Ripper

By Amy Carol Reeves

“I felt hot breath on my neck, and, horrified, I knew that he stood behind me . . .” It’s 1888, and after her mother’s sudden death, Abbie is sent to live with her grandmother in a posh London neighborhood. When she begins volunteering at Whitechapel Hospital, Abbie finds she has a passion for helping the abused and sickly women there. But within days, patients begin turning up murdered at the hands of Jack the Ripper. As more women are murdered, Abbie realizes that she and the Ripper share a strange connection: she has visions showing the Ripper luring his future victims to their deaths—moments before he turns his knife upon them. Her desperation to stop the massacres leads Abbie on a perilous hunt for the killer. And her search leads to a mysterious brotherhood whose link to the Ripper threatens not just London but all of mankind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flux
• Release date: Apr 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9780738732701

Amy Carol Reeves

Amy Carol Reeves has a PhD in 19th century British Literature and a master’s degree in British Literature from the University of South Carolina. She became entranced by the idea for Ripper, her debut novel, after meeting Donald Rumbelow, a world-recognized expert on Jack the Ripper. Reeves is currently an adjunct professor at the University of South Carolina, and lives with her husband and two children in Columbia, S.C. For more information, visit her online at: AmyCarolReeves.com.

Book preview

PART I

I was weary of an existence all passive.

—Jane Eyre

One

London—August 1888

Damn."

If the pickpocket had taken anything other than that, I could have let it go. But not Mother’s brooch. I had to keep that.

Grandmother, in front of me and already stepping into the coach, heard the curse and clucked her tongue. Richard, her long-time servant, held the carriage door open for me. His eyes widened in exasperation.

Sorry, I’m so sorry, I gasped to him and to Grandmother before running after the soot-streaked boy. This pickpocket was a slick one. Even as he ran from me, I saw him snatch a pocket watch from an unwary gentleman. I would not have noticed the thievery if it had not been for my years in Ireland where I had learned to pay attention to any and every feather-brush from passersby. The brooch had been an easy catch, exposed as I clutched Grandmother’s stack of new purchases—all the shiny boxes with hats and beaded gloves.

Arabella! Arabella!

Grandmother’s voice rang out from the open window of her carriage. I would get a tongue-lashing from her later: Seventeen-years-old, Arabella! And running through the streets!

While I ran, I thought of the many times I had disappointed Grandmother since coming to live with her two months before. I thought of all the behaviors that she deemed necessary, of all the etiquette that she deemed proper. I had tried to comply, but most of her rules seemed nonsensical and as enticing as rotten fruit.

Focus, Abbie.

Running against the crush of late afternoon Knightsbridge shoppers, I was having difficulty keeping up with the boy. My heart pounded in my chest. He dashed across the Sloane Street intersection, and a carriage narrowly missed colliding with him.

"Stop, please stop!"

The boy continued, unhindered by my shouts, even quickening his pace. I ran faster, catching up with him a bit as we approached the corner of Hyde Park. I nearly overtook him there. But then I collided with a cluster of schoolchildren, and I lost sight of him.

Dizzied, I stopped and scanned the scene around me. Like a bloom, evening’s pink flush spread rapidly across the sky. Children and dogs ran within the park boundaries. Shop owners closed their doors. The cacophony of city shouts and street noises seemed to ring out louder just as church bells everywhere chimed the five o’clock hour. When I was about to give up, I saw the boy again, running fast past the Wellington Arch and straight into Green Park.

He continued east.

Stop!

Shouting was futile, and I paused, telling myself that this chase was foolhardy and useless.

But I knew I would keep going, even against my better judgment. The brooch was a material connection to Mother, one of the few items of hers that I had left.

I had to get it back.

The chase continued, and I dashed after him into the park.

The path was damp from a recent rain shower, and as we neared Buckingham Palace, the boy fell. I almost caught him, but he was up and running again just as I was about to grab his jacket collar.

As we ran along the Strand, I stumbled twice—splashing mud upon my skirt. We ran down several more streets and rather than tiring, I began to feel renewed energy. I bolted after him, nearly catching him once again as we passed St. Paul’s Cathedral, but then, I almost lost him among the cheesemongers’ stands within the Leadenhall Street Market.

With every passing block, we penetrated deeper into the East End.

I smelled the odor of the slaughterhouses. Crowds of barefoot children dashed in and out of workhouse alleys. Women, their mothers perhaps, positioned themselves under streetlamps for their nightly occupations.

At the base of a set of concrete steps, the boy suddenly stopped and turned around to face me. A large, worn brick building loomed behind him. A shiny, newly engraved sign that had been bolted neatly into the bricks caught my eye: Whitechapel Hospital for Women. Est. 1883.

I stopped, only a few yards away from the child.

I have money for you, I said quickly, worried that he might take off. Four crowns. You can have them. That brooch is worth nothing. I only want it back because it belonged to my mother. She’s dead now.

The child cocked his head, very serious about our exchange. He studied me from under his cap, and then I saw his gaze focus greedily on the coins on my palm. He wanted and needed the money. Now that I stood closer to him, I saw clearly his dirty, broken fingernails, that his cheekbones were too prominent for a boy in good health. I wondered what else he needed.

Are you hungry?

No reply. He was resolved to remain mute.

The sky darkened, and I knew I had to return home. It was a long way to Grandmother’s house in Kensington, and I worried that she might contact the police if she had not already.

Here, I said, taking one cautious step closer to the boy. Drop the brooch, and I’ll toss the coins to you in this purse.

