the horror that happened - Jack the Ripper Victims Series by Alan M. Clark

These stories are not only meant to appeal to those interested in the horror that was the Autumn of Terror, but also those interested in the struggles of women in the 19th century. They are well-researched, fictional dramatic stories meant to help readers walk in the shoes of the victims and give a sense of the world as each of the women may have experienced it.

Description:

Alan M. Clark’s Jack the Ripper Victims Series is comprised of five novels, one for each of the canonical victims of the murderer. These stories are not only meant to appeal to those interested in the horror that was the Autumn of Terror, but also those interested in the struggles of women in the 19th century. They are well-researched, fictional dramatic stories meant to help readers walk in the shoes of the victims and give a sense of the world as each of the women may have experienced it. The timelines for the stories run mostly concurrently, so it doesn’t matter in what order the books in the series are read. They are simultaneously drama, mystery, thriller, historical fiction, and horror. They are novels concerning horror that happened. 

A Brutal Chill in August 

The First Victim of Jack the Ripper

Published: December 7th, 2019 

We all know about Jack the Ripper, the serial murderer who terrorized Whitechapel and confounded police in 1888, but how much do we really know about his victims?

Pursued by one demon into the clutches of another, the ordinary life of Mary Ann "Polly" Nichols is made extraordinary by horrible, inhuman circumstance. Jack the Ripper's first victim comes to life in this sensitive and intimate fictionalized portrait, from humble beginnings, to building a family with an abusive husband, her escape into poverty and the workhouse, alcoholism, and finally abandoned on the streets of London where the Whitechapel Murderer found her.

With A Brutal Chill in August, Alan M. Clark gives readers an uncompromising and terrifying look at the nearly forgotten human story behind one of the most sensational crimes in history. This is horror that happened.

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   Author’s Note

A Chill in London

This is a work of fiction inspired by the life of Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols, a woman believed to be the first victim of Jack the Ripper. For purposes of storytelling, I have not adhered strictly to her history and I have changed the names of the principal characters subtly. I have assigned to my main character emotional characteristics and reactions that seem consistent with her life and circumstances. This novel is not primarily about Jack the Ripper, but is instead about Mrs. Nichols’s survival within the increasingly difficult and dangerous social and economic environment of London, England between the years of her birth, 1845, and that of her death, 1888.

The summer of 1888 had been a chilly one. In suburbs of London, snowfall had been reported in the small hours of the morning on July 11. Since the cataclysmic eruption of the Indonesian volcano, Krakatoa, which had thrown fine ash high into the atmosphere five years earlier, the climate in the northern hemisphere had been significantly cooler.

In London, a cold-blooded killer would soon begin the work for which he’d be known. What we don’t know is how selective Jack the Ripper was in choosing his victims, whether he acted spontaneously or was attracted to prey with certain traits. The five canonical victims were women. They were impoverished. Each of them had engaged in prostitution. Most were in their forties. Perhaps all were alcoholics. All of these traits were to be found in his first victim, Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols.

On the night of her death, August 30/31, a Thursday night and a Friday morning, the temperature in London hovered around 50 degrees Fahrenheit. The social chill in the city that followed would be much worse, as the police were powerless to stop the killer and the murders continued into the autumn with at least four more victims.

To understand the extraordinary furor in London over the Ripper killings, one must know something about the frequency and variety of death that already occurred within the Whitechapel area of the time. The murder rate was quite low. Disease took most lives at a younger age than today. The rate of industry-related deaths (violent accidents or chemically induced) was quite high, as was the suicide rate and the infant mortality rate (at least 30%, but probably closer to 50% died before the age of 5). The average human being had an expected life span of around forty years. Many prostitutes were brutalized and much violent crime occurred during the years between 1887 to 1889, yet few who died were seen to be murders. Perhaps this is attributable to the desire of authorities to keep quiet about the crime rate during a time of swift economic change and social upheaval. Whatever the case, the violence characteristic of the Ripper killings, with multiple stabbings and apparent sexual degradation of the victims suggesting piquerism on the part of the killer, certainly surprised the citizens of London.

