This book review first appeared on www.bookclubbabble.com.

Angie Kim’s debut novel Miracle Creek stays with the reader long after you’ve finished. At times touching and uplifting, and at times sad, Miracle Creek is always emotionally moving.

Miracle Creek has been a wildly successful debut novel. Time has called it a “gripping… page-turner.” The Washington Post has called it “a stunning debut about parents, children and the unwavering hope of a better life, even when all hope seems lost.” And O Magazine calls it “a quick-paced murder mystery that plumbs the power and perils of community.”  Author Angie Kim notes that fans of Liane Moriarty and Celeste Ng would enjoy this novel.

In Book Club Babble’s interview with Angie, she indicated that the novel’s genre can best be characterized as part legal thriller, part coming of age story, and part women’s fiction. Angie also indicated that the novel would appeal to parents, immigrants, and anyone interested in learning about parenting a special needs child. I would also add that it appeals to mystery aficionados. In the novel, there are a wide variety of parties and possible suspects regarding the accident that serves as a central plot point.

Miracle Creek is the name of a fictitious rural DC-area town. At the novel’s beginning, readers meet the children and parents involved in hyperbaric oxygen therapy (HBOT), which is used to treat conditions ranging from autism and developmental delays to infertility in adults. In the novel, the HBOT is run by the Ang family, who immigrated from Korea in the not too distant past. A seemingly accidental explosion occurs, leading to the death of a patient and parent, which sets the stage for the events which subsequently unfold.

Miracle Creek is a whodunit, leaving the reader guessing as to the perpetrator until the very end. However, it is also a deep study of the challenges of parenting special needs children, and a hard look at parenting in general, especially in an uber competitive environment such as the Washington, DC area, where parents push children to achieve in a constant keeping up with the Joneses race. According to the novel’s description, Miracle Creek uncovers the worst prejudice and best intentions, tense rivalries and the challenges of parenting a child with special needs.

The reader learns about the past histories of all the children and adults involved at the time of the accident, both those receiving therapy as well as the Ang family. It is this exploration of emotion and hardship that makes the novel so moving. At times I had to take a break from reading because I empathized greatly with the children involved.

In addition to being a whodunit, Miracle Creek is also a legal thriller, with compellingly written courtroom scenes. Throughout the trial scenes and flashbacks, the reader learns that not everything is as it initially appears to be.

These topics are all very familiar to the author. Angie speaks from experience, which is one of the reasons this novel resonates so strongly with the reader. Angie lives in the Washington, DC area, has worked as a trial attorney, and is a mom of three boys. In fact, one of her children underwent hyperbaric oxygen therapy for a chronic illness. Furthermore, her family immigrated to the United States from Korea when Angie was a teenager. We explored all these topics during Book Club Babble’s interview of Angie.

One of Angie’s motivations for writing this novel was to explore the definition of happiness, and what that may mean for different people. The mothers of special needs children depicted in Miracle Creek wish their children were “normal,” whatever that means. But in the relentless search for treatment options to help their children lead happier, more independent lives, these same mothers do not appear to appreciate the time they have with their children, which, as the novel brings home, is too-short-lived.

And for those immigrants who move to another country in search of more opportunities, there is definitely a price. As Miracle Creek portrays, that price may include working longer hours away from family members, giving up the social and support groups of their home countries, and navigating a new language and new customs.

While a difficult emotional read at times, Miracle Creek makes the reader reflect on those things that are truly significant in life. The reader comes away with the message that life is short, and that our limited time is best spent on meaningful pursuits and interactions.

For a more in-depth look at Miracle Creek, check out Book Club Babble’s interview with author Angie Kim here.