I dropped the coins inside the purse and tightened the drawstring.

Deal?

He remained silent, but I saw agreement in his eyes; he dropped the brooch when I tossed the purse to him. As I stepped forward and stooped to pick the brooch up, I expected him to bolt down the street. Instead, he stood still, facing me.

Suddenly, I felt sucked into another place.

The boy, the brick building, the street, everything before me melted away. It was as if I had been sucked into a black cloud. Then some of the darkness dissipated, swirled away a bit as I envisioned burning candles. Torches. Dusky-robed figures chanting something in a foreign tongue. I could see no faces, but I saw a chalice in the hands of one of the figures.

Then I found myself once again in the street facing the boy.

What had just happened?

The boy stood where he was, but a glassy, sharp look had taken over his eyes.

Goodbye, dollygirl, he said before running away.

My heart pounded; I reeled and then steadied myself. The vision, the flash of change that had come over the boy, shook my core.

Shouts from a nearby pub and a mangy pack of dogs running past reminded me that I had to return home, but I felt frightened and physically exhausted from the chase.

A very large wagon stacked with wooden boxes rode past me—west. I hopped onto the back end, my limbs still trembling violently from my experience.

Two

While walking up the front steps of Grandmother’s grand house in Kensington, all of my alarm at the evening’s events faded momentarily as I prepared to face her wrath.

I chewed my lip. Perhaps, like my mother, I could be a governess. After tonight, I could not imagine Grandmother allowing me to live with her any longer. She would almost certainly send me away. Light blazed from every window of her house, and I pictured the fury that seemed to burn Grandmother from the inside out whenever I embarrassed her. This evening would be the last straw.

Richard opened the door for me. Relief washed over his face, lightening briefly the deep folds upon his cheeks. Miss Arabella is here, Madame!

There came no reply from the parlor, where I knew Grandmother would be; instead, I heard only the cracking of the fire in that little room.

I smiled guiltily at Richard. He raised his graying eyebrows in an expression of amusement and chastisement and embarked upon a gentle tirade: "Miss Abbie, your grandmother is very … put out. She has been waiting for you in great anxiety for the past several hours. She already has the police out looking for you. And you are most fortunate that Ellen has the evening off. Otherwise, you know the uproar she might have made about this."

Ellen, Grandmother’s other servant, had a little of the hysteric in her.

Richard helped remove my coat. "And you missed dinner. I will have to see about reheating some bread and pork. But that will be after I alert the police that you are home. Safe."

At that moment, I saw my reflection in the entrance hall mirror. Not only had mud splattered upon my dress, but it had somehow become streaked down my cheeks. My hair flared out in wild red coils. I looked insane, like a madwoman—a bustle-clad Medusa.

Thank you, Richard. And I am very sorry for the trouble I have caused for you. Please tell Grandmother that I’m going to go upstairs to make myself a little more presentable.

"An excellent idea, Miss Abbie," Richard said sharply. However, just before I turned to walk up the stairs, he caught my wrist. I grinned and, opening my fingers, showed him the brooch in my palm.

Triumphant, I whispered.

Richard smiled and shook his head.

After placing the brooch on my bedroom dresser, I began washing my face in the porcelain washbasin. I splashed my cheeks with the icy water and then, on a split-second urge, plunged my entire head into the bowl. The rush of water into my eyes, my nose, brought no stinging relief to me. So I surfaced. I stared at the brooch as I dried my hair and wondered if I was sane. The chase into the East End tonight had been foolish, and then the vision, and the child’s changed expression—that had seemed impossible. Perhaps I was losing my mind from my grief over Mother’s recent death. Her illness had been brief and terrible. I stifled a sob. Memories of her loomed like a giant prism distorting, even occluding, my thoughts.

The clock over the fireplace in my bedroom struck nine o’clock, and I knew that I would have to meet with Grandmother soon.

After changing my clothes, I walked downstairs to face her.

Grandmother sat near the heat of the parlor fire. Her back remained ramrod-straight while she stroked the belly of her pug, Jupe. In her hand, she held a small copy of Tenny­son’s poems.

As she glared at me over her spectacles, I could see the proud forbearance that Mother must have endured before she eloped with my poor father. Grandmother wore her gray hair pulled into a perfect geometric knot at the back of her head. Her side hair swooped neatly over her ears, though not low enough to cover the dangling pearl-

drop earrings.

Sit down, Arabella. She gestured toward the cushioned chair facing her. She had lectured me many times in the past weeks. But this would be different. Something stony tinged her voice, and I knew that I would only have to wait a few minutes before hearing her banish me for good from her house.

She sat silently, laying her book in her lap beside Jupe and staring at me.

Overwhelmed by both shame and fury, I glanced sideways into the flames.

I half-hoped for Grandmother’s dismissal; I had done nothing, felt nothing significant since coming here. It had all been hours of embroidering, card parties, and tea. And I knew that all of this life was purposed toward one point only—my eventual marriage. Then it would all be the same dance in a different household.

But instead of decreeing an instant dismissal, she said nothing. I waited. Then, after she picked up her teacup and took a deep swallow: "You know, Arabella, that in these past two months, I have been trying to save you."

From what?

"From what? She set her teacup down with such force that the tea splashed up, spilling over the rim and onto the side table. From yourself, Arabella Sharp, from your own naïvety, and … from your past."

Save me?

