Jack London Books

Robin Odell is an expert on his subject and the book contains much useful and interesting detailed information. However I did find the narrative difficult to follow and would have preferred the text to have been broken down into short sections each devoted, say, to one Ripper book and how it contributes to the body of literature.

This story is set in the savage, frozen North. Two men with a dog sled are transporting a long box. Wolves are near, they haven't much ammunition. [Believable?] What will happen next? Chapter 4 tells what happened to the wolf pack. A wolf pair learns to rob snared rabbits. London describes the life of a wolf, and how the world appears to a young cub. Does this society remind you of humans? White Fang's relation to Gray Beaver is like the feudal system (Chapter 13). The story continues with the adventures and life of White Fang.

London describes life during a famine, when the lack of prey causes hardship and death for the predators. [What does this tell about London's outlook on life?] Chapter 16 shows London's characterization of "Beauty Smith" [who is like a villain in an Ian Fleming novel]. You might think London was an animal lover protesting against the use of dogs as draft animals. Or does "White Fang" symbolize human society (Chapter 17)? At the end of the story the Blessed Wolf gains favor with the Scott family. [But why did the other dogs do nothing in the night?]

In "The Call of the Wild" a city dog learns to live in the frozen forests of the north. "White Fang", born in the frozen north, relocates to sunny California. They are imaginative stories that appealed to readers in the early 20th century. [I wonder if biologists would approve of the details of a wolf's life?]

After spending millions of dollars of her own money, Cornwell claims to have solve the case (and bring some justice?). I'm not sure about the justice part. I have read Cornwell before and I'm not the biggest fan. This book is an interesting mess: it has both good points and bad points.

First, I'll cover the good points. The book does a great job of depicting the lives of the "unfortunates," the prostitutes of the East End of London. She describes the milieu, the hopelessness, the rampant disease, and the unsanitary conditions. She also explains how Jack the Ripper gets away with it. The police force did not have the resources to track him down. She also describes how current techniques could have caught him. She gives a multitude of arguments for Sickert being the murderer. She also addresses, at least partially, most of the objections to Sickert being the Ripper.

The bad points are legion. One is that the book really drags in certain sections. She also lists other possible murders that could have been done by Jack the Ripper. This drags. She also seems to be pressing. She seems to pick Sickert at a Scotland Yard detective's recommendation and then seems to twist the circumstantial evidence to fit. Since this case is very old, there is no way we can disprove her suppositions. She also makes several insinuations and then writes, we cannot know for sure because of the lack of evidence. Why bring it up? She pretty much thinks every anonymous crank letter is from Jack the Ripper. I agree it seems like Sickert did write some of them, but it really doesn't prove anything. He appears to have been a very strange fellow. She also makes a big point that his paintings seem to depict some of the murdered women. However, interpreting paintings is a very subjective skill and I don't give it much weight.

I've read a few of the reviews and they misunderstand how Cornwell used the DNA evidence. She does not use it to prove Sickert is the Ripper, she uses it to disprove some of the other suspects. The DNA evidence does not disprove Sickert.

I think Sickert could be a suspect. I agree with her that the evidence for him being in France for some of the murders doesn't seem convincing. Sickert seems to be very strange, very morbid and scary man. However, Cornwell does not prove her case.

This is the first Cornwell book I've read, and very likely the last. I started this book expecting something more mature than the movie From Hell, and found that there are actually several parallels and it's still purely circumstantial. While her accusations are compelling, they are not fact. Facts in this book are scarce. I give this three stars instead of one because the cover says "Portrait". She certainly does create a portrait. If this were a fictional novel and she didn't include herself in the book and make herself seem like Nancy Drew, this would've been a good, interesting read. But her constant interjections of "I found" or "I researched" or "I discovered" just make you want to slam the book shut and chuck it in the trash.
Thus, if you're wondering whether or not you should read this book, there is only a certain type of audience that will enjoy it. You'll enjoy this book if you know absolutely nothing about Jack the Ripper and the facts that dissuade people from thinking it's Sickert which Cornwell blatantly ignores. Or, you'll enjoy this book if you're willing to pretend that it's a work of fiction, because as a work of fiction, she does a really fabulous character description. The Walter Sickert she portrays is a morbidly fascinating person - if you're willing to pretend that it's a fictional character. If those two types of audience aren't applicable to you, don't bother with this one. There are better books on Jack the Ripper with far less bias and just as much research.

Case closed. That is what the title of the book says. But is the case truly closed or is this the opinion of one woman? I believe that it is the latter of the two. Patricia Cornwell believes that Walter Richard Sickert was the infamous Jack the Ripper.