*****

Miracle Creek makes a fantastic book club read. Here are Book Club Babble’s Book Club Questions to guide you:

1. How would you characterize the genre(s) of this novel?
2. Do you sympathize with Elizabeth, who is on trial for her son’s murder? Why or why not?
3. What could Elizabeth have done differently to be a better mother to her son?
4. Do you think Mary’s mother regrets her family’s decision to immigrate to the United States? Why or why not?
5. What do you think makes a good parent?
6. It seems that many parents get so bogged down in the day-to-day minutiae of raising children (i.e. making sure the brush their teeth, finish their homework, etc.) that they fail to appreciate the fact that they will not always have this time with their children. How can parents live more in the present in their children’s lives?
7. Do you think that parents should push their children to achieve, or that parents should give their children more space and independence in learning about natural consequences of actions (or lack of action)?
8. Do you think it is ever justified to lie to third parties to protect your children? Under what circumstances?
9. Do you think it is ever justified to lie to law enforcement authorities to protect your child? Why or why not? And under what circumstances would it be justified, in your opinion?
10. What does happiness mean for you? How would you know if you are happy?

The Unrepentant: A Thriller by E.A. Aymar is a fiction novel that is not for the faint of heart. It deals with sex trafficking and paints what is likely a realistic picture of how women who find themselves in bad personal situations get drawn into that terrible predicament.

In addition to relaying the story of Charlotte, a young lady from an immigrant family who is abducted and forced into sexual slavery, The Unrepentant is the story of all the people who help Charlotte escape that terrible life. It is also in part the story of the psychological issues Charlotte faces as a result.

Told in a fast-paced narrative, the novel appears to have two main protagonists. The story begins when military veteran Mace happens upon Charlotte’s attempted execution at the hands of her captors. Mace thwarts it, only to find himself taking care of Charlotte while running from a host of murderous thugs, all while trying to figure out the best course of action to take. Charlotte, understandably, is initially mistrustful of Mace, and the bond of friendship that slowly forms between them is one of the best parts of this story.

From that point, the novel’s plot unfolds to involve Mace, his estranged attorney wife and a friend in Charlotte’s escape. Mace goes to great lengths to assist Charlotte, at incredible risk to himself and his friends. In fact, while reading this novel, I found myself wondering whether the average person would go to the lengths that Mace did for a stranger. I personally would not; I would certainly not put my loved ones at risk for a stranger, but it is an interesting question to pose to the reader.

Another interesting question is that of revenge. After Charlotte is arguably safe from her captors, she plots her revenge against them, with Mace’s assistance. Again, I questioned the logic behind a character’s actions. Why risk your life once you got free?

Whether Charlotte’s revenge is satisfying or too risky is the reader’s decision. Her ordeal has understandably made her angry. However, the reader is left with the question of whether her anger is due to nature or nurture, especially given Charlotte’s back story involving her mother’s own anger issues.

While Charlotte faces her demons, her rescuer Mace is also fighting his own. He suffers from depression, such that it appears that he almost welcomes the relentless nonstop activity in which he engages to help Charlotte. One of the highlights of this novel is how well the characters are developed. Indeed, Mace’s witty humor to defuse the gravity of the situation in which he found himself was my favorite part of the novel. It is one thing to describe what is happening, and another to understand why the characters act the way they do.

(Author Ed Eymar with some random person, aka Maria Riegger.)

The most compelling, and difficult, part of this novel to read is the progression of Charlotte’s story as daughter of a single mother, to abused niece to independent teenager to kidnapping and trafficking victim. The author notes that most women who enter prostitution do not do so in the same way as Charlotte. Nevertheless, Charlotte’s story is heartbreaking and, unfortunately, likely not too different from that of tons of other victims with nowhere to go. This novel is not always easy to read, but raises interesting issues and shows the resilience of the human spirit.

Another book in The Adventures of Frank and Diesel series, Frank’s First Christmas is a heartwarming dog-centered tale involving five-year-old Saint Bernard Diesel and one-year-old pug Frank.

Written by Melanie Slack and illustrated by Katie Green, this book is for beginning readers and follows the exploits of real-life Frank and Diesel (who are part of Melanie’s family). You can follow the pooches’ real-life adventures on Instagram and Facebook.

Frank’s First Christmas is wonderfully illustrated with hand-drawn Christmas-themed images. Young children will enjoy learning about the spirit of Christmas with their four-legged family members.