The city’s East End was filled with the poor, many of them immigrants. Most suffered under a class system that maintained a sharp division between the haves and have-nots. Due to the resentment this naturally caused, the idea that the killer might be a gentleman slumming in Whitechapel and killing for pleasure was not unbelievable to many in the lower class. Within the upper classes, many believed the lower classes were spoiling for a rebellion, and saw the murders as just another indication of the moral corruption of the denizens of the East End.

Fear on the streets resulting from the Ripper murders became so powerful that groups among all classes began to fight against it. Although many weren’t in agreement over the causes of or solution to the outrage, the conversation or argument that followed helped bring attention to the sad conditions in which people lived within the city’s East End. Their anger became a hot response to the chill in London in the summer of 1888, one that ignited a fire that slowly brought change to the city.

As we continually face questions about the worth of those with little versus those with much, the banked coals of that fire ignited in London in 1888 still smolder.

Likely, Mrs. Nichols would have been surprised to learn of the history that flowed from the moment of her death. Like many throughout history, she had a simple life, but not one without controversies and drama. As with all of our stories, simple or complex, rich or poor, it’s the emotional content and context that counts.

—Alan M. Clark

Eugene, Oregon

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Apologies to the Cat's Meat Man

The Second Victim of Jack the Ripper

Published: June 9th, 2017

This novel is part of the Jack the Ripper Victims Series. Each novel in the series is a stand-alone story.

Annie Chapman led a hard, lower class life in filthy 19th century London. Late in life, circumstances and and her choices led her to earn her crust by solicitation. After a bruising brawl with another woman over money and a man, she lost her lodgings and found herself sleeping rough. That dangerous turn of events delivered her into the hands of London's most notorious serial killer, Jack the Ripper.

Contrasting her last week alive with the experiences of her earlier life, the author helps readers understand how she might have made the decisions that put her in the wrong place at the wrong time

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  Author’s Note—Historical Terror: Horror that Happened

In September1888, after the brutal murders of Martha Tabram and Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols in August, how did Annie Chapman reasonably persuade herself to walk the streets of London’s East End looking for a stranger to pay her for sex? Seeking an answer to that question was in part my purpose in writing Apologies to the Cat’s Meat Man.

The novel is a work of fiction inspired by the life of Annie Chapman, a woman believed to be the second victim of Jack the Ripper. I made an effort to stick to what is known about her, yet for purposes of storytelling, I did not adhere strictly to her history, in part because much of her life is obscured by the relative anonymity she had in her time. I have assigned to my main character emotional characteristics and reactions that seem possible and consistent with her life and circumstances.

To be clear, the novel is not about Jack the Ripper. The Jack the Ripper Victims series, of which Apologies to the Cat’s Meat Man is the fourth book, is not about the killer. Instead, each of its novels explores the life of a different victim. The books in the series can be read in any order, as each is a stand-alone account, their timelines overlapping.

For me, history is stories, perhaps more fact-based than fiction, but stories nonetheless. Good tales are driven by emotion. Following the emotional motivations of characters is compelling for me, as I think is true for most people. When the motivations are a mystery, such as those surrounding a horrible crime, I want to make sense of them. I want order in my world, and with horrible crimes, the acts by disturbed individuals and sometimes their victims hang out there in time, niggling for answers. Part of the puzzle that wants answering is context. How could that person do such a thing? What made their actions seem reasonable to them? Answers lie within the person's time and circumstances, the world as he or she knew it and how that individual in particular responded to the comforts and stresses within interpersonal relationships and environment.

History, sufficiently remote, but somewhat familiar, like the Victorian era, makes for interesting story context for me because I know something of that world. Remnants of that time still exist today, and I have communicated with family members who grew up close enough in time to the period that they knew something of the constraints and opportunities of life then. That era seems slightly alien and a little exotic. I also find I have a borrowed nostalgia for simpler times in which the people seemed to have had a naive innocence. Of course, that is a product of my complacency.

We’re basically the same creatures we’ve been for thousands of years, with all the same emotions. What stimulates those emotions varies for all of us, yet we’re good at interpreting and understanding others’ moods within the context of their experiences.

When stories of times past hold situations sufficiently developed that the complexity of human emotion is revealed, that supposed innocence of a “simpler time” vanishes. Suddenly, understanding the historical and emotional context, the characters are no longer quaint and simple. I am right there with them, having some understanding of their motivations.

