Forensic psychoanalysis: From sub‐clinical psychopaths to serial killers. By BrettKahr. Routledge, London, 2024; 224 pp; £26.99 (paperback). (The Forensic Psychotherapy Monograph Series)

Professor Brett Kahr has long been one of the most prolific and stimulating voices in British psychoanalysis. With Forensic Psychoanalysis: From Sub-Clinical Psychopaths to Serial Killers, he offers a deeply original and timely contribution to the forensic field. Drawing on the clinical legacy of Freud, Klein, Winnicott and Welldon, Kahr presents a compelling case for the expansion of psychoanalytic thought into the often-neglected territory of forensic states of mind. The book is, quite simply, excellent. It is rare to encounter a text that so seamlessly weaves classical theory with contemporary clinical insight, and rarer still to find one that does so with such stylistic clarity and humane depth. Kahr explores a range of disturbing psychic phenomena without sensationalism or moralism, maintaining a tone that is both rigorous and compassionate. His capacity to balance clinical gravitas with accessible exposition makes this a particularly valuable resource for experienced clinicians and trainees alike, as well as anyone working in forensic settings. One of the most powerful themes running through the book is the concept of explosions in the consulting room—those moments of therapeutic rupture that, as Kahr argues, may represent a perverse form of hope. This idea, developed through detailed clinical narrative, is emblematic of the author's ability to explore complex psychic material through fresh conceptual lenses. In Kahr's hands, the consulting room becomes a crucible in which dissociated trauma and destructive impulses can be witnessed, tolerated and eventually metabolised. This reading invites a re-evaluation of what might initially appear as therapeutic impasse or failure. The breadth of the book is considerable. Kahr does not limit himself to working with those already entrenched in the criminal justice system. Instead, he extends the notion of the forensic to include sub-clinical psychopaths, disturbed professionals and individuals whose destructiveness is more insidious or culturally sanctioned. This move is both ethically and clinically significant, encouraging us to attend to the latent violence in everyday psychic life. In this sense, the book also serves as a critique of the broader sociocultural dynamics that enable and obscure such pathology. Throughout, Kahr deftly negotiates the tensions inherent in forensic work: the interplay between care and control, empathy and accountability, containment and confrontation. His clinical vignettes model the kind of therapeutic courage that is required when working with individuals who evoke powerful countertransference responses. Whether confronting sadism, denial or dissociation, he demonstrates a capacity to remain analytically attuned without becoming emotionally overwhelmed or morally reactive. His writing is infused with a deep respect for the suffering of his patients, and an equally deep respect for psychoanalysis as a mode of enquiry and care. In doing so, Kahr reanimates the forensic consulting room as a space of moral complexity, radical empathy and clinical courage. The cases are vivid, sensitively rendered and often profoundly unsettling. But they are never gratuitous. There is an unflinching honesty in his clinical descriptions, yet always tempered by a steadfast ethical commitment to the patient's humanity. Kahr's debt to his psychoanalytic forebears is made explicit throughout the text. Freud's metapsychology, Winnicott's concept of the anti-social tendency and Welldon's work on perversion and criminality are all engaged with critically and creatively. Rather than citing these figures as intellectual authorities, Kahr enters into dialogue with them, extending their ideas into new territory and testing them against the realities of forensic practice. In doing so, he not only honours their contributions but also advances the field of forensic psychoanalysis in new and important directions. The book also demonstrates Kahr's skills as a historian and as a storyteller. While grounded in clinical theory, his prose is accessible and often arresting. At times, one is reminded of his background as a psychoanalytic historian and biographer: his portraits of patients are layered, humane and psychologically rich. His attention to narrative coherence does not detract from theoretical rigour; rather, it enhances it, allowing the reader to grasp the full weight of forensic phenomena in lived human terms. In addition to his clinical and theoretical contributions, Kahr addresses the broader institutional and societal frameworks within which forensic work takes place. He invites the reader to consider not only the intrapsychic structures of the forensic patient but also the systemic factors that shape their trajectories into violence and marginalisation. This multi-level approach underscores the importance of psychoanalytic thinking in settings that are often dominated by risk assessment tools and managerial discourse. If there is a limitation to the work, it lies in its relative silence on issues of race, ethnicity and cultural identity. While Kahr presents a diverse range of clinical material, the absence of an explicit engagement with these sociocultural issues of patients is noticeable. In a contemporary forensic context where racialised trauma and systemic inequality often play a central role, this omission leaves a gap in an otherwise richly textured account. Future work in this area might usefully build on Kahr's insights while broadening the lens to include cultural and racial dimensions of the forensic encounter. Where Kahr excels is in his understanding and extensive knowledge of working with people with intellectual disabilities, presented sensitively in the clinical vignettes he uses. These contributions are particularly important in a field that has historically overlooked the complex needs of this population. Ultimately, Forensic Psychoanalysis is a groundbreaking addition to the forensic psychotherapy literature. It opens up new ways of thinking about violence, destructiveness and the therapeutic encounter. More than that, it offers a hopeful vision of what analytic work can achieve, even in the most challenging of circumstances. It reminds us that the forensic patient, often marginalised or demonised, can be met with curiosity, containment and care. In doing so, it places the therapeutic relationship at the heart of forensic transformation. It deserves to be widely read by psychoanalysts, psychotherapists, forensic practitioners and all those concerned with the deeper dynamics of the criminal mind. In placing the forensic patient back at the centre of psychoanalytic attention, Kahr has done the field a great service. His book provides both a clinical guide and new ways of thinking—a testament to the enduring relevance of psychoanalysis in a world increasingly tempted to look away from the most troubled among us. The data that supports the findings of this study are available in the supplementary material of this article.