Cornwell's book, "Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper Case Closed", is a detailed description of her labors in researching the infamous murderer and trying to link him to Sickert. I will commend the author, for it seems that she worked long and hard researching this topic. Unfortunately it is hard to believe that any of the evidence she has accumulated will hold any true report with Jack the Ripper researchers. Most of her evidence is pure speculation. For example: Walter Sickert was a skilled artist. Cornwell states that she was "unsettled" by some of the parallels when comparing his paintings to photographs of the crime scene. Apparently what was painted was very similar to the crime scene. This, strange as it is, does not really prove anything.

Some chapters do a very poor job of capturing the reader's attention and seem very repetitive. However, she does a very good job of detailing the scenarios where Jack the Ripper is involved. Unfortunately, I personally believe this book is very difficult to get into and is incredibly repetitive. If you are looking to seek more knowledge about the Ripper and what some peoples theories are on who he was, this may not be a bad book to start with.

- Written by Eric Kreuz

I've seen and heard all sorts of theories but without a DOUBT Patricia Cornwell has solved this case!! I couldn't put it down. I've passed the book on to others who are interested. ABSOLUTELY GREAT BOOK! The evidence found and the conclusions made are on the money! MUST READ if you have always found the Ripper case intriguing.

I FOUND PATRICIA CORNWELL'S BOOK " portrait of a killer" very enlighting. Ms Cornwell knows her forensics, and she brings us up to date by giving the "MO" of the era. She has done a lot of research on this book. I throughly enjoyed the history and back round given.

This is trying to be a great book, and it does manage to be good. It is in fact very informative, interesting, and intriguing. It has many new views, questions, answers,and insights that I would never have thought about. It is wierd, it is creepy, it is fun, it is all the things you need to begin a great conversation with someone who thinks they know the Ripper tales. Good read. 3 ***

James Maybrick was Jack the Ripper. He was, that's all.

The contents of the Maybrick/Ripper Diary, which display extraordinary in-depth knowledge of both "May" and "Jack", not readily available to the public, as well as a number of other historical factors which blend in perfectly with the story unfolded by the Diary allow for no other reasonable conclusion. James Maybrick WAS Jack the Ripper.

The Ripperology establishment and its groupies, however, continue to disdain the obvious, ever conducting an ostrich-like search for the "real" Ripper and looking for the "forger" of the Diary under every bed.

It's reminiscent of the way that shaggy leftist JFK conspiracy theorists stick their heads into black holes of grassy-knoll fantasia while lying to themselves and to the public in order to exonerate fellow leftist Lee Harvey Oswald and pin the assassination on the Right.

Nevertheless, Richard Wallace's book purporting to show or suggest that the Whitechapel killer was actually children's and fantasy author, Lewis Carroll, is more scholarly than given credit for.

Wallace himself declares an interest in the Maybrick/Ripper diary, as have other psycho-analysts, noting that the diary seems to be "sincere and well-done". But he allows conventional Ripperology to direct his attention from the diary - which is a little like using Saudi intelligence to find Osama bin Laden. Wallace is also misdirected by his own interest in Carroll, of course.

But contrary to what he has been charged with, Wallace isn't just playing word games. Before writing this book, he wrote a different one, based on his training as a therapist, in which he describes a dark side of Lewis Carroll's persona observable behind the upbeat fantasy of his works, and the conclusions that he draws in this book are at least as much based on his therapist training as on his analysis of Ripper letters and Carroll works.

Wallace remarks in this book that at some point, he wondered if he had fully plummeted the uncharted depths of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson in his first book.

All right, Wallace DOES go awry. He wonders if Carroll, who lived near London at the time of the Ripper murders found a vent for the suppressed rage that Wallace observes in Carroll's works, in the slaughter of Whitechapel prostitutes. And if the terrible secret that he was holding might ITSELF need an outlet which might be encoded somewhere.

Carroll was a lover of anagrams - might he have hidden clues as to the Ripper's identity in any Ripper correspondence or Carroll work? Wallace "anagrammatizes" these writings, and sure enough...

But as other critics have noted, the English language with 26 letters, flexible syntax, and assortment of homonyms is very malleable, and this sort of deciphering can be misused, however inadvertently. Wallace even suggests that the introduction "Dear Boss" (from the famous "Dear Boss" letters) can be anagrammatized into "sob dears" or "dare boss" ("Dares was another Dodgson nom de plume) or "sores bad" (an associate of Carroll's was afflicted with gout).

But how does one normally start a letter WITHOUT the word "dear"? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Moreover, just suppose that Carroll had desired to create a work of fancy of 50 words or more and had desperately intended to write it in such a way that the letters couldn't be possibly be rearranged to indicate some unintended secret meaning. How would he have gone about it? Clearly, it wouldn't have been possible, and therein lies the rub.

