Author: Stephen Hunter
Title: I, Ripper
Genre: Horror; Fiction
Rate: 3/5 | Goodreads
…I, Ripper by Stephen Hunter or how to ruin your main plot, main secret, in the middle of the book. For that is exactly what the author did, no matter how much his main character praised Sherlock Holmes.
About the Book: Jack’s a common fellow, invisible in the crowd, one of many. It’s only that at nights, under the barest light of the moon, he hires girls, who even in the midst of this murderish horror that became Jack the Ripper, wouldn’t suspect a fella as polite and charming as he, and then dissects them, seemingly, for the pleasure of it. Thus entering the world as a nightmare legend.
Journalists helped this legend grow, the legend of Jack the Ripper, Whitechapel Butcher that London won’t soon forget, by supplying the mob with gory details, blunt headlines, and even the name itself.
My Opinion: Nothing tied proper. Nothing. Do you remember how it used to be popular to describe yourself as “random“? Well, this book was bloody random. Jack made no sense whatsoever, what he said, what he did, what he pretended to be, those where three different things that didn’t mix at all. And on top of that jumble, author goes right ahead and tells us who the murderer, who Jack is in the middle of the damned book, thus taking away the one thing that drove me, as a reader. The only praise I got is Jack wasn’t made to be a charming serial women killer, the way it seems to be fairly popular these days.
I’ll give this book a very shaky 3 out of 5 for the sheer fact that author wrote in a very smooth fashion. If someone would’ve pointed out he gave up his cards like that, for no reason, it might have made a decent book.