I began to feel incredulous as I realized what drove all of this. Grandmother was seeking atonement for her own sins. She had banished Mother nearly twenty years ago for eloping with my father, Jacque Sharp. This was a ferocious haunt to her now.

No, I thought disappointedly. She is not going to send me away.

I remembered facing Mother’s grave after her burial service, contemplating where I would go next. But then, in that Dublin graveyard, I had suddenly felt Grandmother’s hand, clawlike, upon my shoulder. Though I had never met Lady Charlotte Westfield, I instantly surmised her identity even under her full-mourning attire. Her aquiline nose protruded from under the dark crêpe veil; her poise remained undaunted by the falling rains. This woman was the stepmother in all of the fairy tales Mother told to me, the Fury in every myth. And I left that very day with her, for my new life in London.

Do you not understand the way things work? Grandmother continued. Your background is disgraceful. I have told everyone as little as possible about your mother’s life since she left me. Do you think I can tell anyone that she could barely make ends meet as a governess and that, after your father died, she moved you from town to town, always looking for some well-to-do family to pay her to give lessons to their young brats?

"But it was you, Grandmother, who refused to communicate with Mother anymore after she married my father. It was you who cut her off from … "

Enough! Grandmother raised her hand to silence me. I saw that she trembled.

"I have saved you from a life of poverty. I have offered you a clean start, another chance. If we keep your background quiet, you might marry well, and you just might become respectable. But if you run through the streets as you did today, you will destroy everything that I am trying to do for you."

Ingratitude. That was the other element to this lecture.

"You, Arabella, are completely ignorant of the way you must act in London. I do not even want to know where you ran to this evening. In fact, never tell me. But it was dangerous not only to your life, but to your reputation—which you must work harder than most to solidify. If anyone saw you … "

I began to feel suffocated, annoyed, and this did not go unmissed by Grandmother.

She glared at me pointedly, I have been debating whether or not to allow you to do something. But I am convinced that your blatant ingratitude and your unwillingness to display the dignity of your class demands that I permit it.

Jupe leapt off her lap, running from the room and the rising tensions.

"A longtime acquaintance of our family and a well-respected physician and surgeon, Dr. Julian Bartlett, has offered to give you a moral education of sorts. He has proposed that you be allowed to work with him in the charity hospital he founded. It is a place of refuge for women in trouble. Whitechapel Hospital, I believe it is called."

My heart thumped louder—the place where my chase with the boy had taken me!

"Dr. Bartlett wrote to me a few weeks ago, offering the opportunity for you. At first, I thought it out of the question. That area is unredeemable. For you to be in that hospital, caring for those women … pitiful though they are."

"Prostitutes, you mean? Most of the patients are prostitutes."

Grandmother’s face sharpened. Yes, Arabella. Therefore, you understand why I was completely opposed to the idea. But then, earlier this week, he wrote again, and Dr. Bartlett can be extremely persuasive. Furthermore, Violet and Catherine, when I brought up the issue at tea the other day, thought I should consider the prospect. They said that it is quite vogue for young women to do some charitable service for a period—even in such a district. They thought that it would, in fact, be good for your character.

For once, I appreciated Grandmother’s two Kensington neighbors. Lady Violet and Lady Catherine came to her house nearly every week for tea and cribbage. Their opinions weighed heavily with Grandmother, particularly their opinions regarding what was vogue.

My heavy thoughts slid away a bit when I considered the prospect of doing something. Ever since arriving at Grandmother’s house, I had felt entrapped within a glass globe. Though I could see the world outside, I had been forbidden from venturing beyond the too-solid walls. The barefoot children I had seen today reminded me of the outer world, and a need surged inside me to become active.

"The work, of course, will be extraordinarily distasteful. In fact, the work will be quite foul."

When am I to begin?

Dr. Bartlett wrote that you may begin whenever you wish. Her tone indicated to me that my reaction was not what she had desired. I am requiring that you work there for one week. After that, you may decide whether you want to continue or not. My hope is that you will see how fortunate you are, and what I have saved you from—poverty, possible destitution. With me, you can have leisure and the opportunity to cultivate all the graces that will help you run your own household someday.

Grandmother stared at me, hawklike. I could already tell that she questioned whether this opportunity would have the desired effects upon my character.

For once Arabella, you must follow my rules. You will not be allowed to enter or leave the hospital except in Dr. Bartlett’s carriage—which he has assured me that he will provide for you. Please obey me. I insist upon it.

Yes, Grandmother.

When it was time to go to bed, I kissed her forehead. As I bent over her, I smelled the lavender powder on her skin; her eyes hooked into my own, and I knew that I only poorly concealed my excitement about beginning work at the hospital.

Three

Only two days later, Dr. Bartlett’s carriage delivered me to the steps of Whitechapel Hospital for my first day of work. The building itself was old, sprawling, and yet puzzlingly solid, seemingly uncorrupted by the surrounding factories and traffic, by the mid-morning shouts of vendors and drunken East Enders. It stood as a symbol of order amidst all the busy slapdash of the streets.

But there was nothing orderly in the immediate interior of the hospital. The moment I entered the front doors, I felt almost overwhelmed by a blanket of odors—feces, ammonia, urine, acidic smells I could not identify—that descended upon me. The enormous first floor ward was positioned only a few feet away from where I stood. Children, some mere toddlers, ran throughout the ward. Pregnant women and women breastfeeding infants lay in beds only a few feet apart. Nurses, clothed in blue dresses and dirty pinafores, hurried about shouting at the children and attending to the women in the beds.

