A mere three days ago, I shared with you the planned exhumation of the remains of the notorious serial killer known as Dr H H Holmes. Well, that exhumation is now officially underway and we now have a reason for the sudden exhumation: a silly television show aims to prove that H H Holmes and Jack the Ripper were one and the same. It’s a stupid idea, but anything to sell yet another television show, I guess.
The idea that Jack the Ripper and Holmes were the same man is a ludicrous one. First of all, their respective methods of murdering the women were vastly different. Second, their choice of victims were different: Jack murdered prostitutes while Holmes murdered ordinary girls who had traveled to Chicago in the hopes of finding employment. There’s never been a serial killer who has suddenly changed his method of killing nor his choice of victims. There’s usually a very specific reason why serial killers go after the people they do. Third, and most important of all, there’s a clearly documented trail of Holmes’ whereabouts here in the United States while the Ripper murders were happening. He was busy here being married to two women at the same time and having a little girl with one. I can’t see how he’d suddenly have interest in traipsing off to England to murder a few whores. Jack, on the other hand, seemingly appeared and vanished from existence just for that short span of time.
I don’t know how they will connect any DNA found in the remains of the body in Philadelphia to anyone in England. There have been many different individuals purported to be Jack the Ripper. Will they search for the descendants of each suspect until they find a match?
Video story here
I don’t want to say too much about this book since my comrades will be reading it, so I will put the rather vague review I wrote on Goodreads with the addition of the synopsis from the back of the book.
Winifred Rudge, a writer struggling to get beyond the runaway success of her mass-market astrology book, travels to London to jump-start her new novel about a woman who is being haunted by the ghost of Jack the Ripper. Upon her arrival, she finds that her step-cousin and old friend John Comestor has disappeared, and a ghostly presence seems to have taken over his home. Is the spirit Winnie’s great-great-grandfather, who, family legend claims, was Charles Dickens’s childhood inspiration for Ebenezer Scrooge? Could it be the ghostly remains of Jack the Ripper? Or a phantasm derived from a more arcane and insidious origin? Winnie begins to investigate and finds herself the unwilling audience for a drama of specters and shades—some from her family’s peculiar history and some from her own unvanquished past.
Although I never finished reading Maguire’s iconic Wicked, I saw this book while out book shopping with a friend and decided to pick it up. I have to admit, I’m glad I did, because I managed to finish the book.
Admittedly, there were some parts that were difficult to follow, which I put down to the author’s bizarre writing style. There were parts where the text was different, which took me a bit to figure out why it was done like that. It’s not often that you read a book featuring a main character who is writing a book. And of course he allows her to follow the clichéd recommendation of writing what you know.
I should warn any of you who may be interested in a story featuring the ghost of Jack the Ripper: it’s only a very minor pseudo-plot. I bought the book mainly because there was a mention of ghosts and it was set in England, but I would be lying if I said the fact that a potential ghost of Jack the Ripper didn’t appeal as well. Buy it because you like paranormal fiction, not because Jack the Ripper is mentioned in the synopsis on the back of the book like I did.
The East End of London in the late 19th century was often portrayed in the media as being overrun with poverty and slums. This was not something exclusive to this particular area of London, as there were other sections for the less fortunate. It became synonymous with poverty and wretched conditions largely because it was home to the rough, crime-filled Whitechapel district. It was here that one of the most well-known serial killers of all time had his short-lived reign of terror.
He doesn’t have the body count that many serial killers after him accumulated, but few can claim the notoriety–even more than 120 years after the last unfortunate girl was murdered. This is Continue reading