The book is available here. Get your copy for your young readers in time for Christmas!

*This review first appeared on bookclubbabble.com.

The Artist is a compelling, richly written novel created by an author with the heart of a true artist.

Lyra Shanti is a novelist, poet, playwright, and songwriter. She is the author of the science fiction Shiva series, which has won several awards, including the first place 2017 SIBA Award for Best Science Fiction from Metamorph Publishing, the 2017 Best Space Opera Novel from Virtual FantasyCon, and 2017 Best SciFi Novella from Virtual FantasyCon.

The Artist’s tagline asks: Music… Madness… Sex… and Art. Can love save a man from himself? The answer: Maybe.

The novel tells the story of musician and composer Apollo Antonius Vidali, who overcame a traumatic childhood to become a talented and highly sought-after artist. Spurred on by his abusive, harsh father to become a successful composer, Apollo soaks up the attention of others, especially women. Indeed, his inability to control his desires and decide what he truly wants wreak havoc on all his adult relationships. He constantly seeks the dopamine rush brought on by the approval and attention of others, approval he did not receive from the parent who raised him.

Reminiscent of the story of Mozart, another child prodigy with a severe father who pushed the limits of his talent, Apollo ends up exhibiting the childish and immature tendencies that he was forced to repress as a child. He seeks solace in the arms of his wife, Coda, but is he even able to handle a committed relationship?

The characters in The Artist are complex and richly drawn. I questioned the adult Apollo’s choices while at the same time grieved his lost childhood and sympathized with the hand he was dealt.

There are several themes to unpack here. Is Apollo the way he is because he was born that way, or is his character a result of his harsh upbringing?

Further, Apollo’s father manages to keep Apollo dependent on him, and Apollo in turn appears desperate to please his father. This is not a healthy dynamic for an adult child and parent. Apollo’s father has his say regarding his son’s choice of employment, which suggests that his father sees him as an extension of himself. In turn, Apollo reinforces this dynamic by trying to please his father, instead of seeing himself as an independent adult with free choices.

As do many who have the strong desire to create, Apollo seeks solitude in composing his music, which takes a toll on his marriage and family relationships. Family life requires one’s time and attention, but the artist needs to create or he will go crazy. And, as noted by a Goodreads reviewer, there exists a fine line between genius and insanity.

The author’s description of the artistic process is spot on. Apollo is a tortured soul who escapes the confines of material life through composing. As I continued to read the story, I found myself asking whether art always arises as the product of great suffering. Is suffering indeed a necessary component of great art?

The Artist raises more questions than it answers, and that is not a criticism. How does one deal with a traumatic childhood? Indeed, that is different for everyone. Does anyone really want to know exactly how great art is produced? What made Mozart Mozart or Beethoven Beethoven? I’m not sure that I want to know, since that is where the magic happens. And, of course, as the book’s tagline reads, can love save a man from himself?

Without giving anything away, the ending of The Artist finishes on a positive note, hinting at the protagonist’s redemption.

Overall, The Artist is more than a novel. With the author’s rich prose, peppered with poetry, The Artist is, as deftly stated by a Goodreads reviewer, a “wonderful sensory experience.”

Further information about Lyra’s stories, music, and more can be found at lyrashanti.com.

Una, who uses a nom de plume, is an avid reader and independent author in the Chicago area. Her early reading enthusiasm exhausted her grammar school library and she was introduced to the magnificence of the downtown Chicago Public Library. Years later, she had the honor to take writing classes with Harry Mark Petrakis, downing a bowl of cheddar chowder after class.

Over the years, creative writing took a backseat to drafting legal documents. After one particularly brutal day in court, where the judge claimed she had written an arrest warrant on Una, she wrote a story murdering the problem judge (on paper). Feeling better, she returned to work. Adding additional victims proved to be a stress reliever making Una smile; after all, lawyering is a dirty business. The story grew into Judge vs. Nuts.

Una’s novella, Not Safe for the Bank(er) is a fast-paced, humorous romp to search for the killer of a bank employee, who was mysteriously left in the bank vault. A routine visit to the bank turns into an investigation for attorney Fiona Gavelle, and everyone appears suspicious. The assorted cast of characters keeps you guessing until the very end.