Anyway, if Carroll NEEDED a confessional outlet for Ripper crimes, he could have included a non-encoded straightforward confession of them in his OWN diaries, to be released to posterity after his death, but as Wallace acknowledges, Carroll's own diaries contain no such thing.

No, Wallace's anagrammatic analyses can be disregarded, but he does come up with other interesting nuggets. The "Eight Little Whores" poem, originally introduced by Donald McCormick and hinted at in the Maybrick Diary, really does have a meter similar to Carroll's "A Game of Fives", written in 1883.

Assuming that the meter isn't a familiar or well-used one, does this similarity really mean that Carroll was the Ripper or does it just mean that Maybrick - I mean the Ripper - read Carroll's poem?

Wallace also has an interesting idea on just where the Whitechapel killer might have gotten the pedigree for the nickname of "Jack" and even a possible pedigree for the modus operandi of the Ripper murders themselves.

Intelligent Maybrickians should assume the air of chess players already comfortably in the middle game of a "Hunt the Ripper" match while shrill critics scream over the dimensions of the game board. Maybrickians should act with an eye toward history and toward a more receptive future generation of Ripper historians. Wallace might have identified some lines of inquiry that will facilitate this.

Finally, Wallace might deserve some commendation for acknowledging the sustaining presence of God in his life while immersing himself in the exploration of the darkest side of the human condition. By allowing light to flood his mind and soul, Wallace likely ensures that he himself will never become part of the Ripperology establishment.

Anyone who still believes that there is some credence to the anagram idea, should simply go to google, type in "anagram generator" and choose one of the finds, and type in some sentence. You will get absolutely swamped by the output. Try it, see for yourself.

First off, this book doesn't prove that Charles Dodgson aka Lewis Carroll was Jack the Ripper. It doesn't even come close. What it does do is show how a fertile imagination can take a few facts and run wild with them: it's speculative nonfiction at its finest, or more accurately, speculative non-narrative fiction. I'd be disappointed to discover that Wallace believes in his lunatic thesis, but I wasn't at all disappointed to read it. It's berserk and methodical at the same time, a shining gem of surreality.

As another reviewer has already pointed out, when an excerpt of this book appeared in Harper's Magazine, Francis Heaney and Guy Jacobson wrote a letter to the editor in which they came up with an anagram for the first paragraph of Wallace's excerpt that was far "superior" to any of the anagrams that Wallace had found in Lewis Carroll's work!

Since part of that review seems to have been cut off, I will repeat this wonderful anagram here. The original text was: "This is my story of Jack the Ripper, the man behind Britain's worst unsolved murders. It is a story that points to the unlikeliest of suspects: a man who wrote children's stories. That man is Charles Dodgson, better known as Lewis Carroll, author of such beloved books as Alice in Wonderland."

The anagram by Heaney and Jacobson reads: "The truth is this: I, Richard Wallace, stabbed and killed a muted Nicole Brown in cold blood, severing her throat with my trusty shiv's strokes. I set up Orenthal James Simpson, who is utterly innocent of this murder. P.S. I also wrote Shakespeare's sonnets, and a lot of Francis Bacon's works too."

It seemed so implausible to me that they could come up with such a perfect anagram that I actually checked on the computer to verify that it is an exact anagram! I think that this anagram shows (better than a thousand arguments about how easy it is to anagram fairly large passages!) that Wallace's thesis is bunk. Or else we must put Wallace at the top of our suspect list for Nicole Brown's murder!

THIS BOOK IS ABOUT A DOG WHO HAD THE EASY LIFE,BUT THEN SOMEONE KIDNAPS HIM. NOW HE IS IN ALASKA AND IS TRIANED TO BE A SLAYDOG.HE HAS TO GO THOUGH HARD BIZZARDS, TOUGH TERRAIN, AND AN OCCASIONAL BEATING, BUT IT ALL TURNS FOR THE BEST. I REALLY THOUGHT THAT WHEN I GOT THIS BOOK IT WOULD BE LAME. BUT IT ENDED UP BEING REALLY GOOD,BETTER EVEN. I EVEN READ WHITE FANG SO I WOULD RECOMEND THIS BOOK TO ANYONE WHO LOVES ADVENTURE THIS IS THE BOOK