To my right, a narrow and grimy set of stairs twisted so sharply upward that I could not see the second floor landing. A stout nurse clothed like the others (with the exception that she wore an enormous crucifix around her neck) stormed down these stairs. She looked stressed, even angry, when she saw me.

Miss Arabella Sharp?

Abbie, please.

I heard footsteps descending the stairs behind her.

The Sharp girl is here, Dr. Bartlett! the nurse shouted over her shoulder.

Dr. Julian Bartlett was like no one I had ever seen before. He had an expression of detached nobility, reminding me of the illustrations of antique busts in Mother’s history books. With his white hair and trim beard, Dr. Bartlett could not have been less than sixty years of age, but his posture had no stoop, and his bearing was that of a much younger man. In one brief instant, he considered me with a blue-eyed gaze that was kind, cool, and penetrating all at once.

Ah, Miss Sharp! It is wonderful that you have arrived.

His voice made me think of silk. Of pearls.

Shall I find her something appropriate to wear? The nurse stared rudely at the dark dress I wore, borrowed from Ellen that morning.

Yes, of course, Sister Josephine.

When she left, Dr. Bartlett greeted me and inquired with perfect politeness about Grandmother’s health and my adjustment to London.

Let us walk up to my office. It is too difficult to talk amidst all this noise. I want to explain to you the business of the hospital, and, if you have no objections, I would like for you to shadow me today. Acceptable?

Perfectly. My chest tightened in both trepidation and excitement.

Dr. Bartlett led me up the stairs. Though not particularly tall, he possessed a towering poise, steely confidence, capability. I doubted that he faltered much in anything.

On the first floor, we keep the pregnant and postpartum women. The delivery area and nursery are at the back of that ward. We have a delivery nearly every day here, several deliveries on most days.

Where do the children on that floor stay?

Unfortunately, nowhere particular. At night, they sleep in their mothers’ beds or on any makeshift beds the nurses can locate. This is, of course, not at all an ideal situation, but they do not have anywhere else to go while their mothers are under our care. I would like to build onto that ward, to create some sort of children’s room, perhaps even a small school for them.

When do you think that might be possible?

We stepped aside for a nurse carrying a chamber pot down the stairs.

I have not the faintest idea. Money is always an issue here. Dr. Bartlett glanced sideways at me. The Whitechapel district is not a great priority to many.

Mother, in all of her descriptions of London—of the museums, Buckingham Palace, the main parks—had not failed to tell me about the East End. Forgotten, she had called it once, and I knew that her empathy for the district was more than the vogue and flighty sympathies endorsed by Grandmother and her friends.

When we reached the landing of the second floor, the atmosphere seemed quieter, not nearly as chaotic as the first floor ward. Dr. Bartlett explained that

Reviews for Ripper

[hrose2931 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Hmm, that description doesn't quite tell the whole story.Arabella, or Abbie as her friends call her, feels trapped in the Kensington high society her grandmother wants her to travel in and jumps at the opportunity to work at the hospital in Whitechapel. In fact, she spends as much time as possible there to escape the teas and gossip her grandmother insists she attend. And her mother and grandmother were estranged at the time of her mother's death. Her grandmother disowned Abbie's mother for eloping with a French poet. Abbie grew up in Dublin while her mother worked as a governess for various wealthy families. At first, the work is gruesome and some of the doctors and nurses don't think she's up to the challenge of the hard labor being the granddaughter of Lady Westfield. But, they don't know she's grown up on the streets of Dublin and lived a hard life in between her mother's governess jobs. She's an expert with a knife and gone without food at times for lack of money. She's not the privileged girl they expect and she proves not only invaluable but extremely intelligent and willing to learn. In fact, she has determined she wants to go to medical college. And her grandmother's friend that runs the hospital, Dr. Bartlett, has taken a special interest in her education and in her, treating her as an equal instead of just a woman, as many men would have in that day.But, then, patients from the Whitechapel Hospital start dying the day they are voluntarily released. Dying by the hand of a psychopathic murderer. I think we all know the Jack the Ripper stories so I won't go into the details. This story puts a different if implausible twist on who Jack the Ripper was, but it was an interesting story. I didn't realize this was a paranormal story until I was midway through but I feel a little dumb, visions should have clued me in. I also felt a little confused as I read, like maybe a little too much was going on. There was the Jack the Ripper killings, the romance (love triangle) and then another aspect that I won't mention because it will be a spoiler. And the paranormal story which didn't only include Abbie's visions. I didn't know what to focus on. It turned out that two of the storylines converged into one and the love triangle resolved easily so eventually things came together, but for a bit, I had too many names and tangents to try to remember what was going on.I liked Abbie, she was analytical and as she tells the story, she spoke in the cool calm tones of women of that day and social standing were required to. She reminded me of the women from a Jane Austen novel (not the silly ones). Even when she was scared out of her mind, she remained calm and able to focus and keep cool. Not me, I'd have run screaming and hollering, but I'm guessing that wouldn't be what a proper lady would do.William and Simon are two of the doctors at the Whitechapel Hospital that admire/desire Abbie. Mary Kelly works at the hospital, too. Abbie got her a job there. And then there are the infamous parties at Dr. Bartlett's home where his housemates reside, a professor of literature, a reverend and a scientist. And Bartlett's nephew Max who pops in and out of the house. Abbie finds herself intrigued by him but repelled by him as well.In all, I really enjoyed the story. It definitely wasn't trying to solve the Jack the Ripper murders with the paranormal twist to it, but I liked what Reeves added to the story. It was always to me a bit scary, with London being gloomy or dark or rainy. And those big old houses with their four stories and not enough people to fill them. Gothic, romantic, dangerous, and Jack the Ripper. All with a paranormal twist. What more could you ask for?? Right? HeatherI received a copy of this novel from the Publisher Flux through Net Galley. I appreciate them letting me read it. This in no way influenced my review.

