[edit 08/17/2024]
Coming back to this several years later, I feel like I did the book something of a disservice in my original review. Not that it's better than I said (it is not) but that I made an emotional argument for why this book bothered me, when a clear elucidation of the problems with Rubenhold's research would have made my case stronger. So let's talk about the research.
Rubenhold repeatedly makes logical leaps in The Five whenever she runs up against a hole in the historical record - which happens fairly often, as these women's lives simply were not extensively documented. Let me give one example: from the records we do have, we know that Elisabeth Stride was a domestic servant in her native Sweden until she was fired for becoming pregnant out of wedlock, whereupon she turned to prostitution to support herself. This poses a problem to Rubenhold's overall narrative, because her argument in this book is that the Five were not sex workers - and yet, here's one who demonstrably was! So how does she get around this? By concluding that Elisabeth was a victim of rape by her employer, which then forced her out of her position when her rapist impregnated her. This, Rubenhold says, is how Stride was made into a sex worker - a tragic, fallen woman, wronged by a trifling man.
There is - I cannot stress this enough - no evidence that this happened. None. Rubenhold constructs it out of whole cloth. Is it possible that this happened? Sure! Rubenhold's evidence (such as it is) is that female domestics were at high risk of sexual abuse from their employers, and had no resources on which to rely if they were being preyed upon. This is true. But there's no evidence that this is what happened to Elisabeth. Rubenhold makes it up because, in order to make a sex worker a "worthy" victim, she must be turned into a pure victim - not someone who made choices about her life, circumscribed as they were, but someone who was buffeted about by the will of people stronger than her until she died. Good grief, even Fantine was allowed to be more complex than this!
But the most egregious example of Rubenhold's bias and mythmaking comes in the chapter on Mary Kelly. Mary is, by far, the most mysterious of the Five -she told conflicting stories about her origins to various people in her life, and we don't even really know where she was born, or what name she was christened with. None of the information we have about her life prior to the last few weeks of it is verifiable. But that doesn't stop Rubenhold! In her telling of the story, "Mary Jane may have been skilled at presenting a sweet facade, but her internal life was one of turmoil and distress." Her source for this is an octogenarian interviewed in the 1970s who grew up in Whitechapel and maybe possibly met Mary and described her as seeming kind of sad. Watertight evidence, that. (Also it's a minor point, but "a sweet facade" might be stretching things, because one of the few pieces of testimony we do have about Mary in life suggests that she was a bit of a rowdy drunk.)
But that's not all. Oh no. Rubenhold also claims that Mary was a victim of sex trafficking - that a pair of dastardly pimps spirited her away to Paris, which she escaped by the skin of her teeth, and spent the rest of her life looking over her shoulder in terror that she'd be kidnapped again! Now, you may be asking (although god knows why, at this point) what foundation Rubenhold has for this claim. Well, it's that Mary told some of her Whitechapel acquaintances that she'd been to Paris once with a client, but she hadn't liked it very much, and came back to England after two weeks. That's. It.
This is obviously a pretty thin case, so Rubenhold attempts to bolster it with a contemporary case study: W.T. Stead's The Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon, an 1885 pamphlet about the proliferation of sex trafficking in England. There's just one problem with this: Maiden Tribute was an infamous hack job, so much so that Stead was brought to trial for kidnapping after he procured a thirteen-year-old girl under false pretenses (he told her mother he'd found an apprenticeship for her) and took her to a brothel. The pamphlet has been described by author Ronald Pearsall as "the death knell of responsible journalism," and it's not hard to see why. But Rubenhold doesn't care; as long as she can support her narrative of having made a paradigm-shifting discovery about the lives of the Five, with a solid dose of Victorian moralizing to go with it: sympathetic victims don't make choices! Sympathetic victims are passive receptacles for the images we want to project onto them, without any of that pesky personality or agency or individualism getting in the way. Mary and the other Five weren't women doing the best they could with the shitty hand they'd been dealt by life: no, they were all Moll Hackabouts, unfairly maligned as people who exercised what limited agency they had in an environment of grinding poverty. Thank God Hallie Rubenhold is here to set us all straight.
(Oh, and also: in the chapter on Annie Chapman, who struggled with alcoholism for most of her adult life, Rubenhold writes that "what her murderer claimed [on the night of her death] was simply all that remained of what drink had left behind." Classy, Hallie! I can feel how much respect you have for your subjects.)
[original review 08/11/2019]
I'm glad this book exists. I'm glad it spends next to no pagetime on Jack the Ripper himself, because he's had more than enough press over the years. I'm glad that someone is at least trying to put the victims at the front of the narrative, which is where they should have been to begin with.
But . . .
A big part of Rubenhold's thesis in this book is that four of the five women were, in fact, not sex workers, and that they had been unfairly classified as such due to Victorian prejudice against the working class. That may well be true; I haven't read far enough into Ripperology to confirm or deny it. But the second part of the argument Rubenhold makes seems to be contingent on the first: they were not prostitutes, and therefore they are more sympathetic, more complex, and more multifaceted than they've been given credit for. The idea that these women could have been prostitutes and also been worthy of respect, love, and mourning never really appears in the book. There is little to no sympathy here for confirmed sex workers; even in the case of Mary Kelly, who was definitely engaging in sex work at the time of her death, Rubenhold invents a backstory for her out of whole cloth (she was tricked and trafficked to Paris by dastardly pimps!) to make her profession more palatable. It's an old, tired narrative: sex workers aren't sympathetic unless they were forced into the profession at gunpoint. Does it matter? Can't Mary Kelly be a whole person who also sold sex, no matter how she got there?
(I also have to note that Rubenhold's sources, especially in the Mary Kelly section, are more than a little suspect - she quotes W.T. Stead's "The Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon," a tract that has been widely criticized and discredited since it was published in 1885. Given this level of sloppiness, how well can the rest of her research be trusted?)
I don't know if Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate, and Mary were sex workers. It doesn't matter. It doesn't make their deaths more or less tragic. It's just unfortunate that, under the banner of advocating for their memories, Rubenhold felt the need to separate them from the "streetwalkers" who are - in this book's narrative - less worthy of sympathy and respect.