Rating: 
Summary: Mitochondrial DNA - Case Closed
Review: If, as Patricia Cromwell states, the mitochondrial DNA found on the stamps of letters written by both Jack the Ripper and Sickert matched - how can there be so many people who don't believe she has proved guilt? Wouldn't that be enough without ANY of the other piles of circumstantial evidence?? I get the feeling from many of these reviews that I read an entirely different book. The one I read was fascinating beyond belief. I wish some real DNA specialists would weigh in on this and explain the likelihood of finding multiple people with matching DNA.
Rating: 
Summary: Assumation and Speculation
Review: As someone who reads many forensic books, I found Portrait of a Killer to be full of Ms. Cornwell's speculation and assumptions. While I understand that she reviewed evidence that is 114 years old, I rather her stick to the facts, which probably would have cut the book in half.
Rating: 
Summary: Was she there?
Review: Patricia Cornwell may be a wonderful mystery writer (I've never read her, so I wouldn't know), but she should stick to what she knows - writing fiction. I have done extensive studies on Jack the Ripper and other serial killers and while her "evidence" is quite intriguing, it is fallible.
She believes that she has solved this great mystery as have other, more acclaimed Ripperologists. However, where she errs greatly is by saying that she is 100% absolutely positive and there is no margin for error. Her theory may be correct, but it will only be added to the other Jack the Ripper as a theory.
Cornwell has received scathing reviews from others who have studied Jack the Ripper more extensively and longer than she has. Why should she suddenly have the magical key that everyone's been looking for. Her suspect has been studied before along with countless others - what makes him different in this instance?
She purchased most of his art and reviewed letters sent to Scotland Yard and obtained DNA samples. However, the only thing she was able to prove with this was the fact the her suspect may have sent a letter or two taunting the police. Crime experts over several generations have concluded that the real Ripper only sent maybe one or two letters that the press and police received if any at all.
Read it if you have extra time to waste, but don't take it to heart. There are many other, better books about Jack the Ripper that are more thorough and informative.
Rating:
Summary: If the Jack the Ripper case intrigues you...
Review: I've always been interested in the Jack the ripper mystery, and was very impressed by this book. Because Cornwell's research was detailed and comprehensive, she makes an extremely convincing argument. Over the years many people have claimed to have solved this case, but Cornwell's use of modern forensic tools to identify the ripper had never been attempted before. The fact that her suspect was a very popular artist in England, and never considered a prime suspect before, makes her book all that more interesting. She convinced me.
Rating:
Summary: stretching the point until it breaks
Review: Nearly every paragraph of this book is an astounding revelation-of poor logic, muddied thinking, circumstantial coincidences and forced argument. If Cornwell constructed her mysteries with the same reckless reasoning as we have here, she'd retain few of her fans. The sins here are many, including a complete absence of historical context for Sickert's "sick" art, a strained feminist slant to her interpretation of Sickert's early life, an almost willful misinterpretation of the artwork and an almost insulting disregard for pure common sense. Case in point, just one of many: Cornwell address the commonly held belief that most of the so-called Ripper letters to the police (more than 200) were hoaxes, affirming her belief that most were written by the same person. Sickert, being an artist, found delight in disguising his handwriting in a number of different ways, which explains the variations of handwriting styles in the letters. He often played at being illiterate, misspelling words deliberately, but on occasion wanted to remind the police he was educated and submitted letters with flawless grammar. (We regular folks might think that the variations in style and appearance suggested several different authors, but apparently not.) The logical leaps don't stop there, but they're too many to list here. The most fun a reader can have with this book is to read Cornwell's descriptions of Sickert's paintings and drawings, which she describes as being too-close-for comfort reproductions of the actual murder scenes-and then look at the artwork yourself. A few drawings are included in the book itself, which will make you scratch your head and wonder how Cornwell could possibly have interpreted it in this particular way. (My theory? A big advance from the publisher, but don't listen to a cynic like me.) When you look up the drawings and paintings that are not included in the book, you'll think you've stumbled onto the wrong documents; they're that far from the descriptions. As for Sickert's morbid subject matter, the reader should keep in mind that the Gothic tradition and the Grand Guignol were both extremely popular at this time. It's not unusual that Sickert, a disciple of Whistler and an acquaintance of Beardsly should include skulls, violence and corpses in his work; it would be more unusual for an artist of his background if he hadn't. Check this one out of the library along with a book of Sickert's prints. Better still, find out where Cornwell got her information and dip into "Sickert and the Ripper Crimes" by Jean Fuller, now out of print but worth tracking down, so long as you don't have to buy it.