THIS BOOK IS ABOUT A DOG WHO HAD THE EASY LIFE,BUT THEN SOMEONE KIDNAPS HIM. NOW HE IS IN ALASKA AND IS TRIANED TO BE A SLAYDOG.HE HAS TO GO THOUGH HARD BIZZARDS, TOUGH TERRAIN, AND AN OCCASIONAL BEATING, BUT IT ALL TURNS FOR THE BEST. I REALLY THOUGHT THAT WHEN I GOT THIS BOOK IT WOULD BE LAME. BUT IT ENDED UP BEING REALLY GOOD,BETTER EVEN. I EVEN READ WHITE FANG SO I WOULD RECOMEND THIS BOOK TO ANYONE WHO LOVES ADVENTURE THIS IS THE BOOK

This book was the most boring book I have ever read! I had to read it for school and I hated it so much! I suffered through the whole book and had to do like five projects on it!!! I had to have my mom read it to me because evertime I read it by myself I would fall asleep by the first half of the chapter... THIS BOOK SUCKS SO BAD! DON'T READ IT! DON'T BUY IT! It's the worst book I've ever read! Believe me I have read many books and I'm only a kid! I HATE THIS BOOK WITH A PASSION!!!!

This is a really good book! It tells everything from this cute little dogs point of view. If anyone tells you it is bad, it is because they are immature. If you like classics, this is a really, really, really good book. But don't trust me! Read it yourself!

I THINK THAT THE BOOK WAS GOOD BUT YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO READ THE CLIFFS NOTES NOW WITH OUT BUYING THE BOOK. I FORGOT TO BRING HOME MY ENGLISH BOOK AND NOW I CANT READ CALL OF THE WILD WITH OUT BUYING IT. I THINK THAT STINKS.

Only rarely do we get to read books that are as good as this one. Shirley Harrison has solved the mystery of Jack the Ripper's identity, and explains everything in a wonderfully readable style. I could not put the book down. It reads like an incredible mystery novel/historical detective thriller/tragic love story. Highly recommended!

I first read Shirley Harrisons 'The Diary of Jack the Ripper' and was completely intrigued. Here for the first time was REAL evidence against someone thought to have been the Whitechapel murderer. Evidence that seemed to be more than circumstantial and to my utter surprise everyone seemed to revolt against the very idea. Instead of reading what the book had to tell with an open mind, people automatically claimed it to be a hoax, bashing everything the author implied. To date, Shirley Harrison and Paul Feldman have spent many years trying to solve the mystery of this elusive diary and subsequently, the watch. Its been the most expensive Ripper investigation to date. And still today, no one has conclusively been able to prove that the diary or the watch is fake. People jumped on the band wagon when Michael Barrett 'confessed' to having supposedly forged the diary. Anyone with half a brain have since realised (as the author did) that this could not possibly have been true. All the evidence he gave to support his 'confession' has been disproved.

Why people are so vehemently against the idea that James Maybrick could have been The Ripper I dont know. It seems strange that many would rather accuse men with a lot less evidence stacked against them, than seriously consider a man who could clearly have been guilty.

However, as much as I enjoyed her 1998 updated version of the 'The Diary of Jack the Ripper', I found this version to be a complete waste of my time. There was no real evidence to connect James Maybrick/The Ripper to the US killings as the cover of the book suggested. Instead I was treated to a template of her first paperback with a few revisions here and there. Utterly disappointing.

David Forshaw doesn't know the half of it.

When it comes to the "unsolved mystery" that is Jack the Ripper, the Ripperology establishment doesn't just shift the goalposts for Maybrick advocates, it lines a brick wall between either end to make sure that nothing goes through.

There isn't the slightest bit of evidence - not the slightest - that Montague John Druitt slaughtered five or more Whitechapel prostitutes in 1888 - just the musings of a police official, long after the fact, who was not even on the case at the time. But one can be a Druittologist without risking one's standing in polite Ripper society.

There's no evidence that Francis Tumblety was the murderer either - he doesn't resemble any description of the Ripper and he might have been in custody when Mary Jane Kelley was murdered. The case against Tumblety is also based entirely on the long-after-the-fact musings of a retired police officer. But one can be a Tumbletonian without incurring the wrath of Mr. Harris.

There's no evidence that Joseph Kelly...but why stretch this out? Just mention Liverpool cotton broker James Maybrick (who bore an uncanny resemblance to one police drawing of the Ripper) and the Maybrick Diary and Watch (which have not failed any test designed to expose modern forgeries) and Ripperologists roll their eyes, foam at the mouth, and have nothing coherent to say - unless it's to demand a 19th century videotape of Maybrick killing prostitutes before even agreeing to consider him as a suspect.

Even without the videotape, the case against Maybrick is exceptionally strong, and a handful of Maybrickians have, for the past twelve years, struggled against the background noise to perfect the case against him - something not demanded for any other suspect.

