Schwartz , Richard B. Available for download now. Available to ship in days. Daily Life in Johnson's London Dec 15, Only 1 left in stock - order soon. Samuel Johnson and the New Science Dec 01, A Dean's Sobering Perspective Jan 18, Biggest City in America: Contemporary American Crime Fiction May 01, Temporarily out of stock. Samuel Johnson and the Problem of Evil Jun 01, A Preface to the Life by Richard B.
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Showing of 2 reviews. Top Reviews Most recent Top Reviews. There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later. Read this then ordered the other two Jack Grant books. Would like to have more novels from Mr. I enjoyed Jack Grant and the other characters. Plus the story was believable and flowed.
Amateurish attempt at a mystery. Was this self published? One person found this helpful. There's a problem loading this menu right now. Learn more about Amazon Prime. Get fast, free shipping with Amazon Prime. Get to Know Us. English Choose a language for shopping. A certain understated style. An artist of some sort, perhaps?
Proof of Purchase (The Jack Grant Mysteries): Richard B. Schwartz: lehawohybedu.tk: Books
The expression blandly neutral — although looking closely there is something a little unsettling in the gaze, a certain cold indifference. Courtesy of Fourth Estate. But for much of the past 15 years he has been absorbed in an extraordinary — and, frankly, improbable — quest. The identity of the man who was responsible for the horrific murders of five women in the East End of London over a nine-week period in remains one of the great mysteries in British criminal history.
But he is convinced he has solved it. Next week sees the publication of They All Love Jack: More than pages in length, it is the fruit of intense, one might say obsessive, dedication. Robinson lives with his wife Sophie in a 16th- century farmhouse set in a fold of gentle hills in the Welsh borders.
They have two children, Willow, 22, a musician, and Lily, 29, an actress. A small stream runs past the front door. Sheep graze on a hill rising behind the house. In the back garden there is a swimming pool that, he jokes, was paid for by Steven Spielberg Robinson wrote a script for a Spielberg project that became the film In Dreams. It has the air of having being lived in. There are shelves crammed with books, smattered with yellow Post-it notes; bound volumes of Victorian periodicals; stacks of photocopies; box files. But definitely not Jack the Ripper. He leans back in his battered swivel chair.
Now 69, he has the long, unruly greying hair of a s rocker, and the foxed, time-worn looks and louche manner of a slightly disreputable cherub.
Robinson does not own a computer. On the desk is the antique IBM Selectric on which he writes. He has five, which he uses in rotation; a man comes from Leicester to pick them up for servicing when they burn out. He shakes his head. More than books have been written about Jack the Ripper.
Suspects have ranged from Lewis Carroll and Walter Sickert, to a motley assortment of wayward surgeons, lunatics and disgruntled husbands. But we shall come to that later.
Robinson says he had no interest in Jack the Ripper, and even less in writing a book about the case, until a chance encounter in Over a drink, Skinner agreed that the Wallace case was indeed interesting, but far more compelling was that of Jack the Ripper. Robinson is not a historian; he is a dramatist, and a few months into his research, having read every book he could find on the subject, it was not the identity of Jack the Ripper that nagged at him. It was the behaviour of the man in charge of the investigation, the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, Sir Charles Warren.
On the night of September 30, , two women, Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes, were murdered within hours of each other on the streets of Whitechapel. They were the third and fourth women to have been murdered, and horribly mutilated, in the course of four weeks. The case of Jack the Ripper was already a cause of public alarm. But Charles Warren had not yet bestirred himself to visit the scene of the crimes. On that night, however, he rushed to the East End in the early hours of the morning — his priority, it seems, not to examine the bodies, but to inspect some graffiti scrawled on a wall in Goulston Street, close to where a bloodied apron belonging to Catherine Eddowes had been found.
Warren immediately ordered the words be washed off the wall. Is there any mileage there? As much as it is about uncovering the identity of the Ripper, They All Love Jack is a scalding critique of the hypocrisy at the heart of the establishment in Victorian England, and the role played in it by Freemasonry. The whole of the ruling class was Masonic, from the heir to the throne [Edward, Prince of Wales] down. It was part of being in the club.
Warren was an important cog in the Masonic wheel. He was a founder member of the Quatuor Coronati lodge, and an authority on Freemasonic history and ritual.
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As a young man he led an expedition to the Holy Land in , where he excavated under the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. But not only was Warren a Freemason. So too was Jack the Ripper. Warren would later explain that he had ordered the graffiti to be washed away to prevent an anti-Semitic riot. It is an explanation that Robinson says the world of Ripperology has largely accepted without demur. The graffiti was not anti-Semitic, but a message from the killer to Charles Warren that the Ripper was a brother Freemason.
So were at least two of the coroners, Wynne Baxter and Henry Crawford, who ruled on the murders; and at least three of the police doctors who examined the bodies.