I wasn't sure what I was getting with this book, even though Mark Blacklock's multi-faceted novel had been on my wishlist for months! On the surface, I was impressed by the technique of combining the first person narrative of an infamously unreliable narrator - in the form of letters to the disgraced and deceased police detective George Oldfield - with police statements, expert witnesses, interviews, public appeals, short stories and poetry, which might even be based on real documents. The opening passage in stream of consciousness dialect is almost like a warning to the reader that this is far more than just a dry account of 'Wearside Jack', the man who convinced Oldfield and the police that the Ripper was from Sunderland. (Despite the emphasis on John Humble's guilt in prolonging the search and causing three more deaths, however, I think the police were primarily at fault for ignoring evidence to the contrary.)

I wanted to be better than I was than people thought I was. I was better than that I knew I was. I had a gift I could do his voice me in his voice. I knew him better then himself really and no one knew me. Never really talked to me never really asked me what I thought.

But did I enjoy reading the actual narrative? No, not really. Blacklock's skill at building a character who is unlikeable yet strangely sympathetic and also based on a real person, is staggering, and writing in Humble's idiosyncratic and informal 'voice' must have been a challenge, but I just wasn't drawn into the book beyond admiring the author's craft. Very clever, just not my style, I'm afraid. ( )