[dnaej · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It's been a very long time since I liked a book so much, I've finished it in a day. This book was surprisingly suspenseful and interesting, considering I just picked it up from the library because of the title. I've always been a little fascinated with the history of Jack the Ripper, and I have read quite a few different takes on the mystery. I love the paranormal take Amy Carol Reeves uses in this book, and the cliffhanger on the end is quite enticing! The gradual plot development was perfect for the story as Reeves slowly releases different clues and tools of implications only to bring everything together towards the end in a nicely done denouement. Abbie is such a loveable character as she is a woman that can hold her own in a male dominated world. I'm very much looking forward to getting my hands on the next book, I'm sure it will be great as well!

First Line: "'Damn. If the pickpocket had taken anything other than that, I could have let it go.'" (3)
Last Line:"Au revoir." (343)

Quotes:
"I cynically observed that Scotland Yard seemed more interested in catching the murderer than in making sure women were safe from him." (110)

"'as I told you the other evening, I'm going to run away from here, elope. I write, and I'm going to be a writer somewhere, anywhere but here. how are you going to escape?'" (113)

"'You and I share a gift, Abbie. A remarkable gift. We are seers of things: past, present, sometimes future. We are some of the very few who possess this power. You can see things on your own, or see others' memories or visions as you did just now.'" (278)

[jami_leigh · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Plot: 4 stars
Characters: 4 stars
Style: 4 stars
Pace: 4 1/2 stars
Another book I snagged at BEA.
Definitely a unique twist on the Ripper legend, the blurb doesn't really suit it. The paranormal aspects are well balanced by some very visceral sensory descriptions, and it ends up feeling only slightly shoehorned in.

[clarasayre · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I haven't been writing reviews for books read lately, but I'm going to write a brief one for this book because a) I loved it and b) the author is an old college friend and I'm enormously proud of her.

Knowing Amy and reading her debut novel added so much depth to the book...particularly, her Jane Eyre quotes at the beginning of each part were so quintessentially her, it made me smile to read each one.

Mystery, intrigue, great character development, and a surprise ending added to my utter enjoyment of this novel. I can't wait to read the second one. As someone who usually doesn't enjoy cliffhanger endings, Amy answered enough questions to make the reader feel satisfied, but left enough hanging to assure continued reading of her series.

Thank you for your story, Amy...I am really looking forward to the next one!

[msjessie · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Is there any London figure more re-imagined, re-invented or rebooted than Jack the Ripper? I love Ripper novels, macabre as they might be. I've read several fiction and literature takes on the murders, and am always on the lookout for a creepy mystery revolving around his spree in the 1880s. Even the young-adult genre isn't free from multiple different versions of the serial killer; in addition to this soon-to-be published historical fiction, there is also another book version of the infamous monster penned by Stefan Petrucha, due out the beginning of March. The question I was most curious about during my read of Ripper was deciding whether or not Reeves version of the nightmare in human form succeeded on its own merit or whether it was a pale shadow of another version. While several parts of Ripper were quite diverting, creepy and fun, the strength of the novel rests on the mystery at the heart of it and the surprisingly strong and likeable main character of Arabella Sharpe.Abbie is 17, newly orphaned and at the mercy of ton-loving and strict grandmother. Unlike her society grandmother, Abbie is more concerned with doing what she wants than what society expects her to do. She's easily likeable, an obviously good egg, but not the most distinguishable main character/heroine I've ever come across. As the grand-daughter and ward of a titled noble, Abbie's non-traditional and nonconformist ways lead to repeated and heated confrontations with her elderly guardian, but damaged family history keeps the two together despite their differences. Abbie struggles throughout the book with more than just figuring out the culprit of the East End: the memory and legacy of her dead mother is an issue that Abbie fixates on, a marker by which she is constantly judging herself and finding herself wanting.Outside of Abbie, the cast is functional if not spectacular. I didn't walk away from reading Ripper with a new book-boyfriend or even a book-crush. One of the problems therein is that there is, of course, a love triangle at the heart of Abbie's romantic life. Even though I failed to believe the attraction to either male party, I have to admit it wasn't as much of a focus in the novel as I had initially feared. Both William and Simon do seem a bit too perfect to be real/believeable (Simon's manners and William's knowledge particularly) but, for once, they each appealed to unique and distinct aspects of Abbie's life. Simon represents the old life, the society, money and rules that Abbie has resisted for years, while William represents freedom, choices and the ability to determine her own rules. Both have their own strengths and weaknesses, and honestly, both would have clicked well with Abbie. While I will never be a fan of the love-triangle in a novel, especially YA novels, it is refreshing to read one where all parties have chemistry and a different appeal for the main character. It's not just a question of "who is hotter" or "Team [X]" but an actual decision Abbie must make with maturity, and hopefully, finality. No back-and-forth, wishywashy undecidedness between the two, thank you, please. Victorian London is the perfect backdrop for such a murderous and mysterious tale - a society rigidly controlled and mannered while a madman flouts all civil convention right in the face of the populace. It illustrates perfectly that no matter how refined the world becomes, there is always danger lurking unseen. I admit to being someone that is fairly easily creeped out - I have a low scare threshold - and Ripper honestly got to me a few times. While it wasn't the bonechilling, look-over-your-shoulder-every-two-minutes experience like I had with reading the English-set Long Lankin (dear christ, that is a creeeepy book) Ripper does quite well at continually building up tension in the atmosphere as Abby races to solve the mystery. The only thing that struck a discordant with the setting and location of this novel is that none of the characters' speech patterns, slang or dialogue felt authentically 19th century London, All of which read like very modern (American?) English, and ruined any 1880's vibe the rest of the story carried.One of the problems I had while reading this, is that the author tends to spell out emotions and character's inner feelings instead of showing them. Phrases like, "I could tell by Grandmother's demeanor that she respected Simon and seemed particularly fond of him, " abound instead of allowing Grandma Charlotte to show such herself. I also found the addition of the supernatural elements to be lacking: no reason is provided for why Abbie gets them, where they come from, or if they're just connected to the Ripper. It's odd that the fantasy element is so vague when the rest of the novel is a straight-forward historical fiction; I wish more effort had gone into explaining how the talent will relate to Abbie's life. Though I was disappointed by areas of this historical fiction, I would read another novel by this author featuring these characters. The ending, though a bit rushed in comparison to the pace of the bulk of the book, was action-packed and thoroughly satisfying. While some of the murderer's motivations are on the thin side of things, there's more good than bad in Amy Carol Reeves novel.

