I’ve always been vaguely aware of Jack the Ripper—the Whitechapel murderer of prostitutes—but that was the extent of my knowledge. I never watched any movies or delved into theories; I simply knew he wasn’t a fictional Dickens character, that the murders were real, and that was it. I’m not entirely sure what compelled me to pick up this book, but I think I assumed that my own lack of knowledge was universal, and that this book might offer some groundbreaking revelation about the identity of Jack the Ripper.
I started reading it at night and had to stop almost immediately. It was far more disturbing than I anticipated and forced me to confront, in a very real way, that these murders truly happened. Even though I knew that, I apparently hadn’t let it sink in. The author presents a fairly compelling case that Edward Buckley could have been Jack the Ripper, but stops well short of claiming it as fact. There’s no definitive proof, and the book is very clear and objective about that. The evidence is presented thoughtfully, with the author consistently noting when something is more circumstantial than solid.
What surprised me most was the portrayal of the women and the broader community. In my lifetime, we tend to view female victims as passive, almost ghostly figures overtaken by violence. While the Ripper’s victims were certainly overpowered and victimized, they were not meek, fragile figures drifting down quiet streets. Life in Whitechapel was chaotic, harsh, and full of criminal activity—committed by both men and women. That was an eye-opener for me and something I had never really considered.
This book is as much a study of daily life in Whitechapel as it is a study of Edward Buckley. I’m not sure enjoy is the right word for reading about such horrific events, but I appreciated the depth of detail and the broader context beyond just the suspect himself. The descriptions of the living conditions, behaviors, and tensions of the time were fascinating—and unsettling.
If you’re already fascinated by Jack the Ripper, some of this material may be familiar to you, though the Edward Buckley angle might still feel fresh. For me, it was all new, and I’m not sure whether that reflects a genuinely new theory or simply my own previous ignorance. But if you—like me—tend to think of Jack the Ripper as more of a storybook or movie figure, I would encourage you to read this and absorb the sobering reality of what happened. Whoever the Ripper was, the terror he brought to Whitechapel was very real, and this book brings that sharply into focus.