Shirley Harrison, who first brought the world the Maybrick/Ripper Diary back in 1992, takes pen in hand again to discuss the trials and tribulations that she has undergone since then - and to review the case against Maybrick, as well as the leads that she has followed up on since 1992.

Much of this book seems to be written off of the same template as Harrision's first or borrows from Paul Feldman's book, though there are a few tantalizing clues that have developed since then which don't quite add up to a proverbial "smoking gun".

If the diary and watch themselves are not "smoking guns", then nothing else has been found which amounts to one - and yet...and yet...Ms. Harrison finds nuggets (American rumors of a Ripper diary circulating in St. Louis in 1888, British rumors of a diary written by Mrs. Maybrick in 1889, first revealed by Feldman, memoranda of deceased correspondents who knew or suspected a Maybrick/Ripper connection before the publication of Ms. Harrison's book, etc.) which make the "smoking gun" seem...ever...so...close. Actually, along this line, while Ms. Harrison borrows liberally from Paul Feldman at times, she ignores interviews that he conducted with living Maybrick descendants that really do suggest that their elders carried a terrible family secret to their graves.

And she does allow herself to get sidetracked. In reviewing the evidence against Maybrick - scientific and psychological - she would have done better to leave Sir Jim's astrological reading out of it. That's only going to provide more fodder for her critics to chew on.

It's actually quite amazing that Ms. Harrison, out of an abundance of caution, downplays some of the more intriguing evidence, such as the "Diego Laurenz" letter to the Liverpool Echo, while displaying no caution at all in wasting time and paper on astrological indicators.

Most disappointing of all is that the book does not come close to living up to its promise to incriminate Maybrick as having committed a number of serial murders in Austin, Texas in 1884-5. The jacket cover has the temerity to promise to place Maybrick "at the scene" of these eight murders, which occurred in the space of about a year.

This promise isn't fulfilled, and Maybrick's involvement in the eight Austin murders is left open as just one more tantalizing possibility. The trouble is that the Maybrick Diary itself, (and again, it was Ms. Harrison who introduced us to it) does not even remotely hint that its author committed ANY earlier murders ANYWHERE.

To the contrary, the Diary's author seems to treat serial murder as a brand new game. There is a reference in the Diary to one or two murders in Manchester, England in 1888 that are not regarded as part of the Ripper canon, and the earlier Manchester murder is described as Maybrick's "first". If the diary is genuine, its language downplays the notion of any Maybrick/Ripper murders occurring before March 1888.

I think that Ms. Harrison is trying a little too hard to gild the Maybrick lily here. I also think that the best part of the book might be the postscript written by Liverpool psychology professor David Canter.

Professor Canter doesn't unreservedly endorse the diary as a genuine historical document, but he does provide a wonderfully clever critique of just how accurate it is, how true it rings, and how perfect a forgery it would have to be. At one point, he wonders mischievously what in the world the genius who is supposed to have "forged" it has to gain by remaining silent at this late date.

Professor Canter might well turn out to be the Maybrickian's answer to Melvin Harris - only wittier and more genial. His writing provides a reminder that when the Diary is removed from the clutches of hysterical Ripperologists screaming "Fake!" and shown to students of the human condition, such as psychologists and lawyers, the skepticism largely vanishes and it is regarded as one more intriguing blueprint of that condition.

Surely, as the years go by, more of these students will continue to review this fascinating document, and surely this is one more reason to believe that posterity is on the side of the Maybrickians. Tempus Omnia Revelat!

... these words will be here to warn you. This book has had millions of reprints. It gets a new title every year just so that all the 1 star reviews vanish over for a new term.

The hoaxer admitted forging the diary.

Okay, say the name on the tip of your tongue - The Diary of Jack the Ripper - and watch as the dollar signs flicker before your eyes. It was bound to happen sooner or later. The reason why the Diary is still popular today is because a few Ripperologists attached their name to it and few have had the guts to actually say that they where wrong and walk away from it. The Diary is essentially a mini-volume of notes allegedly written by James Maybrick, around the time of the Whitechapel murders, that sign at the end as "Jack the Ripper". So how does it read? Well it is reasonably fair to say that it is very creative reading and does keep you entertained, but then again that is exactly what it is meant to do. What we know today is that it is undoubtedly a forgery because the owner of the book Michael Barrett simply admitted to forging it himself. End of story, really. So you might enjoy this book but remember that it is only fiction and the case is still far from solved.

What one must remember is that James Maybrick is still a Ripper suspect and was a Ripper suspect long before the advent of the Ripper Diary so don't discount this suspect just on the bases of this book being a forgery.