[shellypya · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

After Abbie's mother dies, she's sent to live with her grandmother in London. She begins volunteering at Whitechapel Hospital, and enjoys helping the sick women, most of whom are prostitutes. Soon, however, patients begin turning up murdered by Jack the Ripper, and Abbie discovers she has visions linking her to him.

[twehking · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

"Ripper" by Amy Carol Reeves is a great fun read, but the accuracy of historical facts is way off. This fictional account of one young woman's encounters with Jack the Ripper is a suspenseful story that I enjoyed as long as I suspended my belief. A girl of that age would never be allowed to go to a dinner party composed of nothing but adult males without a chaperone for one. Read this book purely for entertainment and not any facts about Jack the Ripper or that time period.

[ahandfulofconfetti · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

3.5/5 stars.After her mother's sudden death, Arabella "Abbie" Sharp is brought to London to live with her grandmother. When it's decided that Abbie needs something to help her better appreciate her life of leisure, she's sent to volunteer at Whitechapel Hospital. Little does anyone know that Whitechapel is about to become a dangerous place: for it's 1888, and Jack the Ripper has just started his murdering spree....This was a thoroughly engrossing read, and a solid mystery. I enjoyed the author's take on Jack the Ripper; the whole time you're wondering who is responsible, when he'll strike again, and who will be his next victim. Abbie was a very headstrong girl, and I very much enjoyed reading this story from her point of view. There were some very unique things done with this story, especially in the way the author used Abbie's story to weave her idea of the Ripper and his crimes.I also enjoyed the secondary characters: William and Simon, the two doctors Abbie is drawn to, Sister Josephine, the stern but caring nurse, Mary, the Irish immigrant trying to find a better life for herself, etc. I felt like they were all fairly fleshed out, and I enjoyed the glimpses of their back stories, and Abbie's growing relationships with all of them.As for the dealings with Jack the Ripper, they were, quite frankly, really creepy at times, especially when Abbie finds herself in close proximity to them. I will say that there's a bit of a paranormal aspect to this book in terms of Abbie herself, but won't say anything else to avoid spoilers. What I WILL say is that the story of Jack the Ripper was done in a really creative way, with a bunch of plot twists and turns I didn't see coming. As I said above, the mystery aspect of this was really solid.I hadn't realized that this book sets itself up for a sequel, but the ending made that quite apparent. It wasn't cliff-hangery so much as very open-ended, but there are some definite threads of the story that have yet to be sewn up. I'm definitely looking forward to the next installment.An e-galley of this title was provided to me by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

[pabkins · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I love a bit of gore in my reading. – who doesn’t? I was foaming at the mouth to read Ripper as soon as the book/description hit my radar. There was a great balance to this book that I’m sure paranormal fiction fans will enjoy (even those with a tender stomach may still enjoy it). In all honesty it really wasn’t gorey. Ripper gives you Amy Carol Reeves’ take on the story of Jack the Ripper along with all of it’s mystery, an intriguing dash paranormal elements and just enough but not too much romance on the side. Perhaps even a few thriller moments.

Reeves’ heroine Abby is not your typical ‘lady’ – and definitely not the one her Grandmother wishes her to be. She tires of endless days of embroidery, tea, sitting around reading quietly or visiting, all the while expected to be prim and proper. She longs for something more. To be active. Activity is just what she gets when her Grandmother recommends that she perform volunteer work at White Chapel, a hospital for women in a seedy part of the city. What Grandmother sees as somewhat of a punishment for Abby’s rebellious nature, Abby views as blessing. She is strong willed and unused to the sedentary life of the rich.

Ripper definitely had a nice smooth pace for me, easily moving from one scene to the next. Each event no matter how small it seemed still held my interest and Reeves’ did well to set the tone of the book by starting off with a chase between her and a pickpocket…where their encounter ends with just a enough of a feeling that something unusual has just happened. I felt all of the people Abby meets has a presence and implied importance that didn’t make me discount any of them.