Una has published several novels and novellas. I encourage you to take a look. You will be entertained and surreptitiously educated as to probate law.

Check out my reviews of Dorothy Daisy and Die Judge Die.

Una’s next full-length novel, Judge vs. Michigan, takes you on a dinner cruise from Navy Pier. Can you swim?

www.unatiers.com

Una Tiers on Goodreads

Una Tiers Amazon

Twitter: @UnaTiers

Katie O’Rourke is an author of literary fiction that raises central themes about life and relationships.

A Long Thaw is a compelling, multigenerational tale centered around two cousins. Abby and Juliet were close growing up. After Juliet’s parents divorced, the girls’ lives went in different directions.

Abby was an only child and had everything she needed, including both parents. The oldest of three girls, Juliet was thrust into an adult role early, and had to take care of her sisters as well as her neglectful mother (female characters who have strained relationships with their mothers are a recurring theme in O’Rourke’s novels). Juliet’s estranged father was MIA, but not for the reasons she thought.

Abby knows who she is. Juliet has doubts about her on-again, off-again boyfriend and her relationship with her mother; and is angry at her father for abandoning her. When the cousins decide to share an apartment, a series of events unfolds and past family secrets are revealed.

The novel also raises a subtle yet interesting issue of nature versus nurture. Are one’s life choices the product of one’s particular personality and set of genes, or the product of what one was taught by example while growing up?

A Long Thaw is well-written and pulls the reader in, tackling complicated family relationships with understanding. The characters are highly relatable, and you just may see a bit of yourself in them.

Get your free copy here!

Thank you for reading,
Maria

Photo credit: Will Fuller, unsplash.com

The Gaia Effect by Claire Buss is an entertaining, fast-paced read set in a world, which frankly, may not be as far-fetched as was once thought.

Imagine a world where everyone is infertile and when you are ready to have children, you sign up for “Collection,” and are handed a synthetically created baby.

All of the sudden, this new entity — called Corporation — more or less runs your life, while also discouraging individuals from parenting “naturally.” In this new world, the use of neural implants is promoted, whereby a baby is fitted with an implant filled with nursery rhymes and early education subjects; and the use of a machine to rock your child to sleep is the norm. Parenting “naturally,” i.e. without robots and machines, is so frowned upon that there is talk of making it illegal. And when you think about it, these ideas are not completely farfetched. I just saw a Facebook post for a machine that automatically rocks your baby to sleep when she starts crying.

If these new parental norms were not enough, try to imagine what the news cycle will look like in this world. If you think that the news crawl on the bottom of your television is annoying, try to visualize the constant sweep of news projected across your living room wall and an ear implant that fills you in on the latest.

And, finally, consider that you live in a domed, physically closed-off city because the government has convinced you that noxious gases will harm you should you decide to leave. In addition, all your medical anomalies are mandatorily reported to the federal government.

If the above scenario reminds you of Fahrenheit 451, particularly the constant assault of information and entertainment, then you are not alone.

The Gaia Effect  is a splendid debut novel, which won the Uncaged Books 2017 Raven Award for Favorite Sci-Fi/Fantasy Book.

The book begins when a synthetically created baby is delivered to a couple within the context of all of the above-mentioned gadgets. This couple is part of a circle of friends who are trying to make sense of a series of events to come.

The daughter of an important Corporation Board member is the victim of a mysterious assault (the scene is not graphic). Another woman is in the Anti-Corp resistance movement and appears to have wavering loyalties. The husband of one of the other friends is a cop just trying to do his job despite the ever-constant influence of Corporation. And, mysteriously, several women have become pregnant despite the fact that the population is infertile.

The group then struggles with the rumor that, outside the domed city, people are actually able to live well, and that there are no harmful gases or environmental effects as stated by Corporation. In fact, when the group of protagonists eventually do get outside, they learn that not everything is as it seems.