Click on the authors name and have a good look around. I am sure you will be impressed and the message will finally sink home. Shame about the Ripperologists who went pair-shaped hooking up with this book as the Real McCoy. There have been a few causalities because of it.

OK, here's the lowdown: The author takes an alleged diary of James Maybrick which claims he was Jack the Ripper, but the person who "found" it admitted to forging it. The contents of the diary contradict known facts of the case yet mimic errors that were introduced in Ripper books released shortly before the diary was announced. The contents of this diary clearly state that the Ripper had seven victims and seven victims only. There is even a supposed pocket watch of Maybrick's that has his name, his claim to being the Ripper, and the initials of these victims, which conveniently showed up for the first time at exactly the same time the diary did but from some other person. So that's all pretty ludicrous, but some people will believe anything I guess...

Now we have a new book from the same team who tried to push that forgery off on us... But here they claim, what do you know, that Maybrick also killed off a bunch of other people while running around the United States. But these supposed victims died in completely different ways then the Ripper victims did, and there is absolutely nothing that indicates either the Ripper or Maybrick had anything to do with them.

So if you accept the fact that the diary was forged, Maybrick is clearly innocent and this book is bunk. On the other hand, if you want to believe the diary is real, then it's pretty clear he only had seven victims and they were in England, and thus this book is still bunk.

No matter which way you go on the question of the authenticity of the alleged Ripper diary, this book is simply nonsense.

Don't waste your money.

While Jeff Wells does an excellent job capturing the tenor of the times he does Tommy Burns a grave disservice in treating him as the bad guy of his story, and Johnson the great hero. Burns could have done what previous holders of the heavyweight championship had done, and flatly refused to give Johnson a shot at the title. But, unlike the others, he allowed Johnson, a black man, his big chance. It was Johnson who turned his back on his race and denied similar opportunities to Sam Langford, Joe Jeannette, and Sam McVea. Jack Johnson was a talented fighter, but not much of a human being.

A couple of weeks ago I was invited over to Lyle's house for dinner for some weird Canadian holiday called "Boxing-Day". When Lyle first called me and asked if I wanted to come over I was a little hesitant to make myself public again because I might have to talk about the Jack-Russell-Terrier. After listening to that Dog-Rat bark over and over, I decided it was in my best interest to go over to Lyle's and regain some of my sanity that the Jack-Russell-Terrier has been stripping away from me since it's un-holy insulting arrival to MY house. I called Lyle back and told him I'd be there ONLY if no-one would mention the Jack-Russell-Terrier or Morris (unless of course they had found him).

After I hung up the phone with Lyle, I realized that I did-not know anything about this Canadian-custom of Boxing-Day. Since both mom and Dad were home I was unable to go on Dad's "golden" computer and research it, so I had to research it in my head and on Home-Box-Office's-boxing-show. As I watched two guys in a ring punch each-other merciless for a while, Dad walked in and started talking at me about something or another, so I just went up to my room and closed the door. Doesn't he know I don't want to speak with him due to his treachery against Morris?

As I sat in my room I wrote down the things I noticed about watching the boxing show:

Boxing Gloves
Robe
Shorts
Angry-Faces

Due to my time limit I was forced to prepare my outfit for the Boxing-Day celebration quickly. I snuck into Mom's room and grabbed a robe that closely resembled what the gladiators wore to the ring. There was a problem though. I noticed some loop in it that said some-thing about some-one named Victoria, I ripped at it until it came off, tearing a hole in the robe in the proccess. I was upset with the robe at first, but I figured that the hole probably made it look like I've used it before in other Boxing-Day celebrations. I wanted to fit in.

Now with that taken care of I ran to the basement to get my boxing-gloves that I use on my Sock'em-Bop-Buddy inflatable punching-man. I wanted to make sure I still had some of my old moves, so I punched at it for a while (mental note: tape picture of the Jack-Russell-Terrier to it when I'm done with this review). I snuck past Mom and Dad to return to my room to grab a pair of addias-soccer-shorts. I'm pretty sure Lyle and his family won't mind, due to me being American and all, and not having a real pair of boxer-shorts. I put the outfit on. I looked pretty good for a First-Time-Boxing-Day-Rocky. I looked over my list again, and noticed I still needed the angry-face to complete the out-fit. I stared at my mirror until it was time to go, practicing my angry-face. MAN did I make some angry-faces! You should have seen them! Watch this, I'm gonna make one now! GRRRRRRRRRRR! AAArrrrrrrrRRR! Oh man, you guys should see this! ARARARARRRRR! Now THAT was a good one! Okay, here I go watch---Oh yeah, the review. Anyways, I threw my coat over the out-fit so Mom and Dad wouldn't want to take my picture, or some other weird parent thing.