One thing I did note was each time she met a male character there seemed to be a lot of “eye action” going on between them. I have to admit this made me smirk a bit thinking, more eye oogling? (example “arrested me with his eyes, penetrating eyes,” etc) – but I think it was good that it was there. It keeps you guessing. I knew there was going to be a romantic element somewhere and thought she did a very good job at keeping you guessing as to who ‘the man’ would be…as well as making you wonder – could he be the Ripper? I liked it that I didn’t feel like I knew who was going to be important or a villain until much farther into the book.

The action definitely increases immensely at the end, though there wasn’t as much “action” throughout the book the mystery is what keeps you turning the pages til you get to the action/climax. It was definitely worth the read and recommend it.

I didn’t realize until the end of Ripper that another book was likely to follow. When I discovered from the author’s twitter feed that there definitely is a second book – titled ‘Renegade’ I was super excited. I am aching to know what becomes of Abby and various other characters (I won’t name names or that might give you undue hints! It will be very interesting to see how Reeves’ continues the story as I’m pretty confident the ‘Jack the Ripper’ part of the tale is done – so what could she possibly have in store for us next?

[darkfaerietales_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Review courtesy of Dark Faerie Tales.brotherhood whose link to the Ripper threatens not just London but all of mankind.Quick & Dirty: Great intense story with a wonderful heroine and a great plot line.Opening Sentence: “Damn.” If the pickpocket had taken anything but that, I could have let it go.The Review:Arabella Sharp has just recently moved to London to live with her Grandmother. Her mother passed away suddenly and her father died when she was very young so she really had nowhere else to go. She had never met her grandmother before her mother’s funeral, because her mother had eloped and her grandmother had disowned her. Abbie’s mother was a governess and she grew up comfortable, but never really wealthy. Her grandmother is a very wealthy women and she would love nothing more than to see Abbie marry well and live a very comfortable easy life. But to Abbie that would be boring and a waste of her time. Her grandmother offers her a compromise by giving her the options to work at a hospital where one of her dear acquaintance works. Whitechapel Hospital is in a bad part of town but she feels that Abbie could really learn a lot and see how great her life really is.Abbie loves the idea and can’t wait to get started. She becomes a nurse and tries to help the doctors in whatever way she can. She finds the medical field fascinating and hopes to one day also attend medical school. Shortly after starting at the hospital Abbie starts to have visions. There have been some gruesome murders happening to some of the recently discharged patients from Abbie’s hospital, and Abbie is seeing these murders before they happen. They are calling the murderer Jack the Ripper and Abbie needs to figure out what is going on before anyone else is killed. She doesn’t know why she is getting these visions or what connection she has to the murders, but if she doesn’t figure it out soon she could be next.Abbie Sharp is a wonderful heroine. She is very strong and independent. She has the option to live a very comfortable life as a wealthy wife and mother, but instead she chooses to do something more with herself. She really loves the medical field because she can help others while learning and growing as a person. There are a couple of love interests in the book, but I really liked that Abbie was an interesting character with or without a boy. She could stand on her own and didn’t need anyone else to make her likeable. She was very easy to connect with and I thought that the author did a wonderful job with her character.William Siddal is a young physician working at Whitechapel. Abbie meets him on her first day there and she can’t help but find him very handsome, but very arrogant as well. William is a complex character he was raised by a famous writer and author that had a pretty obscure lifestyle. He is closed off to most people and comes across as a jerk. But when you peel back his layers he really is a sweet guy that cares deeply about the people he is tiring to help. When Abbie gets to know him better she breaks through some of his walls and gets to see his good vulnerable side. He really is all wrong for Abbie in so many ways, but at the same time he is perfect for her.Simon St John is another young physician working at Whitechapel. While leaving from work Abbie trips on the stairs and he happens to catch her before she falls. He really is like a knight in shining armor. He grew up in a very wealthy family, but has tried to better himself by becoming a doctor. He is very caring and shows it by how he treats all of his patients. He is beautiful and pretty much perfect for Abbie in every way, but she just doesn’t know if she could ever love him. She values his friendship very much, but she doesn’t know if their relationship could ever go past that.I really enjoyed this book. First of all, it is set in London in the 1800’s which is one of my favorite settings for a book. Then you add murder, romance, suspense and a great cast of characters it really doesn’t get much better. There are some pretty intense parts of the book but nothing too scary. It was fast paced and really kept me interested the whole way through. I will admit that the plot was fairly predictable, but I still enjoyed it immensely. This is the first book in the series and I can’t wait to read the next installment which lucky for me I happen to have a copy. I would highly recommend this book to anyone that likes mystery or paranormal books.Notable Scene: Then I found myself standing in a dead-end alley at nighttime. I smelled rotting meat-some type of spoiled beef and fish from the cluttered trash piles of the alleyway. A cat leaped from one of the piles, sending an ale bottle rolling loudly across the flagstone ground.That’s when I heard the scraping noise, from high on the wall at the end of the alley. I looked upward and saw a shadow moving through the darkness. I felt rising terror; I could not move.The figure of a man crawled down the bricked wall. His movements were unhurried, even-paced-the scraping noise I had heard was his fingernails and boots upon the bricked surface. With each crouching movement, he came closer to the ground. I tried to run, but the rotting meat smell became overwhelming. The nausea and fear overwhelmed me and I felt paralyzed.His head was almost to the ground when he looked up at me, and though I could see very little in the darkness, I saw the flash of a smile and a knife blade clenched between his teeth. There was something serpentine about his movements as he crawled downward, defying gravity, and yet I knew that he was a real human being closing in for a kill.FTC Advisory: Flux Publishing provided me with a copy of Ripper. No goody bags, sponsorships, “material connections,” or bribes were exchanged for my review.

