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The Ripper
A city gripped by a horror it had not known for a century, since Jack the Ripper stalked its streets. One by one the hideously butchered corpses were found. Day by day the police had less and less hope of stemming the torrent of blood. All that drew a down-on-his-luck detective named Jack Shepherd into the case was the pay offered by the distraught parents of a slain girl. But from his first step into a labyrinth of human secrets and shameful guilts, love at its most beautiful and sex at its ugliest, maddening mystery and mind-boggling revelations, there was no turning back until he discovered the shattering truth about--THE RIPPER!
- GenresHorror
188 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published December 1, 1981
30 people want to read
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
June 2, 2022
Are you like many of us, watching the developments on the news and wondering, "What the hell is wrong with people?"
Back in 1981, British author Michael Butterworth, while writing his third novel as William Dobson, was wondering about the same things. Apart from acts of terrorism, there were not a lot of mass killings in the UK of notoriety until the Hungerford Massacre in 1987, but the country had never forgotten people like Ian Brady and Myra Hindley. Around the time Butterworth was writing "The Ripper," police were bringing an end to a 5-year killing spree of the "Yorkshire Ripper," Peter Sutcliffe. As his exploits became public knowledge, interest in the legendary Jack the Ripper resurged, a macabre tragedy interwoven in the fabric of English society, which also happened to coincide with the growing popularity of "slasher films." The Western world was certainly preoccupied with the mysteries in the darkest reaches of the human mind, and what could happen when that darkness is tapped.
Because the general public never gets a full understanding of what these perpetrators we're thinking when they committed their heinous crimes, or what contributed to the development of their apparent sociopathy, it was up to artistic media to fill in the gaps. Classic horror crime thrillers like "Halloween" and "Targets" did not offer much in the way of answers, choosing to instead focus on the unknown, the absurdity of the senseless and random violence against innocent people without motive. But Butterworth's short paperback from hell does give us snippets of insight into the mind of his deranged psychopath.
The book opens with an inner monologue of the Ripper and then switches back and forth between the narrative proper and further thoughts from the perspective of the killer. These thoughts are written in italics in sections that precede each chapter called "The Mind of a Death-dealer." I don't want to go into details here as I wish to avoid spoilers.
The narrative itself follows a private investigator hired to help grieving parents find answers regarding the unsolved brutal murder of their daughter. The girl was a runaway working in a Soho strip club, and so apparently solving her murder was not high on the priority list for the police. This theme of classism was lifted from the Yorkshire Ripper murders, as it was thought that Sutcliffe chose his victims mostly because they were prostitutes with low socioeconomic status, and thus largely ignored by investigators and the public. His predecessor, Jack, also seemed to have targeted women who were down-on-their-luck. But the killer in this novel ends up not being so discriminate, and when a wealthy widow turns up mutilated in her own mansion on the day of her daughter's wedding to a peered aristocrat, Scotland Yard and the public seems to wake up to the horror in their midst. Who is this new "Ripper," and what is the connection between the victims?
The writing is so essentially British, filled with stock stereotypes and vernacular. The characters, though plentiful, are not given much to do. Our main character is likeable enough, but he spends most of his time getting drunk on Scotch and taking girls out, so he is not very reliable. I guess he's supposed to be attractive though, "like Clint Eastwood without the cigar," because every woman he meets either flirts with him or gets in bed with him, which is fortuitous since he is able to weasel information out of otherwise hostile witnesses. Otherwise, he is rather inept. But he also has a constant toothache, and having recently had an offending split first molar pulled, I can appreciate how this doesn't lend to folks being completely on their game.
Now, you collectors of classic paperback horrors are probably wondering if this book is worth adding to your shelves. After all, it is relatively unknown and requires a bit of searching or luck to find. Well, if you are asking that question, then you already know the answer.
The only edition I know of is by Signet. The cover artwork is simple but spectacular, with a kitchen knife illustrated as to give the impression of dynamic movement toward a scantily clad female, certainly an eye-catcher for anyone glancing through the bookstore stacks, and a must for collectors. The story itself is simple and easy to read in an evening or two, though the prose is smart and won't insult your intelligence. I can't say the book is particularly scary, but it does have it's share of descriptive carnage and disturbing moments which kick off right from the opening chapters. It is truly a quick and dirty slasher.