The novel thus contains several mysteries. Why did everyone become infertile in the first place? How are these women apparently fertile now? Can people live outside the domed city, or is that a lie pushed by Corporation to further control the population?

The reader gets the answers, and along the way is taken for a wild, thought-provoking ride. The varied cast of characters works well to present divergent viewpoints, leaving the reader to ponder and come to her own conclusions. That was probably my favorite part of the book. Indeed, neither the ever-present and all-knowing Corporation nor the defiant Anti-Corp movement appear to be either 100% good or evil. Further, the author does a great job of describing the technology, without bogging the reader down with technical minutiae.

The Gaia Effect is well-paced and lighter and less gritty than other sci-fi novels, with a strong message of hope after catastrophe. I’m anticipating the sequel, The Gaia Project.

April 13, 2018 –

There are always at least two sides to every story. Perspective is everything and Danielle Teller’s novel has definitely delivered a different angle. Teller’s novel is a powerfully written rendition of the Cinderella story, from the point of view of the stepmother. It is an enjoyable read, at times sad, at times uplifting, but ultimately, Teller’s message comes with a strong core theme: the bond between parent and child comes from the nurturing, caretaking relationship more so than from the physical act of childbearing.

The author, a medical doctor, was inspired to write All the Ever Afters after becoming a stepparent. Having been a stepchild, and being a parent myself, I was intrigued at the novel’s premise. The setting of the novel harkens to a late medieval period, and the narrative is a sharp reminder of a woman’s role in society during that time, as well as of the extremely limited opportunities that women had.

All the Ever Afters tells the tale of the stepmother, Agnes, from the time she is forced to leave home at a young age, to her working in menial jobs, to becoming a woman, to succumbing to a man’s charms, and to having her two daughters. I won’t give away how she ends up becoming Cinderella’s stepmother (that was one of the parts I was anticipating and wouldn’t want to spoil it for the reader). The novel’s description of Agnes’ past allows the reader to empathize with her difficult life and to understand her parenting methods.

The book details several pieces of evidence that suggest that Cinderella (Ella) is more of an introvert than her stepsisters in that she prefers quieter, less stimulating environments. Agnes notes that Ella is “peculiar, … a solitary woolgatherer who did not engage in play like other children. She was a stickler for quiet.” Agnes “never knew what was going on behind [Ella’s] pretty eyes.” Agnes tells Ella’s father that “It would be good for Ella to get out of her chambers” and “It cannot be healthy for her to spend so much time alone.” One of the stepsisters notes that “good company is wasted on [Ella] and that she “stare[s] off at nothing.” These descriptions of Ella deeply resonated with me, since growing up I was an introvert in a household of extroverts, and often felt (and still feel) misunderstood when I seek solitude to recharge my energy. While reading All the Ever Afters, I wished that Agnes would allow Ella to be herself, instead of suggesting that Ella was somehow abnormal because her character was different from that of Agnes and her own daughters. Agnes does eventually come to this realization when Ella is older.

At the same time, I felt sympathy for Agnes, who had a difficult life and who, in adulthood, is forced for much of the time to live apart from her own children. It is easy to understand why Agnes is frustrated with Ella, who is beautiful and born to a wealthy family, and from whom not much is expected. However, suffering is always relative; a child does not understand how good he/she has it. The fact that Ella wants for nothing does not negate the painful fact that she loses both of her biological parents. In this, I also wished that Agnes would have been more openly sympathetic to Ella upon the death of her father.

Enter a stepparent into a family dynamic, coupled with a child’s need for stability, and it is easy to see how a child may test and resist the stepparent. The stepparent should be patient and build a loving relationship with the child so that the child trusts him/her. All the Ever Aftersdetails the blossoming relationship between stepmother and stepchild in a realistic way, where trust and affection is developed slowly.

Ultimately, All the Ever Afters tells a complex tale of a love that forms through patient nurturing and by just being present. It is a wonderful reminder that being an affectionate, understanding parent has great rewards.

