Why do fiction writers think they have a leg to stand on in non-ficiton? Even better, why do forensic department secretaries think they have any right to think they are smarter than everyone in the past 115 years when it comes to criminal investigation? Who died and made Patricia Cornwell Sherlock Holmes?
Now, everyone is entitled to their opinion, and if she would like to investigate and draw her own conclusions....fine. Hell, even write a fictional retelling of the crimes and be the new Capote...maybe they'll make a movie about you someday.
The fact she starts off the book by dramatizing a nervous breakdown because she knows the Ripper's true identity just put a sour taste in my mouth. However, I was willing to give the book a try anyways because I was curious to hear her argument. Im not on like the 5th chapter, and I have blown dozens of bulletholes in her case thusfar. The fact that hundreds of people have literally spent their whole lives going over every microscopic detail in the case and have still not been able to agree on the legitimacy of much of the evidence, let alone the killer's identity means nothing to Cornwell. Handwriting analysis and a few licks on a postage stamp and she has it figured out. Nevermind if the letters are actually from the killer or not.... this guy painted a picture of Jack's bedroom. It must be him.
So, to toss out all debate of Ripperologists over the past 115 years, and declare beyond a shadow of a doubt that her proof is substantial, she has declared the case closed. Nevermind she can't write for crap either.
Anyone interested, don't waste your time on this book. Check out one of John Douglas's books instead. |