When I arrived at Lyle's, (oh yeah, for my fans knowledge, it's really hard to drive with Boxing-Gloves on), any-who, back on track. When I arrived at Lyle's I walked in and threw off my coat to show them my Boxing-Day out-fit. I thought they would be really impressed with my respect for their culture. They sat there wide-eyed for a moment, so I thought I would further impress them and I threw out some jabs and a hay-maker style air-punch. Lyle's father and brother started to laugh, Lyle's mom told Lyle to get me some "proper-attire". I followed Lyle to his room confused, I spent all that time on this out-fit to impress them and I got laughed at. Maybe I was too pre-mature, and we would switch after dinner.

Lyle gave me some clothes to put on, and informed me that it wasn't that type of Boxing... He did note he was pleased with my enthusiasm though. We walked down to the dinner-table and Lyle's Dad called me Sugar-Ray for some reason. What the HECK!? Is that how Canadians do Boxing? With verbal-punches? I thought I'd join in and made a comment on his HUGE bald spot. Lyle and Lyle's Mom and Brother laughed. I said "how'd you like that verbal upper-cut?". Then I layed into him with some verbal jabs about his chronic-alcoholism. Lyle's Mom quickly interjected by lecturing me about how Boxing-Day did not have aaaannnyyy-thing to do with Boxing, physical or verbal. She then went on with some snore about church donations and this-and-that. What I thought was a great idea for a holiday, just pulled a one-eighty. For some reason though, Lyle's dad continued to call me Sugar-Ray for the rest of the evening. What the HECK kind of thing is that to call a GUEST in your house!? What's next, Honey-Bottom? Candy-Striper? Cinderella-Man!? He was probably just drunk.

In Conclusion, I blame the turn-out of this evening on my own Dad. Since he doesn't allow me on the computer all that much, it didn't allow me the time to do the proper research. I might have to invest in a book on Canadian customs so this won't happen again. They have this Thanks-Giving prequel type thing that I don't want to get embarrassed about either. Pfffft. Those Canadians LOL! Whatever, leave me alone. My dog ran away and you should stop reading this and go help me find him you lazy Americans. Later.

howardtuttleman.com

As I am not a fan of this journalist, I must admit I was a bit prejudiced when it came to reading this book. Credit where credit is due though, this book is very good. It reveals an insight into the world as it was in the early part of the 20th Century and especially Australia, the scene of the Burns - Johnson World Heavyweight title fight in 1908. The author brings to light the personalities of these two boxers and how the public reacted to these personalities at varying times. Overall it is a well-balanced and entertaining read.

"Patriarchy" "American imperialism" and other post-modern and feminist political buzzwords ruin this book just as much as they ruined Professor Stasz's "Jack London's Women." The Professor's statements (paraphrased) that without Charmian, his mother, his nanny, et al, the world would never have heard of Jack London is bunk, and insulting to a genius of American letters. Further, her baseless assertion that London's first wife and second wife were happier after his death because he was gone from their lives is wishful thinking. I think his widow might have begged to differ with the good Professor. Professor Stasz but destroys her credibility as a scholar by continually showcasing her assumptions about a man she never knew, colored by her politics. I'll never waste my time on her work again.

Being an avid biography reader I have developed some prejudices. I like biographies where I can detect that the author liked his subject. It is obvious that although discerning about London's at times haphazard behavior, the author does like and understand her subject. Ms Stasz introduces enough psychological insight to explain this behavior without the explanations becoming oppressive. Both Charmian and Jack become friends you care about. They are developed into vital people whose adventures you share, disasters and all. Another prejudice is readability and this was one of those books I read easily. I would recommend it highly and I don't do that often, unfortunately.

i read this book a good while ago and have been looking for another copy. i noticed a review by another patron saying the story seemed choppy, and did i miss a page? when she said she thought she missed a page she was close to the truth. the book that i read, the 1912 edition has 384 pages, the one available now has 108 pages. i think that the story was butcherd by some editor for what ever reason.

The reason this book is not well known by London readers is because it stinks. It appears to be a juvenile effort by London at a very early time in his career when he had not yet nailed down his mastery of description or characterization. I finished up Martin Eden the day before and was starving for some more London, preferably an adventure tale such as South Sea Tales. When I went to the bookstore I was excited to find a novel based on the Klondike and was able to get through about 3 chapters before I realized that I was forcing myself to read only because it was a work by London. The descriptions of incidents are choppy and bland, the conversations are dull and forced, and the manner in which London moves from scene to scene leaves the reader thinking wait, did two pages just get stuck together and I missed something??

