thinkingcatss's review against another edition

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dark emotional informative reflective sad tense fast-paced

5.0


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tiernanhunter's review against another edition

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challenging dark emotional informative reflective medium-paced

5.0


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jacs63's review against another edition

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challenging dark emotional informative sad tense medium-paced

5.0

This is a stunning book for so many reasons. 
It gives a face, a name and a voice, to the 5 victims of JtR. 
We so often only hear about the perpetrator, and not the victims. 
The book discusses the fact that thru the falsehood and misinformation spread by the Metropolitan Police and journalists at the time, it was convenient for us all to think that JtR only killed prostitutes. 
Only 2 of the 5 were actually known to be sex workers. 
There is no evidence that the other 3 were sex workers at all, but I for one believed the misinformation that was spread. 
One thing that all 5 women shared was that they are all alcoholics. 
I wonder why?? 
Maybe because cheap alcohol was the only thing that dulled the pain, if only for a while, of the poverty; the hunger; the homelessness; the early death of family members, including their own spouses or their own babies/ children; the death sentence that they were given if their spouse died and left them, and their children, destitute; their treatment as a woman with no legal rights; the living hell that was the 'Workhouse'; the lack of education for woman; the disease; the filth and vermin; the lack of medicines; the lack of clean water and sanitation; the violence; the lack of hope, respect and dignity etc etc etc. 
Basically the treatment of women/girls in the 1800's. 

It's full of interesting and informative historical facts about what life, and death, was like, for women in particular, in the Victorian 1800's. 

It's sad and horrific and devastating. It's a book that won't leave me for a while, I don't think. 
Probably not a book to read if you are depressed or feeling melancholic.

We will never know who JtR was. 
But we can know who his victims were. 
These women were daughters; sisters; wives; lovers; mothers; friends. 
May they never be forgotten. 
RIP and love, Polly, Annie, Elizabeth, Kate and Mary Jane.

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amelia_douglas's review against another edition

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5.0


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revived_reading's review against another edition

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5.0

The way Hallie Rubenhold writes, you can feel every single emotion she tries to convey. From dread to a bit of hope to powerless. 

This book opens your eyes not only to the lives of these 5 women, but to the lives of many, many women in the Victorian era. 

Hallie Rubenhold truly gave back these women their stories and their lives. She gave them the respect they were never given. She gave them justice. 

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directorpurry's review against another edition

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challenging emotional informative reflective medium-paced

5.0


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vixenreader's review against another edition

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challenging dark emotional informative reflective sad tense medium-paced

4.75

It is good to see the victims of Jack the Ripper as human beings instead of faceless statistics to be gawked at. 

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vasha's review against another edition

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informative reflective sad fast-paced

5.0

This is a rather extraordinary book, and also a sad, almost depressing one. Why were writers, and many police, in 1888 certain that the five women murdered in Whitechapel were prostitutes? That's a question that Rubenhold, while demonstrating that at least three of them could not fit any possible definition of "prostitute," goes into in some detail (at much less length, in her angry final chapter, she considers the unsavory cultural factors which make Jack the Ripper's image as a killer of prostitutes a quasi-heroic one to this day). What it comes down to, as I interpreted it, is that in the Victorian upper- and middle-class mind, in the misogynist mind, classifying a woman as simply "a prostitute" was a way of ceasing to think about her at all: a woman's value resting on the foundation of the purity and "guardedness" of her sexuality, a woman whose sexuality was regarded as "public" had no basis on which to be valued at all, and it was easy to regard all those placed in this category as undifferentiated, and think that the details of their lives really didn't matter. And, as a corollary to "prostitution" being regarded as ultimate unvalued condition, all women who were outside social approval for any reason (having left their husband, being disorderly on the streets, whatever) were lumped into a single category to which the term "prostitute" could be applied (although the police were more cautious about the use of the term since they had a legal definition and standards of proof to adhere to, and knew that that definition would only fit a limited number of women). But the thought-stopping effect of creating a mental category of "common prostitutes" means that people in 1888, and (shamefully) since, did not need to consider the murdered women as individual lives, did not need to see them as human beings as familiar as the ones they personally knew, could leave them as props in a tableau for gawking fascination. This is just as unjust to women who did do sex work as to those who didn't: whichever was true of each of the five women in this book, Hallie Rubenhold has set out to at last do justice to her as an individual, as a personality, as a person who made choices and did far, far more over the course of her life than be on the streets of Whitechapel at one moment which put her name in the newspapers.

Beyond this fundamental wrongdoing, what I found depressing about The Five was that before these five women ended up in direst poverty and squalor in Whitechapel, each led a life quite different from the others. One was raised in a poor working-class neighborhood in London, one in the quarters of an elite cavalry regiment, one on a farm in Sweden, one in a family of skilled tinworkers of the industrial Midlands, and one (perhaps) in a well-to-do family in Wales. Some of them married, some didn't; one rose  to nearly middle-class status; some worked in domestic service, but another was an itinerant ballad-hawker, and still another was in the elegant upper ranks of the sex trade; they all experienced periods of a much better life than what they lived in their final years, but what that consisted of was different in each case. The factors that brought them to adversity were equally varied, but putting them all together paints a picture of an interwoven system of social stratification and patriarchy that could and did all too easily crush women. Annie Chapman, who tried very hard for respectability, fared no better than Kate Eddowes, who boldly flouted society. Reading about these different lives all leading to the same place has made it hard, for the moment, for me to believe in happy endings in Victorian fiction because I'm feeling like these women weren't unlucky, but rather those who lived in peace were the remarkably lucky ones.

On a side note, I've read the graphic novel From Hell (which I can't recommend) and its author, in the course of thinking he's portraying the women of Whitechapel sympathetically, states that they were all prostitutes because that was the only job they could (were allowed to) do. How wrong he was, and what a superficial thinker! I'll leave it to readers of "The Five" to learn the wide variety of expedients that they turned to in order to get each day's food, and hopefully a bed each night; they were determined, experienced, and ingenious, and what's more they had the generous assistance of others in the same plight, returning the favor when they happened to have an extra penny.

I can highly recommend the audiobook, superbly read by Louise Brealey; the print version is also worthwhile for its illustrations and footnotes. 

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maddalenacesco's review against another edition

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dark informative sad tense medium-paced

4.75

victorian age perpetuating the task of making women hate themselves <3.

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odrib's review against another edition

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challenging informative reflective slow-paced

3.5


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