Through the research and writing of historical fiction novels, I must use my imagination to project myself into another place and time. In the midst of the effort, I feel like I’m engaged in time-travel. My wife often asks about that far off look in my eyes when I'm in the middle of a several-months-long project involving historical fiction. We might be at the grocery store or the post office at the time. Little does she know that I'm not actually standing next to her in those moments.

—Alan M. Clark

Eugene, Oregon

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Say Anything But Your Prayers

The Third Victim of Jack the Ripper

Published: June 11th, 2017

This novel is part of the Jack the Ripper Victims Series. Each novel in the series is a stand-alone story.

An imaginative reconstruction of the life of Elizabeth Stride, the third victim of Jack the Ripper. 

The beast of poverty and disease had stalked Elizabeth all her life, waiting for the right moment to take her down. 

To survive, she listened to the two extremes within herself--Bess, the innocent child of hope, and Liza, the cynical, hardbitten opportunist. 

While Bess paints rosy pictures of what lies ahead and Liza warns of dangers everywhere, the beast, in the guise of a man offering something better, circles ever closer.

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Author’s Note—The Ripper’s London

This is a work of fiction inspired by the life of Elizabeth Stride, a woman believed to be the third victim of Jack the Ripper. For purposes of storytelling, I have not adhered strictly to her history. I have assigned to my main character emotional characteristics and reactions that seem consistent with her life and circumstances. I’ve addressed puzzling events in Elizabeth Stride’s life, and a mysterious confusion that occurred during the coroner’s inquest into her murder concerning her identity.

To be clear, this novel is not about Jack the Ripper. The series itself is not about the killer. Instead, each novel in the series explores the life of a different victim.

I wrote this note in the month of October, a time for scary fun. I truly enjoy the cute horror of Halloween and a good, over-the-top zombie film, yet as one who has always been intrigued by the dark and disturbing, as a practitioner in the horror genre, a professional writer for almost two decades, and an illustrator for almost three, sometimes that sort of fun scare falls flat. My interest has been drawn over time to the real horror of history and the lessons to be learned from it.

Long ago, when I first learned of Jack the Ripper and the murders associated with the killer, I was, as most everyone is, intrigued by the endless speculation about who he might have been (I use male pronouns when referring to him merely because of the name Jack; though we don’t know the gender of the Whitechapel Murderer). The more I read about the murders and the various theories, the less interested I was in the killer and the more intrigued I became with the environment in which the murders took place. As I learned more about Victorian London and how rapidly it changed due to the industrial revolution, the more interesting I found the lives of those who lived there at the time. Although I couldn’t learn much about the killer, I could gain some knowledge of the five female victims. Potentially, there are more than five, but those considered canonical victims are Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes, and Mary Jane Kelly.

Coroner’s inquests were held to determine the cause of death for each of the women. The inquiries are essentially trials, with juries and witnesses to help make a determination about the manner of a victim’s demise. The verdict in each of the five cases was "Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown."

The words, actions, movements, and motivations of each of the women are most clearly known to history closest to the time of their deaths because of the testimony of the witnesses called during the inquests. In some cases, such as that of Elizabeth Stride, the last couple of hours were recounted in detail, and in other cases, such as that of Catherine Eddowes, we have a good idea what she did within several days of her death. The farther we go into the past away from the hour of their deaths, however, the less detailed and the more generalized is the information about them. Within the few years prior to their deaths, all five had suffered real hardship—all had engaged in prostitution to survive, most, if not all, had been active alcoholics, and most had spent time in the dehumanizing workhouse system.

In Victorian England, the Industrial revolution had led to large-scale unemployment, much the way the Tech Revolution has done in America today. Victorian London, much like large American cities today, suffered from overcrowding and large numbers of homeless.

We can see a modern reflection of the victims of Jack the Ripper in the homeless of twenty-first century America. Much of the cause of that homelessness went unseen in Victorian times, as it does now. With the rise in the numbers of the homeless, then as now, people had a tendency to shy away from the problem.

My natural inclination is to avoid knowing why so many people are hungry and without shelter. I want to look away, and I don’t want to look away. My experience is that many people are just as ambivalent. Many of the homeless are intoxicated much of the time or begging for the means to become intoxicated. I can easily become disgusted with the endless need of the addicts among the homeless. I could justify my righteousness by blaming their lack of hygiene, and their crimes of desperation. However, I am a sober alcoholic and expect myself to have compassion for them, even when it doesn’t come naturally. There, but for providence, go I.