Robert Kroese’s The Big Sheep is a fun, genre-bending ride. Kroese is largely an author of humorous, deeply sarcastic science fiction, although he writes (and writes very well) in multiple genres. Indeed, I don’t think enough work has been done in the humorous sci-fi genre. Fans of Kroese’s Mercury series, which pokes tongue-in-cheek humor at everything from lawyers (no offense taken) to bureaucratic agencies, will not be disappointed with The Big Sheep.

The Big Sheep is ultimately a work of science fiction, set in a dystopian, post-apocalyptic world after an event referred to as The Collapse. As a result, a large part of Los Angeles, known as the Disincorporated Zone, essentially became a chaotic, third-world country run by mafia lords. Sheep is also a detective noir thriller, featuring seemingly high-functioning autistic and mysterious private investigator Erasmus Keane (who refers to himself as a phenomenological inquisitor) and his trusty sidekick Blake Fowler, who tries to keep Keane semi-grounded.

The novel’s plot and atmosphere harken to Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, which inspired the movie Blade Runner. I would strongly recommend reading Androids before reading The Big Sheep, since the reader will understand the connections and get the humorous references more easily.

In Sheep’s main plotline, detectives Keane and Fowler are hired by two different clients to solve what appear to be two different cases. In the first case, a Hollywood star is afraid that someone may be trying to kill her. In the second, a lab is searching for a missing genetically modified sheep. All this action is set against a backdrop of Hollywood-style cinema, which ties in well with the issues of antiaging and immortality raised by the novel. After all, no one likes getting old, right? Especially if you’re an actor whose ability to get work depends largely on your looks.

To make it even more interesting, there is a subplot involving Fowler’s missing girlfriend Gwen. Kroese suggests enough hints to make the reader keep guessing. What happened to Gwen? Is Keane who he says he is? What led to The Collapse? The multiple mysteries presented make for a gripping read until the very end.

Kroese’s witty dialogue has always been a huge draw for me, and here are some illustrative quotes:

“It was never a good thing when a bad guy started quoting Nietzsche.”

“You’re breaking up, Banerjee,” said Keane. “We’re going through a tunnel.” He ended the call.

“Was that a good idea?” I [Fowler] asked.

“He was getting on my nerves,” said Keane. “Go through a tunnel if it makes you feel better.”

“Oh, she’s watering his plants all right,” said Keane.

“Congratulations,” I said. “That’s the worst euphemism for intercourse I’ve ever heard.”

“No,” said
Keane. “Intercourse is the worst euphemism for intercourse you’ve ever heard. Normal people call it
f*cking.”

One reviewer wrote that Sheep is a novel that “fires on all cylinders.” It is exactly that, an
enjoyable, humorous ride that keeps the reader on his toes until the very end.

Kroese’s The Last Iota,  a novel set in the same dystopian world as The Big Sheep, ties in well with Sheep and expands on its subplot.

April 19, 2017

(Note: this review originally appeared on www.bookclubbabble.com.)

I had never read any of Cornwell’s novels when I picked up a copy of Portrait of a Killer, her 2002 nonfiction investigative work on the Jack the Ripper murders. In Cornwell’s own words (as indicated in Sickert), she felt that she was called upon to investigate the Ripper murders, notwithstanding the fact that she was disturbed by what her research revealed. Ripper: The Secret Life of Walter Sickert is a follow-up to 2002’s Portrait, and discusses additional evidence and new insights on the life of Walter Sickert.

One caveat: Sickert is not for the faint of heart. If you drink up documentary forensic and investigative shows like I do, and you enjoy analyzing evidence, then you will be intrigued by this book. But be warned that it contains graphic photos of crime scenes and corpses, as well as descriptions of the modus operandi of different psychopaths, as illustrative of how Walter Sickert may have fit the profile.

The result of Cornwell’s research is a highly engaging investigative tour de force that leaves little doubt in my mind that Jack the Ripper was indeed famous British artist Walter Sickert. To be fair, Cornwell is not the only author who implicates Sickert in the Ripper murders, but she has certainly presented the most compelling evidence. Sickert reads like a novel, and I could not put it down. Cornwell recounts her team’s painstaking investigative work in great detail. The reader learns about mitochondrial DNA, stationery analysis, and many other investigative techniques.