If you want to read off the beaten path London I suggest you read John Barleycorn (amazing, I felt the heat from the coal furnace) or South Sea Tales.

I have read many books on the topic of Jack The Ripper and this one is, by far, the best. The basic premise is that Jack the Ripper is a team of influential Aristocrats led by a prominent surgeon are committing the murders in Whitechapel. The best part of this book is the evidence that the author has found through her extensive research. She does a great job of proving that Police Officials and Doctors involved in the case lied to cover up for very important persons involved. The greatest discovery can be found in Chapter 10 and you will be astounded at the photographic evidence contained therein. I don't understand what Robert Hinton from the UK is talking about, however, maybe he has not read the same book as I have. Some people can be vindictive when they have not wrote a book. Trust me, you will want to read this book. 5 stars guaranteed!

After reading "Epiphany of the Whitechapel Murders" I was shocked to see that one reviewer had rated it so high. While Jack the Ripper is not my primary area of research, I have read a good amount of historically significant publications regarding the Whitechapel Murders and the Thames Torso Murders. Trenouth's information in this book conflicts with some of the most widely accepted and factual historical findings in the research community. For example, Trenouth claims that there is a Baphomet idol in the 2nd picture of the fifth victim Mary Jane Kelly, however if you look at the picture, you can clearly see what Trenouth is referring to is actually a pile of flesh.

Trenouth claims this book was a result of her own research. I found this quite disturbing as several of Trenouth's passages were direct copy n' pastes from numerous respected authors and researchers on the JtR casebook site. What Trenouth did manage to write was a muddled distortion of imaginary facts that failed produce her promised result. Trenouth's book is very troublesome in that regard. It's scary to see that one can write anything one wants and pass it off as fact. Even more disturbing is that Trenouth proudly touts that she has solved the case, but none of the thoughts presented in this book prove who JtR was. I am not suggesting the plot of Trenouth's book is imaginary, but even the land of make believe has standards.

To be fair, I guess I'm not the target audience for this book. It's really more the result poorly written self-published work of un-organized imaginary thoughts. (The kind of book you might read while wearing a tin foil hat.) But it troubles me that the bulk of the information is wrong, yet touted at stone cold fact. It is definitely a quick read, but that's only if you don't try to re-read the the parts that simply don't add up. I guess it would look good on your shelf, if you know nothing about the Whitechapel Murders. As long as no one else has studied JtR, you could probably convince them that you too, are a self-proclaimed ripper expert who has "solved" the case.

Bottom line, I am kicking myself for having paid "used price" for Trenouth's book. If you can get one for .01 and you interested by the mixed reviews, why not give it a try?...but don't get your hopes up. I personally won't be buying anymore of Trenouth's books.


(((Notice how the positive review below is *NOT* an Amazon "Real Name" user)))

The best thing about this book is that it is hilarious; the worst is that I don't think it was meant to be!

A work of fiction, the author uses a well-tested device of mixing actual events with imaginary ones. Unfortunately whereas masters of this genre such as Bernard Cornwell and George McDonald Fraser manage to use this ploy successfully Ms Trenouth fails miserably.

The paper-thin plot revolves around a mysterious cabal who meet in secret, smoke filled rooms plotting the murder of a prostitute named Mary. The method chosen is to just start killing prostitutes and hope they get lucky! Since records show that the prostitute population of the East End at this time (1888) was about 80,000, you have to admire their determination if not their intelligence!

Characters are just picked up and dumped in front of the readers with no other justification for being there other than they happen to be available. In a vain attempt to inject some interest into this abysmal nonsense, Ms Trenouth enlists the help of the usual suspects. Knights Templar, Freemasons and Devil worshippers are all thrown into the mix, Dan Brown you have a lot to answer for. Even Queen Victoria is given a walk on part which seems to consist solely of muttering `We are not amused' and handing out free pardons to anyone who requires one.

All in all a badly written, poorly presented mishmash of facts (which seem to have been cut and pasted from the internet), and weak and unconvincing invention.

The only possible reason for having this book is if you have a wobbly table that needs propping up!

From what I hear, this book can't be praised. It is as ridiculous to accuse Prince Eddy of the Whitechapel murders as it is to pretend they must have been done by some lone wanderer. It's an ambitious fantasy.

I don't speak for anyone else, but I am heart-weary of being shreiked at until I 'admit Karen Trenouth has solved the case'.

This book was put together far too soon. Okay, she has been sabotaged. That's wrong. But if she'd done a good job, her saboteurs wouldn't have had such a field day.

Sorry Karen.