Autobiography of jack the ripper carnac brittany

There’s an awful lot of hubris on display in the title of this book, which bills itself as The Autobiography of Jack the Ripper himself, and I suppose it was that hubris which caused me to seek out a review copy.

Certainly, it wasn’t because of the subject matter, although I am in a minority in this: Jack the Ripper, the mysterious figure who in 1888 killed (arguably) five women in the Whitecapel part of London, entered almost immediately into the popular imagination, and his stature there has only grown larger in the 100+ years that have passed.

There is a staggering amount of attention given over to Jack the Ripper. Books upon books on him come out every year. People who are experts on him are “Ripperologists,” apparently.

My interest in Jack the Ripper is very passing: where it exists at all, it’s first because of my endless reading and fascination with the 19^th century and everything in it, and second, because like other cases (such as the Halifax Slasher