this house.

Unhampered by the interminable second-guessing that accompanied an education in psychology, reverting to the intuition and defenses of childhood, Chyna quickly retreated to the bed. She dropped to her knees.

Farther along the hall, the footsteps stopped. A door opened.

She was aware of the absurdity of attributing rage to the mere opening of a door. The rattle of the knob being turned, the rasp of the unsecured latch, the spike-sharp squeak of an unoiled hinge—they were only sounds, neither meek nor furious, guilty nor innocent, and could have been made as easily by a priest as by a burglar. Yet she knew that rage was at work in the night.

Flat on her stomach, she wriggled under the bed, feet toward the headboard. It was a graceful piece of furniture with sturdy gable legs, and fortunately it didn't sit as close to the floor as did most beds. One inch less of clearance would have prevented her from hiding under it.

Footsteps sounded in the hall again.

Another door opened. The guest-room door. Directly opposite the foot of the bed.

Someone switched on the lights.

Chyna lay with her head turned to one side, her right ear pressed to the carpet. Staring out from under the footboard, she could see a man's black boots and the legs of his blue jeans below mid-calf.

He stood just inside the threshold, evidently surveying the room. He would see a bed still neatly made at one o'clock in the morning, with four decorative needlepoint pillows arranged against the headboard.

She had left nothing on the nightstands. No clothes tossed on chairs. The paperback novel that she had brought with her for bedtime reading was in a bureau drawer.

She preferred spaces that were clean and uncluttered to the point of monastic sterility. Her preference might now save her life.

Again a faint doubt, the acquired propensity for self-analysis that plagued all psychology students, flickered through her. If the man in the doorway was someone with a right to be in the house—Paul Templeton or Laura's brother, Jack, who lived with his wife in the vineyard manager's bungalow elsewhere on the property—and if some crisis was unfolding that explained why he would burst into her room without knocking, she was going to appear to be a prime fool, if not a hysteric, when she crawled out from under the bed.

Then, directly in front of the black boots, a fat red droplet—another, then a third—fell to the wheat-gold carpet. Plop-plop-plop. Blood. The first two soaked into the thick nylon pile. The third held its surface tension, shimmering like a ruby.

Chyna knew the blood wasn't that of the intruder. She tried not to think about the sharp instrument from which it might have fallen.

He moved off to her right, deeper into the room, and she rolled her eyes to follow him. The bed had carved side rails into which the spread was tightly tucked. No overhanging fabric obstructed her view of his boots.

Obversely, without a spread draped to the floor, the space under the bed was more visible to him. From certain angles, he might even be able to look down and see a swatch of her blue jeans, the toe of one of her Rockports, the cranberry-red sleeve of her cotton sweater where it stretched over her bent elbow.

She was thankful that the bed was queen-size, offering more cover than a single or double.

If he was breathing hard, either with excitement or with the rage that she had sensed in his approach, Chyna couldn't hear him. With one ear pressed tightly to the plush carpet, she was half deaf. Wood slats and box springs weighed on her back, and her chest barely had room to expand to accommodate her own shallow, cautious, open-mouth inhalations. The hammering of her compressed heart against her breastbone echoed tympanically within her, and it seemed to fill the claustrophobic confines of her hiding place to such an extent that the intruder was certain to hear.

He went to the bathroom, pushed open the door, and flicked on the lights.

She had put away all her toiletries in the medicine cabinet. Even her toothbrush. Nothing lay out that might alert him to her presence.

But was the sink dry?

On retiring to her room at eleven o'clock, she had used the toilet and then had washed her hands. That was two hours ago. Any residual water in the bowl surely would have drained away or evaporated.

Lemon-scented liquid soap was provided in a pump dispenser at the sink. Fortunately, there was no damp bar of soap to betray her.

She worried about the hand towel. She doubted that it could still be damp two hours after the little use she had made of it. Nonetheless, in spite of a propensity for neatness and order, she might have left it hanging ever so slightly askew or with one telltale wrinkle.

He seemed to stand in the bathroom threshold for an eternity. Then he switched off the fluorescent light and returned to the bedroom.

Occasionally, as a little girl—and then not so little—Chyna had taken refuge under beds. Sometimes they looked for her there; sometimes, though it was the most obvious of all hidey-holes, they never thought to look. Of those who found her, a few had checked under the bed first—but most had left it for last.

Another red droplet fell to the carpet, as though the beast might be shedding slow tears of blood.

He moved toward the closet door.

Chyna had to turn her head slightly, straining her neck, to keep track of him.