Although I avoid those who are clearly intoxicated, on occasion I’ve asked someone begging on the street for their story. Most aren’t good at telling a story, perhaps because they are rarely asked to tell one. Even so, from what they say, I always get the sense that they have had happier times, that they have capabilities, and that they have aspirations involving their own personal interests and those whom they love.

Worse than the surface irritation of having to deal with a person who might be slovenly, dirty, inconvenient, or in-my-face is the emotional stress of considering the plight of an unfortunate person. My immediate response is to want to look away. I speak of my experience to take responsibility for my reactions, yet I’m not alone. We find it easy to scorn the beggars on the streets and then project that disdain on all homeless people, further isolating them. As a result, the down and out are less likely to find help when in danger. If they are seriously harmed or killed, fewer people step forward to try to find out what happened. Those who prey upon the homeless more easily get away with their crimes. The same was true for the down and out of Victorian London.

What events in the lives of the five Jack the Ripper victims led to their demise on the streets of London? How much of the way they lived was a result of the choices they made? What was beyond their control? Were they chosen at random by their killer, or did he choose them because he knew that fewer people would step forward to find out what happened to them? We don’t have good, solid answers to these questions.

My impression is that their choices had something to do with securing their wellbeing, however, much of their existence was beyond their control. The environment of London itself was a danger. Literally hundreds of thousands of Londoners were killed by the pollution in the air, water, and food. New industries popped up everywhere to support the burgeoning population and to exploit the cheap labor market. Small factories occupied converted tenements or houses that once held families in residential neighborhoods. Sometimes, only a part of such a tenement or house was occupied by industry while the rest still functioned as a residence for individuals or families. With an increase in the use of chemistry, and with little knowledge of the damage many chemicals inflicted upon the bodies of those exposed to them, industries, such as match making, destroyed the lives of their workers and those living within close proximity to production. Those who suffered often did so without knowing why until it was too late. Matchmaking is only one example of the industrial poisoning of Londoners. Deadly chemicals were everywhere. They were used in medicines and in prepared foods as preservatives. Madness abounded, if not as a result of the emotional hardships of life, then from chemical damage to the brain.

A life of poverty in London was slowly killing all of the Ripper’s victims. Survival within that environment is the story that intrigues me. Those are lives I can relate to because I see parallels with life in my own time.

Regardless of whether the Ripper’s victims had few opportunities to live better lives or were responsible in large part for their predicaments, their legacy is pitiful and poignant. Not the cute horror of Halloween perhaps or the over-the-top-turned-almost-cartoon horror of slasher and zombie films, the stories of the five women are full of emotional content, conflict, and drama. What happened to the victims of Jack the Ripper is true horror, and in the telling of those tales we are reminded that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

When I was growing up, my mother had a strange way of watching scary movies on television with the family; she’d stand in the hallway beside the living-room, peeking around the corner at the TV, ready to run away if the film became too scary. Is that the way we as a society treat true horror? We all love a fun scare, but when the suffering becomes too real, we want to run away because it’s painful to witness. I suppose I’m saying that if fewer of us looked away, if we had the courage to see, there might be less actual horror in the world. So here’s to remaining in the living-room of life with our eyes wide open.

And so to the life of Elizabeth Stride.

—Alan M. Clark

Eugene, Oregon

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Of Thimble and Threat

The Fourth Victim of Jack the Ripper

Published: September 28th, 2017

In Victorian London, the greatest city of the richest country in the world, the industrial revolution has created a world of decadence and prosperity, but also one of unimaginable squalor and suffering. Filth, decay, danger, sorrow, and death are ever-present in the streets. 

Catherine Eddowes is found murdered gruesomely in the city's East End. When the police make their report, the only indicators of her life are the possessions carried on her person, likely everything she owned in the world. 

In Of Thimble and Threat, Alan M. Clark tells the heartbreaking story of Catherine Eddowes, the fourth victim of Jack the Ripper, explaining the origin and acquisition of the items found with her at the time of her death, chronicling her life from childhood to adulthood, motherhood, her descent into alcoholism, and finally her death. 