Walter Sickert was a well-known and respected artist during the late 19th century. Indeed, he was an apprentice of American artist James McNeill Whistler, with whom he ended up having a tumultuous working relationship. Interestingly, Sickert also frequented the Whitechapel area of London, the scene of the murders attributed to Jack the Ripper.

Cornwell delves into Sickert’s life, using all available source material to determine whether Sickert would have fit the psychological profile of a psychopath. Interestingly, Cornwell was able to find out a good deal about Sickert’s early life. Sickert’s younger sister Helena Swanwick was a famous suffragette who wrote her autobiography, which includes memories of a young Sickert.

Cornwell describes occurrences that may have had something to do with the development of Sickert’s psyche. Sickert was brought up in Germany and, when he was five years old, his parents sent him to London to have surgery. Imagine the trauma of a five-year-old having surgery in a foreign country, without his parents, in the 19th century, with no anesthesia. Cornwell researched the hospital where young Sickert’s surgery was performed, the hospital employees, and sanitary conditions. She applies the same investigative detail to every facet of Sickert’s life.

Likewise, Cornwell analyzes Sickert’s behavior as an adult, and his relationships with friends and his three wives. For example, he did not spend much time with his first wife, Ellen. Consistent with the evidence presented by Cornwell, Sickert appeared to marry for money rather than love. Further, Sickert appears to always have been on the move, traveling between England and France and around England. In fact, Cornwell notes that his whereabouts for much of his adult life are difficult to pin down.

Cornwell points out that Sickert’s strange behavior was mostly written off by his contemporaries as the eccentricities of a genius artist. For example, Sickert was interested throughout his life in all things military, and “it was his habit to ask the Red Cross for the uniforms of soldiers who were disabled or dying.” It strikes me as odd, and illustrative of a lack of empathy, to ask for the clothes of someone who was dying but not dead yet. He apparently “thought nothing of appearing at the Red Cross hospital to sketch soldiers suffering and dying,” then asking them for their clothing.

Sickert contains additional, and even more troubling, examples of the artist’s strange behavior. Indeed, Cornwell indicates that, according to many of Sickert’s contemporaries, the artist appeared to have a dual nature. His friend, artist Marjorie Lilly, with whom he once shared a dwelling and a studio, described Sickert’s behavior as Dr. Jekyll assuming the “mantle of Mr. Hyde.”

Cornwell’s discussion of the forensic evidence, including traditional police work such as tracking the suspect’s whereabouts during the crimes, is fascinating. Her team tested the Ripper letters, i.e. those letters sent to Scotland Yard during the time the crimes were committed, for fingerprints and DNA. She examined an old guest book from a bed and breakfast in a place Sickert was known to frequent, and compared the book’s cartoon drawings with drawings in the Ripper letters. Her team examined the watermarks of stationery used by Walter Sickert and compared them to those used by the writer of the Ripper letters. The stationery comparison is, in my mind, the most compelling physical evidence in this case.

Cornwell discusses other crimes in and around London that were not officially attributed to the Ripper, but which were consistent with the Ripper murders. She notes that the Ripper may have been more prolific than originally thought.

Cornwell does an excellent job providing contemporary evidence in determining that Sickert appears to have had the motive and opportunity to commit these crimes. Further, as Cornwell concludes, Sickert’s behavior appears to have been consistent with the profile of someone who could commit these murders, especially regarding his apparent lack of empathy. The physical evidence (which I haven’t detailed here to avoid spoilers!) also strongly suggests Sickert’s involvement.

As Cornwell notes, Walter Sickert, if he was indeed the killer, was ahead of his time. Most disturbing is the fact that Sickert was apparently able to live a double life as a well-known Londoner hiding in plain sight, while surreptitiously perpetrating some of the most shocking murders in recent history.

If Patricia Cornwell had not felt compelled to investigate these horrible crimes, we may still be totally in the dark as to Jack the Ripper’s identity.