The closet was deep, a walk-in with a chain-pull light in the center. She heard the distinctive snap of the tugged switch, then the clinking of the metal beads in the chain as they rattled against the light bulb.

The Templetons stored their own luggage at the back of that closet. Stacked with the other suitcases, Chyna's single bag and train case were not obviously those of a guest in residence.

She had brought several changes of clothes: two dresses, two skirts, another pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, a leather jacket. Because Chyna was the same size as Laura, the intruder might conclude that the few garments on the rod were just spillovers from the packed closet in Laura's room rather than evidence of a houseguest.

If he had been in Laura's bedroom, however, and had seen the condition of her closet—then what had happened to Laura?

She must not think about that. Not now. Not yet. For the moment, she needed to focus all her thoughts, all her wits, on staying alive.


From the Audio Cassette edition.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 325 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(224)

4 Star

(57)

3 Star

(28)

2 Star

(8)

1 Star

(8)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 325 Customer Reviews
  • Posted February 25, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    A great book

    (Originally written November 21, 2005)

    As I mentioned when I reviewed "By the Light of the Moon," I have long been a fan of Dean R. Koontz. I often like his work even better than Stephen King's. The only drawback is that once you've read a few of his books, you soon realize that the majority of his male and female main characters are the same: A man with a sad background; a woman with a terrible background; they find one another in this crazy world; etc.

    But in "Intensity," although we still get the same woman with a terrible background (and MAN, does Koontz know how to come up with HORRIBLE afflictions for these poor young women!), we are spared her male counterpart. And so I was able to REALLY get into the story this time.

    And what a story! It's the ultimate being in the wrong place at the wrong time tale, with a young lady named Chyna staying with a friend on the very same night a psychotic killer arrives to murder the entire family!

    What follows is one tense situation after another; the book is aptly named. I don't want to give too much away, but if you enjoy being on the edge of your seat, this book is perfect! Koontz also does some interesting tricks with the past and present tense telling of the story. The only books I have read with anything like it would be King's "The Cycle of the Werewolf," though the tense only changed once in that book, and Christopher Andrews' "Pandora's Game," which played similar tricks with the POV. Koontz's technique was effective and creepy.

    The ONLY thing that prevents me from giving this book a 5 star rating (and believe me, it was close) was that there is an "element" (again, I don't want to give too much away) to the psychotic killer that I think was hinted at a little too early. It is revealed near the end, and I'm pretty sure that it was SUPPOSED to be a huge surprise. But I became suspicious of it about 1/3 through the book, and convinced I was right about ½ through the book. I kept hoping I would either be wrong, or that the "secret" would be revealed earlier and not be so much of the climax. But ... not to be.

    But again, "Intensity" IS a great novel. And I recommend it strongly to anyone who enjoys thrillers! 4-1/2 stars!

    6 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 5, 2005

    Koontz' Best Yet!!!

    I was on the edge of my seat almost the entire time! Mr. Koontz had me guessing what would happen until the very end. Whether you're a Koontz fan or not, this is a must read! Bravo!!!

    5 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 1, 2006

    Probably my favorite book ever

    This book is absolutely amazing. I liked that this Koontz book wasn't all supernatural and not real. This one goes into the mind of the heroine, Chyna, and the mind of a brutal serial killer who puts on a sane and charming face to the rest of the world. Intensity is right! I saw this as a made for tv movie in 1997 (as a 7th grader) and thought it amazing and I went out and got the book. I Just stumbled across it now looking for other books by Koontz and wanted to add my 2 cents. I LOVE this book and I highly highly highly recommend it!

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted January 23, 2011

    Awesome - Scared me to death.

    I was immediately drawn into this book and the intensity of the drama that ghas written. Reading this right before bed wasn't my best decision.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted January 30, 2011

    Heartstopping.

    Every woman's worst nightmare. Slept with the lights on.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted January 18, 2011

    First time reading Dean Koontz and it was great!

    What an "intense" book....I had a hard time putting this book down...suspenseful, thrilling, frustrating, great read!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 8, 2009

    I Also Recommend:

    This is AMAZING!!!