Of Thimble and Threat is a story of the intense love between a mother and a child, a story of poverty and loss, fierce independence, and unconquerable will. It is the devastating portrayal of a self-perpetuated descent into Hell, a lucid view into the darkest parts of the human heart.

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  Author’s Note

This is a work of fiction inspired by the life of Catherine Eddowes, a woman believed to be the fourth victim of Jack the Ripper. For purposes of storytelling, I have not adhered strictly to her history. I have assigned to my main character emotional characteristics and reactions that seem consistent with her life and circumstances. My goal is to provide a glimpse into a time when the industrial revolution had created not only prosperity, but also unimaginable suffering in what was the greatest city in the richest country in the world. Apparently it was a society in which the impoverished, and especially poor, single, middle-aged women were considered by many to have little worth. The murders of five women in the autumn of 1888 was only a symptom of the social ills in London.

Therefore, this is not the story of Jack the Ripper. If anything, the Whitechapel Murderer is merely a force of nature within the environment of the tale. It is the story of a human life tragically cut short, one that would have been quickly forgotten if the manner of her death had been anything other than astounding.

In modern times, information about those who are murdered is readily available. It flows easily and with little in the way of filters from the news. I am most often interested in what I can learn about what motivates those who kill. For my own emotional protection, I frequently shy away from thinking too much about the personalities, loves and aspirations of those who suffer from violent crimes.

My first real insight into the humanity of Catherine Eddowes came from reading the police report about her murder, particularly the part that listed her articles of clothing and the possessions found on her person at the time of her death. Catherine Eddowes had spent each of the two nights before the night of her death in a different casual ward. The casual wards were part of the workhouse system, a place for the transient, the ill, or those known to be criminals to receive temporary shelter in what was considered at the time to be appalling conditions. Like many of the homeless today, she was wearing many layers of clothing. She carried over fifty personal items. It is likely she had everything she owned on her person.

With a sense of what her time and circumstance were, I found this pitiful list more compelling than anything I’ve read about Jack the Ripper.

—Alan M. Clark

Eugene Oregon

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The Prostitute's Price

The Fifth Victim of Jack the Ripper

Published: August 30th, 2018

A novel that beats back our assumptions about the time of Jack the Ripper. Not the grim story of an unfortunate drunken prostitute killed before her time, but one of a young woman alive with all the emotional complexity of women today. 

Running from a man wanting her to pay for her crimes against his brother, Mary Jane Kelly must recover a valuable hidden necklace and sell it to gain the funds to leave London and start over elsewhere. Driven by powerful, if at times conflicting emotion, she runs the dystopian labyrinth of the East End, and tries to sneak past the deadly menace that bars her exit.

Although THE PROSTITUTE'S PRICE is a standalone tale, and part of the Jack the Ripper Victims Series, it is also a companion story to the novel, THE ASSASSIN'S COIN, by John Linwood Grant. The gain a broader experience of each novel, read both.

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Author’s Note: To Hell with Jack the Ripper

This novel, and the Jack the Ripper Victims Series of which it is a part, are not meant to satisfy curiosity about the identity of Jack the Ripper. Instead, they exist to take readers back in time to experience the circumstances in which those he preyed upon lived and suffered his crimes in Victorian London.

Many of the place names in the novel—Stepney, Spitalfields, Shadwell, Whitechapel, Southwark, Clerkenwell, Deptford, Poplar, Shoreditch, Limehouse, Chelsea Embankment, Knightsbridge—are in the greater London area. Some are the names of districts or parishes or what were towns in their own right until they were swallowed up over time by the expansion of the city of London. They are all within ten miles of one another, most of them within easy walking distance.

Having written novels about the first four victims, I found myself shying away from writing this one about the last victim, Mary Jane Kelly. With time, I realized that the crime scene photographs had discouraged me.

At least two exist, one that is perhaps the primary, taking in the whole scene, the other a closeup. Much of the “trash” in the photos exists because the images now available are from photographic products that have deteriorated with age. Those materials would be going on 130 years old. The pictures have what looks like dust and scratches or perhaps water damage that led to mold, mildew, fungus. Whatever the cause, the deterioration has a very dirty look, making what is a disgusting scene, usually seen in a brown sepia-tone, look even worse. Taken in London’s East End in 1888, the images seem to speak accurately of what was a very filthy part of the world in the late Victorian period, indeed a place and time with some of the most impoverished people the world has known. Yet when the photos were first created, they probably had much less trash in them, and would have provided a clearer view of the victim.

