I suspect people who use the sort of terminology would describe this as a 'marmite book', except I'd go so far as to suggest that you'll either like it or you'll not even want to occupy the same room as it. Iain knows how to write, but his frame of mind and perception of the world can be tough to align with and really enjoying this book might require a shift in consciousness.

'White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings' following a dual story line, one in the modern world - an obnoxious band of London-based book sellers intent on finding long lost text and ultra-rare first editions at bargain bin prices; the other, in the grubby London of the late 19th century, following the bloody trail of Jack the Ripper. As the book progresses, the whirl of prose becomes increasingly dense and hard to follow - and those who liked it a bit, but without commitment, might find themselves losing the enthusiasm to make it all the way to the end.

I felt duty-bound to make it to the final page, something I can't say I have managed with other more prominent books - like 'Catch-22'. I can recommend Sinclair for his unique vision; but, I cannot promise you'll like what you read here. ( )

This is to reverse the conventions of detective fiction, where a given crime is unravelled, piece by piece, until a murderer is denounced whose actions are the starting point of the narration, Our narrative starts everywhere. We want to assemble all the incomplete movements, like cubists, until the point is reached where the crime can commit itself.
That is why there are so many Ripper candidates, so many theories; and they can all be right. They can all fade away in private asylums.
The Whitechapel deeds cauterized the millennial fears, cancelled the promise of revelation.

This book is a follow-up to "Lud Heat and Suicide Bridge", continuing some of the same themes, with the sites of the Whitechapel murders forming a mystical labyrinth in the heart of the East End.

There are several strands: one totally fictional with a group of seedy second-hand book dealers finding and losing a rare variant of the Sherlock Holmes story "A Study in Scarlet". Another, possibly based in reality, has Sinclair and his friend Joblard as a latter-day Holmes and Watson, walking the East End investigating Jack the Ripper. They take as a starting point, Stephen Knight's book "Jack the Ripper, The Final Solution", which pointed the finger at Sir William Gull, doctor to the royal family, as either the perpetrator or instigator of the crimes. The third strand tells the stories of Gull and his friend the philosopher and surgeon James Hinton, who died before the murders took place but whose stance on prostitution is though by some to have influenced the murderer. The ghosts of the historical and literary inhabitants of late Victorian London haunt the pages of this book. Jack the Ripper and his unfortunate victims, Frederick Treves and Joseph Merrick (the Elephant Man), the plains Indians of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, Jekyll and Hyde, Holmes, Watson and Moriarty, lurk in the shadows and fog, beyond the reach of the gas-lights.

Quite a tough read, and I'm not sure that I understand how the sordid lives of the book dealers are linked to the rest of the book. Interesting though. ( )

I'm having real trouble reviewing this one: On one hand, it's evocative, colorful and very intriguing. On the other, I really have no real Idea of what's going on. I feel as if I'm missing something, some vital clue that would unlock the mystery and make eveythig clear. Maybe I'm just not clever enough for this one.

Everything is mashed up and flows into everything else. The prose is heavy and thick, and moves with a furious pace. (Seriously, blink and you might miss something). There's so much to think about and try tounderstand, but unless you are a very diciplined reader you'll probaby be swept away by the torrent of impressions, thoughs and voices that is hurled at you.

I will try this again in a few years to see if I can make more of it then.