    I am a junior at Holt High School and I have chosen to read the book Intensity by Dean Koontz. This book was recommended to me by a friend. Action and suspense are the only words needed to describe this book. This book is amazing. Koontz does a good job of building up suspense and making the reader visualize exactly what's going on.
    Chyna Shepherd and the Templeton family are in for a huge experience. The "homicidal adventurer" Edgler Vess is on the lose, and the next target is the Templetons. Chyna finds herself trying to save a girl, who might not even exist. But first she needs to save herself. The book raises the questions: Do I save my self before others? Do I give up on another life? Chyna has to make up her mind quickly or she might fall the next victim to Edgler Vess and his sociopathic life style.
    If you like murder, suspense, and a book full of twists then Intensity is the book for you. If this book happens to get your attention, then Demon Seed by Dean Koontz would also be another good book for you.
    I personally give this book 4½ out of 5 easily. This book keeps you interested and builds the suspense for anything that happens next.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 24, 2006

    A reviewer

    Out of the hundreds of books Ive read, this is by far the best one yet. This book turned me in to an avid Dean Koontz fan. Any book i read now, no matter who the author is, seems to lack that certain somthing that DK has in this book. Ive lost count of how many times ive read it.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 3, 2012

    Not bad.

    This was an alright book. There were times when I skipped pages because I quite frankly did not care about Chyna's back story. The 50 pages of dealing with the dogs were painful. Good story but it certainly didn't scare me.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 26, 2011

    Excellent!

    I read this book and it was truly spectacular! Really great suspense and detail. I am looking for any more good koontz books. Any advice?

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted January 31, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Superb! Excellent from page 1 to the end.

    I totally enjoyed Dean Koontz' Intensity. It was a very exciting book that kept a strong pace from beginning to end. It kept me turning pages long into the night. It took me two sittings to finish. I truly had fun reading this book and was enthralled with the characters and the inner secrets that were revealed about them. I sure hope you'll give it a read, you won't be sorry.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted January 2, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Intensity is an apt title for this book!

    Koontz is a master at keeping you turning the page. This intense read will keep you glued to the story until you reach the end.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted February 23, 2010

    WOW!

    I am a fan of Koontz and I have to say that this is one of my favorites. It hooked me in the first couple of chapters. I felt as if I was involved in the story the entire time I was reading it. I think anyone that picks this books up will enjoy the thrill ride.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 24, 2010

    one of the best dean

    this is one of the best dean koontz books i have read

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 28, 2009

    Intense Definitely!

    I'm not into scary books, but this particular one had me by the end of chapter one. I feel like Dean Koontz puts you in the mind of the victim and the serial killer. You catch yourself yelling aloud at the victim "What are you doing, stupid!" she's got some balls. Then the weirdo psycho! you wonder how he is able to live in society without people knowing how he is. Could this really be your neighbor who you know and trust?! I could not put this book down for anything, 2..3..4 o'clock in the morning! It was so intense, and I got so scared I would leave my hotel lights on. (That's how good it is) not scary enough for nightmares. I recommend this book to every and anyone who asks me what my favorite book is! I'll never get that story out of my head. Dean Koontz is fantastic!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 22, 2009

    A Great Ride!

    I loved this book! It kept my attention and kept me guessing.
    The ending was a little far fetched, but still a great read!

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted May 14, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    My first DK book and loved it!!!

    This book was recommended by a friend of mine and altho I loved it bc the suspense was awesome, the writing technique was way too much details bothered me. So I only gave him 4 stars. I like the twist and turn of the book and awesome ending as I would never have expected it. But the details of an event took forever. It didn't need to be a 480 page book. Some scenes was really dragging. Too much details like I said. But overall a really good book. I will read his other book Velocity also. Looking forward to it.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted November 10, 2008

    LOVED ITT!

    This book really took a toll on me, though im only 11, i really got into it from the beginning! The ending was by far the best, i never thought that Ariel and Chyna would end up like that, and Edgler, that was very unexpected! But i loved every minute of it. It really kept me on my toes and i just couldnt put it down. It was very intense, though in the middle of the book, i think that it may have told just a little more about Chyna's older past life than we really needed to know, but thats one thing that made it more interesting, but sometimes it was stretched too far. but i really liked the book and i just finished!!!!<BR/> THANX! anymore questions about the book email me at<BR/> www.myspace.com/huntermx992 and i would be happy to answer any questions about the book! <BR/> ~HD~

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 2, 2008

    Not his best

    I am definitely a Koontz fan but I felt that this book fell short of some of his other books that I've read. It was far too wordy. Too much time was spent on Chyna's past and way too many pages were dedicated to her freeing herself from the chains. I would've given this book 5 stars if the majority of the above mentioned were to be cut out of the story. Mr. Vess was definitely a good 'villian.'

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 29, 2007

    Intense...pretty much anyway..

    I've been starting to read Koontz lately and I must say I've been able to read nothing of his that is not amazing. Intensity is definantly a good read and worth the time, but i read it right after Velocity, and I must say that in my mind it fell far short of its greatness. While still moderately keeping attention, it almost drags at points, but is still a very satisfying adventure worthy only of Koontz.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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