The mutilation of the corpse in the photo is so extreme that it somehow wounds my sense of human worth and dignity. The outrage of the wasted humanity is bad enough, but seeing those pitiful remains on a bed in a small, squalid single-room dwelling, I also suffer an odd claustrophobia, a sense of being trapped in that tight space at 13 Miller’s Court in Spitalfields, where true horror took place. With the dreadful feeling I get from the images, I didn’t want to begin the work on the novel about Mary Jane Kelly.

I considered showing the pictures here, but decided that those who haven’t seen them are better off. Unfortunately, these words may pique the curiosity of some who will look for the images.

Despite my revulsion, I have completed the series with this novel, and in a manner that took my distress over the crime scene photographs into consideration.

“For all the murder victims forgotten in the excitement over the assholes who kill.” That is my dedication for A Brutal Chill in August, the novel in the series about the life of Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols, the first victim of Jack the Ripper.

We know much more about the women he killed than we do about him.

Likely, the women did not know the murderer.

As most do, I employ male pronouns when talking about the Ripper merely because of the name Jack, though we don’t know for certain the killer’s gender.

I have stuck to what history tells us about the women he killed as much as seems reasonable, while also trying to tell good stories. The available records that provide their reactions to given situations are limited, so we do not know what they said or felt in many cases. In broad periods of their lives we have mere outlines of their activities at best. Writing character-driven, dramatic representations of their lives, I have invented dialogue and emotional motivations for the characters that fit with their time and circumstances.

Survival within the environment of Victorian England took a heavy toll on the lives of the women the Ripper targeted. The first four, middle-aged and struggling to survive on their own, had taken to the streets to earn as prostitutes. They were worn down and weakened by the time they met their killer. The fifth and final, Mary Jane Kelly, was a young prostitute, possibly twenty-five years old.

What we know about those he murdered tells us something about Jack the Ripper and offers a glimpse of the world in which he and they lived. In most ways, he would have been as vulnerable as his victims in a dangerous, often merciless world. Just like them, he was probably aware of the need to maintain appearances and to achieve the highest social position possible in order to ensure survival in a swiftly changing environment. I presume he knew that eventually disease and death would claim him without ceremony and that he would die alone like everyone else. If he considered these things after what he’d done and what he’d witnessed of death, perhaps he experienced a pitiable fear something like what his victims knew.

Most of us spend much of life feeling confidently alive, solid and incorruptible, not thinking about our demise, our eventual loss of facility and faculty, our loss of awareness and sense of identity and finally the decay of our flesh. Those of us who have not seen war, violent crime, or deadly disaster turn to face our demise slowly over many years as it dawns on us frightfully that we are like all those who have gone before us, that we all suffer and die. To see someone face that fear precipitously, the process demonstrated within moments, to be the playwright and director of that drama—that is what the Ripper experienced.

Considering the crime scene photos that show the severe mutilation of the Ripper’s last victim, I have to wonder if the murderer could identify with the women he killed and feel their suffering. Having revealed to himself by his own cruel acts the heights of fear and pain, and the terrifying frailty and ephemeral nature of flesh and awareness, was his dread of a particularly intense nature?

If his freedom or his life were never taken from him in answer to his crimes, did he at least suffer revelations of his own mortality?

I would like to think that he did.

—Alan M. Clark

Eugene, Oregon

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About the author: 

Author and illustrator, Alan M. Clark grew up in Tennessee in a house full of bones and old medical books. His awards include the World Fantasy Award and four Chesley Awards. He is the author of seventeen books, including twelve novels, a couple of novellas, four collections of fiction, some of them lavishly illustrated, and a nonfiction full-color book of his artwork. Mr. Clark's company, IFD Publishing, has released 42 titles of various editions, including traditional books, both paperback and hardcover, audio books, and ebooks by such authors as F. Paul Wilson, Elizabeth Engstrom, and Jeremy Robert Johnson. Alan M. Clark and his wife, Melody, live in Oregon.

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