It’s not dystopia to think history will repeat itself.

It was as if the news itself wanted to reassure me. Even Jack the Ripper himself had reappeared as part of the greeting committee.

Lending my voice to a dedicated readership is a match made in heaven.

The city reeked of death, and the savages that resided within its imposing starkness existed in fear of their lives. They had been shocked by the recent bloody Whitechapel murders, as if starvation, disease, moral...

Perhaps this is the purpose of all art, all writing, on the murders, fiction and non-fiction: Simply to participate.

My book is extremely graphic. I make no apologies for it. But it is graphic only because I told the truth about what the Ripper did to his victims.

London, noisy, noisome, nattering London: aged, ageless, dignified, eccentric in her ways – seat of empire, capital of all the world; that indomitable grey lady of drab aspect but sparkling personality – was at her...

It was mild monsters like these that made Jack the Ripper go after young women, she decided: who could tolerate yielding the world to someone who behaved as if she had given birth to the...

How come they get to be gray-haired and still in love with each other, while Lilly tears out what’s left of my heart and dumps it into her Jill-The-Ripper shredder?