[pollywannabook · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Review courtesy of All Things Urban FantasyAmy Carol Reeves’s RIPPER brings a supernatural twist to one of the most famous serial killers to come out of London. A lot of the story takes place in the Whitechapel Hospital and here we see allusions to the murders before they happen in the story with a lot of historical details from the original Ripper cases including victim names, body discovery, and even authentic recounting of the dismemberment. This foreshadowing combined with the fact that one of the real theories is that Ripper was a doctor helped to increase the sense of foreboding and dread I felt while reading. I was suspicious of any doctor in Whitechapel Hospital which ended up being at least half of the secondary characters which wonderfully amped up the suspense and mystery.While I enjoyed the unique story surrounding the Ripper murders I had issues with the paranormal aspects. Abbie has visions of the murders before they happen. We are given little reasoning for why Abbie has these visions besides a possible genetic link, and they didn’t do much to help that couldn’t have been done through non supernatural means. I felt RIPPER could have been just fine without the supernatural elements and been categorized as historical fiction instead of anything paranormal.Visions aside, Abbie is a smart, resourceful, determined character but even knowing that she grew up on the mean streets of Dublin, I was baffled at her ability to fight. She seemed to be able to brutally fend off multiple grown men which, unless there was some hidden supernatural strength that came with her visions, didn’t make logical sense.Overall, RIPPER did a good job exploring one of the most heinous unsolved crime sprees in history. It was creepy and suspenseful and kept me on my toes especially when Abbie got closer to discovering the true identity of Jack the Ripper. I really liked the focus on the horror and the mystery to identify the Ripper but felt the story could have been better without the supernatural elements. Sexual Content:N/A

[psteinke1122_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

It’s 1888 in London. Arabella Sharp, having recently lost her Mother and only parent, has moved in with her Grandmother and only living relative. Abbey’s grandmother is concerned about her impulsive nature so she sends her to work at Whitechapel Hospital, which is run by an old family friend. While working at Whitechapel Hospital, Abbey discovers a love and aptitude for medicine…she also loves working with the patients. But when patients start dying shortly after their release from the hospital, everyone starts to wonder if Jack The Ripper maybe an employee. Abbey’s impulsive and curious nature lands her right in the middle of the investigation…but will she just be another victim of the Ripper?GREAT story! I love books that take historical events and create stories around them. And this one is a thrill-a-minute. Abbey tends to rush headlong into the fray first and ask questions later. This is how she ends up being “punished” by being sent to Whitechapel Hospital. It’s Grandmother’s hope that if Abbey sees how the women (poor, indigent, prostitutes) at Whitechapel are, maybe Abbey won’t be quite so impetuous. Well frankly I think it would have been easier for Grandmother to change a leopard’s spots!Abbey is so bright and inquisitive…she is immediately treated as though she belongs and is given full access to all parts of the hospital. It is her nature to nurture and help out where ever possible, and that is why everyone seems to fall for her…including very handsome doctors! One comes off as gruff and arrogant…the other comes from a family like Abbey’s and is the epitome of propriety. The two doctors are like gasoline and a match and Abbey is just the friction needed to set off the explosion. Then a third guys comes on the scene…a nephew to Dr. Bartlett…this is when life gets interesting. Max is mysterious and there is something wild about him. He appears, sometimes seemingly out of thin air to taunt Abbey and disappears just as mysteriously.The writing is fast paced, this was a roller coaster ride…Abbey grabs hold and goes at break-neck speed all the way to the end and it’s a ride you need a little time to recover from…my favorite kind of read! I thought, going into chapter 5 that I could predict what was going to happen…I wasn’t even in the same ballpark! The identity of the Ripper didn’t surprise me as much as other things. Great twists and turns that I really didn’t see coming until it was too late! I can’t wait to get a copy to a friend who loves anything “Jack the Ripper” related…she’ll love this!

[theepicrat · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

History at its most sensational and lurid form, RIPPER follows Arabella as she becomes intertwined with the brutal serial murders against all better judgment. Instead of sticking to her upper crust grandmother’s plans for snagging a good marriage, Abbie gets too involved with her volunterring at the Whitechapel Hospital and uncovers some dark secrets about the physicians there. Should she trust a handsome face with some pretty manners or the fatherly figure who encourages her to pursue the medical profession? Between late nights at the hospital and grisly unpredictable precognitions, the last thing Abbie needs is to turn down the wrong alley and bump into the wrong person at the wrong time for the worst possible reasons.I find it hard to pinpoint my feelings for RIPPER. On the one hand, the time flew by as I wanted to find out what exactly Abbie was getting herself into at Whitechapel Hospital. Alleys drenched in blood and guts, secret societies wanting the unattainable, a woman testing her boundaries to expand her knowledge, RIPPER seems to have everything going for it – even a love triangle with two equally attractive men. Then again, while the pages flew, I cannot say that I was left with that WOW feeling at the end. It was more like a hmmm…? as if the story should have had a teensy bit more to really spice things up. The sense of dread, while present, never seemed to reach that boiling point where everything bubbled over to where I started frantically rushing through pages to see if the mess would right itself. RIPPER was good and enjoyable as it stands, but I think it needed something extra – whether it be more tension, more action, more horror, more drama – to really throw me into a deeper and darker rabbit hole.