Overall, there is nothing that stands out here as a hidden gem in the files of vintage paperback horrors, and it won't necessarily get you any closer to understanding what the hell is wrong with people. But there are absolutely no noteworthy faults in it's construction either. It serves as a fairly engaging time capsule of a society rocked by a new kind of violence since the days when the Germans brought a world war to their shores. It is gritty, pulpy, gruesome, but thoughtful, and will be sure to please readers who enjoy thrillers, crime novels, slashers, and vintage horror.
Back in 1981, British author Michael Butterworth, while writing his third novel as William Dobson, was wondering about the same things. Apart from acts of terrorism, there were not a lot of mass killings in the UK of notoriety until the Hungerford Massacre in 1987, but the country had never forgotten people like Ian Brady and Myra Hindley. Around the time Butterworth was writing "The Ripper," police were bringing an end to a 5-year killing spree of the "Yorkshire Ripper," Peter Sutcliffe. As his exploits became public knowledge, interest in the legendary Jack the Ripper resurged, a macabre tragedy interwoven in the fabric of English society, which also happened to coincide with the growing popularity of "slasher films." The Western world was certainly preoccupied with the mysteries in the darkest reaches of the human mind, and what could happen when that darkness is tapped.
Because the general public never gets a full understanding of what these perpetrators we're thinking when they committed their heinous crimes, or what contributed to the development of their apparent sociopathy, it was up to artistic media to fill in the gaps. Classic horror crime thrillers like "Halloween" and "Targets" did not offer much in the way of answers, choosing to instead focus on the unknown, the absurdity of the senseless and random violence against innocent people without motive. But Butterworth's short paperback from hell does give us snippets of insight into the mind of his deranged psychopath.
The book opens with an inner monologue of the Ripper and then switches back and forth between the narrative proper and further thoughts from the perspective of the killer. These thoughts are written in italics in sections that precede each chapter called "The Mind of a Death-dealer." I don't want to go into details here as I wish to avoid spoilers.
The narrative itself follows a private investigator hired to help grieving parents find answers regarding the unsolved brutal murder of their daughter. The girl was a runaway working in a Soho strip club, and so apparently solving her murder was not high on the priority list for the police. This theme of classism was lifted from the Yorkshire Ripper murders, as it was thought that Sutcliffe chose his victims mostly because they were prostitutes with low socioeconomic status, and thus largely ignored by investigators and the public. His predecessor, Jack, also seemed to have targeted women who were down-on-their-luck. But the killer in this novel ends up not being so discriminate, and when a wealthy widow turns up mutilated in her own mansion on the day of her daughter's wedding to a peered aristocrat, Scotland Yard and the public seems to wake up to the horror in their midst. Who is this new "Ripper," and what is the connection between the victims?
The writing is so essentially British, filled with stock stereotypes and vernacular. The characters, though plentiful, are not given much to do. Our main character is likeable enough, but he spends most of his time getting drunk on Scotch and taking girls out, so he is not very reliable. I guess he's supposed to be attractive though, "like Clint Eastwood without the cigar," because every woman he meets either flirts with him or gets in bed with him, which is fortuitous since he is able to weasel information out of otherwise hostile witnesses. Otherwise, he is rather inept. But he also has a constant toothache, and having recently had an offending split first molar pulled, I can appreciate how this doesn't lend to folks being completely on their game.
Now, you collectors of classic paperback horrors are probably wondering if this book is worth adding to your shelves. After all, it is relatively unknown and requires a bit of searching or luck to find. Well, if you are asking that question, then you already know the answer.
The only edition I know of is by Signet. The cover artwork is simple but spectacular, with a kitchen knife illustrated as to give the impression of dynamic movement toward a scantily clad female, certainly an eye-catcher for anyone glancing through the bookstore stacks, and a must for collectors. The story itself is simple and easy to read in an evening or two, though the prose is smart and won't insult your intelligence. I can't say the book is particularly scary, but it does have it's share of descriptive carnage and disturbing moments which kick off right from the opening chapters. It is truly a quick and dirty slasher.
Overall, there is nothing that stands out here as a hidden gem in the files of vintage paperback horrors, and it won't necessarily get you any closer to understanding what the hell is wrong with people. But there are absolutely no noteworthy faults in it's construction either. It serves as a fairly engaging time capsule of a society rocked by a new kind of violence since the days when the Germans brought a world war to their shores. It is gritty, pulpy, gruesome, but thoughtful, and will be sure to please readers who enjoy thrillers, crime novels, slashers, and vintage horror.
Displaying 1 of 1 review