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Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper - Case Closed
 
 
Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper - Case Closed (Hardcover)
by Patricia Cornwell (Author) "Monday, August 6, 1888, was a Bank Holiday in London ..." (more)
2.1 out of 5 stars 70 customer reviews (70 customer reviews)
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Amazon.co.uk Review
Few books receive the kind of pre-publicity that Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper--Case Closed generated. Some of it was good, some of it not so good, but all was calculated to get reader interest running at fever pitch. In fact, Patricia Cornwell's actions in trying to solve the world's most famous serial-killer mystery (just who was Jack the Ripper?) have been highly controversial, but since when has controversy undercut interest in a book? And who better than a writer whose name is synonymous with the scientific solving of crime to tackle London's legendary mass murderer?

Using the methods of her character Kay Scarpetta, Cornwell's forensic investigation has pointed the bloody finger of guilt at a figure who has long figured prominently in the Ripper files. The investigation here is an intriguing mix of the personal and the professional: as well as orchestrating a Scarpetta-like search for the identity of the Ripper, Cornwell involves several very personal connections with the task she has set herself, and this is no dry thesis. Needless to say, the more gruesome aspects of this famously grisly case give no pause to a woman who has taken us into the grimmer aspects of forensics with her unsqueamish protagonist, and we are spared no details here (but who would purchase Portrait of a Killer if they had delicate sensibilities?). The arguments here are intelligently marshalled, and laid out with the precision and attention to detail of Cornwell's novels.

In order to prove her thesis, Cornwell purchased (and made tests on) some great works of art, but the tale of how she arrived at her highly contentious conclusions is quite as fascinating as one of the Scarpetta books. You may not agree with her, but you will not put this book down. --Barry Forshaw

Publishers' Weekly
'Compassionate, intense, superbly argued, fluidly written and impossible to put down ... the most important true-crime book ... of the 21st century.'

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Customer Reviews
70 Reviews
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4 star: 10%  (7)
3 star: 11%  (8)
2 star: 8%  (6)
1 star: 58%  (41)
 
 
 
 
 
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25 of 26 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars Torn "Portrait", 24 Nov 2005
One of the most insidious phrases in the English language is: "It's obvious that..." Nasty little phrase. It's usually used to cover weak logic, but it convinces people because of the implication that whoever says it is more knowledgeable than the listener.

So imagine an entire book based on that phrase.

Unfortunately, "Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper -- Case Closed" is one such book. Bestselling mystery writer Patricia Cornwell tried her hand at unravelling the century-old mystery of who Jack the Ripper REALLY was. Too bad her book is a steaming pile of... well, you get the idea.

In her investigations, Cornwell primarily focused on Walter Richard Sickert, a British impressionist, actor, and pal of Oscar Wilde. While Sickert was open about his interest in the serial killings, Cornwell delves into the bizarre to reveal what she clearly sees as irrefutable proof of his double identity. Makes you wonder what the poor guy did to tick her off.

Perhaps the problem is Cornwell's fiction -- her imagination is way too active. She seems to be treating the Jack the Ripper case not as a true event with hard facts, but as something that can be spun into a semi-fictional narrative, with clues that no jury would vote for. It would make for a good detective novel, but not a serious cold case investigation.

Watermarks, coincidental poses, perceived signs in his paintings, hoax letters and mitochondrial DNA are all touched on, but Cornwell never actually produces any hard evidence -- in other words, evidence that would make a jury sit up and listen. At best, the evidence is circumstantial. For example, Ms. Cornwell has no actual proof that any of the letters that were tested were even from Jack the Ripper, or that the mitochondrial DNA was from Sickert. However, this doesn't stop her from asserting that both are the case.

And her leaps of logic are almost impossible to swallow, unless you have a festering hatred for Sickert. For example, his apparent fascination with the crime makes him clearly guilty in Cornwell's book, despite the fact that many others -- also presumably innocent -- were similarly fascinated by the crime. The big difference is that we know of Sickert, whereas we do not know of Robbie the night porter.

Cornwell also tends to damn without reason, exhibiting an almost shocking smugness. Sickert is proclaimed a cunning "psychopath," and her disdain for certain parts of London is obvious. Worst of all is Cornwell portraying the cops of the time as inept losers who could not find their own backsides with a map. The "dumb cops, smart li'l me" tactic works in fiction, but it is absurd in the real world.

And finally, what did Sickert do to earn Cornwell's wrath? In her eyes, he is a cunning psycho, a woman-hater, a eunuch, a "slob," a master of disguise, a predator, and a guy who was obviously insane because he liked to take nighttime walks. Every small facet of his personality is twisted into a sign of predatory madness. If liking nighttime walks shows that you're a deranged killer, then chain me up.

While Patricia Cornwell -- who destroyed at least one Sickert painting in her quest -- is a passable fiction writer, her real-life investigations are nothing short of demented. "Case Closed"? I think not.
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12 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars Unconvincing and surprisingly badly written, 15 Feb 2004
By A Customer
I was hoping this to be a well-written account of Patricia Cornwell's own quest to prove that Walter Sickert was Jack the Ripper. But there's very little of that, and very little of the hard scientific evidence that Cornwell's millions are supposed to pay for. Instead assumption is piled on assumption--phrases like "could have been" or "might possibly" appear on every page. Cornwell seems fonder of a kind of associative innuendo than the evidence provided by her highly-paid team. Sometimes this reaches bizarre heights: one victim spoke Swedish--a language similar to Danish--Sickert's father was Danish! One of the Ripper latters compares a cut throat to a necklace--Sickert painted women wearing necklaces! My favourite concerns a murder where the assailant was described as being a man in uniform. Cornwell explains that Sickert loved uniforms, even appearing as a French soldier in a production of Henry V. The image he image this conjures--of a crazed Sickert stalking the East End in chain mail is just too hilarious.
One of the book's other faults is that it is very heavily padded. There a lengthy disquitions on Victorian life, even a couple of pages on the Elephant Man. The murders are described in unnecessary, almost loving detail, together with long and pointless digressions about what a modern forensic lab might have been able to do with the evidence. There are also a couple of disturbing and gratuitous asides about necrophilia which make me seriously wonder about how Ms Cornwell's mind works. To sum up, this book offers very little to anyone interested in either SIckert or the Ripper murders, but it's a fine study in monomania and self-delusion.
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