Many people over the years have published books about the 'Yorkshire Ripper' but this must have been the first, and maybe the last, to be written about Peter Sutcliffe. The distinction? the 'Yorkshire Ripper' is largely a media phenomenon, a tabloid bogeyman, an inhuman monster, but in this book Burn shows us that Peter Sutcliffe, despite his crimes, was very much in many ways your average Joe. He was and is: somebody's husband and somebody's son.
One might imagine that such a portrayal would therefore tend towards a liberal 'bleeding heart' style representation of someone who is still, to this day, an extremely controversial and newsworthy figure. That is where you would be wrong. The opposite in fact is true. Like Hannah Arendt's famous depiction of Adolf Eichman, what Burn's discovers is that it is the banality of Sutcliffe's evil that lends it it's most sinister aspect.
We do not read the words 'Yorkshire Ripper' untill 150 pages into the book and up till that point the significant figure in the book is not Peter Sutcliffe but John Sutcliffe, Peter's dad. Burn takes us deep into the heart of the world in which Peter Sutcliffe grew up, replete with the poverty, working class chauvinistic culture and the individual family members with their respective idiosyncracies.
Burn spent 3yrs living in Bingley and speaking with the people who knew Sutcliffe, not least his immediate family, and it shows. What emerges is a Sutcliffe who is human, all too human. His shyness, social awkwardness, devotion to his mother and love of motors are all here alongside the murder and gore.
Burn writes as a novelist rather than a journalist and therefore avoids the pitfalls of sensationalism and hyperbole to create a vivid picture of the world in which Sutcliffe emerged, a world of which Sutcliffe was a product of and not an unintelligible aberration. Burn's Sutcliffe is thus all the more unsettling for he is one of 'us' and not the constitutive 'other.'
Colin Wilson has described this book as "a book that will undoubtably become a classic in the field of investigative criminology" but to my mind it is so much more than that, in fact it is not criminology at all in it's classic sense but a novelistic yet naturalistic account of a particular time and particular place put in to sharp historical focus by the actions of a man born in Bingley, Yorkshire, in 1946 to John and Kathleen.