This travelog by a half-Irish guy starts off with the basic premise that he’s bound to have a good time in an Irish bar with his name on it.
If that doesn’t grab you enough to get you to go out and buy the book – well, your loss.
There’s alcohol. Drugs. Other people having sex. Some nice insights into Catholicism. And a jaundiced view of tourists and tourist traps, that’s surpassed only by Terry Pratchett and his characters Twoflower and Rincewind.
Alan Moore’s take on Jack the Ripper, based loosely on Stephen Knight’s proposed solution. Meticulously researched in terms of both art and the patois of the times. Rich with detail. Topped off by Mr. Moore’s signature touch that leaves you wondering just a little bit about reality.
Now, before you say, wait-a-minute-wasn’t-there-a-film-starring-Johnny-Depp-that-sucked-sideways, I’d like to point something out – that film bears as little resemblance to this graphic novel, as Tom Cruise bears to the Jack Reacher of the books.