Rating:
Summary: Sickert's arrogance is matched only by Cornwell's
Review: Firstly, I admire Cornwell for her thorough research and the effort that went into this effort (how much of it really was hers?). Is the book well written? No. Is it conclusive? Of course not and it could never be so I'll give her a break there. This book is interesting as a ripper theory but it proves only that Sickert "may" have written some of the letters. An artist depicting the social scene of the times he or she lived in does not say 'murderer' to me, in fact it is incredibly normal. Martin Scorcese makes violent films about gangsters but I sincerely doubt he went and killed a bunch of people to get the feel for it. My main problem with this book is Cornwell's extroadinary ego! She has stated that she is "staking her career" on this. I don't think so, this is a marketing tool and one so transparent she should be ashamed of herself. Also it is screamingly obvious that the ripper hated women and the endless passages on male psycopaths are preeching to the converted. What is interesting is the thourough contempt she holds for men in general. There is a real thread here, men are either incompetant, impotent, gay, violent, psychopathic, dumb or heinous villains. Indeed in 100 years time she could be seen as Patricia the ripper based on her own disdain and mistrust of men as she seems to think this alone is enough to make a person a violent killer. Why she doesn't even mention Francis Tumblety is a bit fishy if you ask me.
Rating: 
Summary: No case to Close
Review: Patricia Cornwell has earned the Erich von Daniken prize for crime reporting.
Rating:
Summary: Proof in the negative
Review: This book is an unorganized list of factoids and speculation. I kept waiting for the punchline, but her "case" falls apart because of her approach of assuming the positive by attempting to prove the negative. Her continual statements such as "I see no reason why Sickert wouldn't have been there. . ." get extremely tedious and increasingly unconvincing. She can't prove Sickert was in Whitechapel by failing to find him elsewhere. She can't prove he wrote the Ripper letters just because he was a talented artist who could have written in many different styles. The only things she DID prove was that forensic science was abysmal and that most people didn't care about the women who were murdered. There is no smoking gun - just a bunch of could've would've should've.
Rating:
Summary: DISAPPOINTING!
Review: I generally enjoy Cornwell's Scarpetta novels, finding them well-researched and intriguing. I also enjoy historical discussions of the Jack the Ripper murders and his possible identities. I found this book to be completely unorganized and poorly written. I was also skeptical of many of her assertions of "facts", wishing that she had substantiated more. I shut the book believing that Sikert was indeed a disturbed individual, but unconvinced that he was beyond a doubt Jack the Ripper.
Rating:
Summary: Repellent
Review: Cornwell has clearly gone off the deep end. She has come to the mistaken conclusion that first, she is Kay Scarpetta and that second, the things that makes up for her (truly wonderful) novels are actually true. The result is a tangled batch of supposition that reads like libel. Her method is to pick out something about her Victim (eg the accused), for example that he had a fistula. She prefaces her commentary with a disclaimer that nothing she is about to write is true, then delves into a "if the fistula was this bad, and was of thus and so type, and if all the operations were adequately botched, then he'd be so upset that it is reasonable to assume that he'd go off and kill lots of women." This type of diatribe will go on for ten pages or so, during which time she shifts from an "if" voice to an absolute and accusatory voice. A caveat is that despite her historical novel approach to the subject, the accused may very well be guilty. She does, however, a disservice to her case by confusing the product of her imagined investigations with reality. That confusion shifts the novel from a non-fiction piece to a blended book where it is unclear at any moment whether the evidence provided is real or supposition. Additionally distressing is that the accused has been dead for some time now, and is not in a position to indicate that these suppositions are untrue. Cornwell writes a very good novel, and researches her subjects well. The errors in this case are driven by those excellent skills; she is adept at creating a situation where the evidence indicates the guilt of the subject. Unfortunately, the accused in this case is a real person, yet the "evidence" is largely the product of a very confused author. What would otherwise be a compelling novel becomes little more than mud-slinging. Cornwell may be correct in choosing her target, but the confusion that she suffers, in thinking that what she makes up for a novel is permissable when accusing a real person, makes the book unreadable.
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