booksnooksandcooks's review against another edition
3.0
Interesting but it started to drag by part two.
miss_cat's review against another edition
4.0
It was quite good. Informative, but still very interesting. Read more like a narrative than a textbook; thank goodness, lol.
nickimonkey's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
informative
inspiring
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
5.0
ainwena's review against another edition
dark
informative
medium-paced
5.0
This did a great job going back and forth between the crimes that were committed and the context of criminal investigation during the time period.
miamoo1004's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
informative
mysterious
fast-paced
5.0
Content Warnings
Minor: Rape, Murder, Suicide attempt, Mental illness, and Sexual violence
mimela78's review against another edition
dark
informative
mysterious
medium-paced
3.0
An interesting view into forensic science early days.
simlish's review against another edition
3.0
The Killer of Little Shepherds is not the sort of nonfiction I am particularly drawn to. I picked it up because Starr's other book, Blood was not available, and I wanted to get a taste for his style and whether it was worth waiting for the hold to come in.
While I am not particularly interested in true crime, that aspect of the book is more a case study/example than the point. He introduces the book by saying that he has not made anything up: dialogue and thoughts are reconstructed from primary sources. While I appreciate the devotion to the facts of the case, I think it's a bit silly for any author to pretend to be totally unbiased or omniscient.
Once I got through the first part (half reconstruction of the crime spree Vacher admitted to, half introduction to Lacassagne and the forensic capabilities of the day), the reading got faster for me. Starr did a good job of providing context for Vacher's murders and the weaknesses and strengths of 1890s France. During the Trial/Judgement section he also went into the importance of the insanity defense debate that took place around the trial.
To me, the weaknesses of the book were minimal. It was readable, well-researched, and heavily cited. I only had two real issues: the first was that despite the Lacassagne school's focus on social causes for criminality, there was very little focus on what social causes there might have been for Vacher in particular. Admittedly, I have my own biases here, but I thought there was a strong misogynist bent to his crimes, and other than a brief mention of victim-blaming in courts, there was no discussion of that. More than half of Vacher's victims were young women/adolescent girls, and there was a sexual component to all of his attacks. Possibly that would be a very different book, but I feel that it should have at least been mentioned. The second issue is that it is briefly mentioned, twice, that he was suspected of over 25 murders, but only connected to 11. I would have liked a slightly longer overview of why those 14+ murders weren't tied to him. As a book about the birth of forensic science, I feel that illustrating the limitations wouldn't have been off-topic.
All-in-all, it was a solid read. Someone who likes true crime more than me would probably enjoy it more than I did, but it had enough of the things I find interesting that I finished it without difficulty.
While I am not particularly interested in true crime, that aspect of the book is more a case study/example than the point. He introduces the book by saying that he has not made anything up: dialogue and thoughts are reconstructed from primary sources. While I appreciate the devotion to the facts of the case, I think it's a bit silly for any author to pretend to be totally unbiased or omniscient.
Once I got through the first part (half reconstruction of the crime spree Vacher admitted to, half introduction to Lacassagne and the forensic capabilities of the day), the reading got faster for me. Starr did a good job of providing context for Vacher's murders and the weaknesses and strengths of 1890s France. During the Trial/Judgement section he also went into the importance of the insanity defense debate that took place around the trial.
To me, the weaknesses of the book were minimal. It was readable, well-researched, and heavily cited. I only had two real issues: the first was that despite the Lacassagne school's focus on social causes for criminality, there was very little focus on what social causes there might have been for Vacher in particular. Admittedly, I have my own biases here, but I thought there was a strong misogynist bent to his crimes, and other than a brief mention of victim-blaming in courts, there was no discussion of that. More than half of Vacher's victims were young women/adolescent girls, and there was a sexual component to all of his attacks. Possibly that would be a very different book, but I feel that it should have at least been mentioned. The second issue is that it is briefly mentioned, twice, that he was suspected of over 25 murders, but only connected to 11. I would have liked a slightly longer overview of why those 14+ murders weren't tied to him. As a book about the birth of forensic science, I feel that illustrating the limitations wouldn't have been off-topic.
All-in-all, it was a solid read. Someone who likes true crime more than me would probably enjoy it more than I did, but it had enough of the things I find interesting that I finished it without difficulty.
muhly22's review against another edition
3.0
When you look at the subtitle of this book, the natural impression is that it will be about a specific case (or collection of related cases), which deals with a significant episode in early forensic science. That's not incorrect, but it's not exactly accurate, either.
The book is about Joseph Vacher (va-shay...he's French), a serial killer throughout France in the mid-1890s. He confessed to killing eleven people, all but one of whom were teenagers, and sexually mutilating their bodies after killing them.
This book is also about early forensic science, in a variety of forms. Readers learn about the discredited efforts of Lombroso, who believed he could identify "born criminals" based on physical attributes they displayed. Readers learn about the Bertillon system, which was a cumbersome system used to identify individuals, but which was largely replaced by fingerprinting. The scientific "hero" of the book is a French doctor named Lacassagne, who created standardized autopsy practices that help to identify deceased persons, as well as locate clues as to when and how a person died.
One would expect these areas of scientific exploration to play a significant role in the investigation of the murders committed by Vacher. They aren't absent, per se, but given the prominence of the "birth of forensic science" in the title, they aren't as important and necessary as one would expect, either.
Lacassagne's primary contribution to the Vacher case is in a highly interesting area - when is a person morally and criminally responsible for their actions. There was no doubt that Vacher was the murderer, since he had confessed and provided details in such a way that he had to be murderer. Instead, Vacher's defense was a plea to be found insane, to be found not legally responsible for the crimes he had committed - after all, no sane man would commit the kinds of crimes that he did.
This is an area that is rich for discussion. But it's not forensic science (except for forensic psychology, which is the field that currently attempts to determine the mental state of an accused criminal at the time of the alleged crime). It's even ripe for deep philosophical conversation - what does it mean to be responsible for one's actions? What is the line, if there is one, when a person should no longer be held responsible for their actions, and thus not punished for them? Does any "defect" or imbalance in a person's brain, or brain chemistry, alter their responsibility, or just certain aberrations?
This would have been a fascinating case to explore those issues more fully, while also bringing in aspects of early forensic science. Instead, Douglass Starr forced the two stories together in a way that was occasionally distracting, often irrelevant, and that failed to do justice to either story.
The book is about Joseph Vacher (va-shay...he's French), a serial killer throughout France in the mid-1890s. He confessed to killing eleven people, all but one of whom were teenagers, and sexually mutilating their bodies after killing them.
This book is also about early forensic science, in a variety of forms. Readers learn about the discredited efforts of Lombroso, who believed he could identify "born criminals" based on physical attributes they displayed. Readers learn about the Bertillon system, which was a cumbersome system used to identify individuals, but which was largely replaced by fingerprinting. The scientific "hero" of the book is a French doctor named Lacassagne, who created standardized autopsy practices that help to identify deceased persons, as well as locate clues as to when and how a person died.
One would expect these areas of scientific exploration to play a significant role in the investigation of the murders committed by Vacher. They aren't absent, per se, but given the prominence of the "birth of forensic science" in the title, they aren't as important and necessary as one would expect, either.
Lacassagne's primary contribution to the Vacher case is in a highly interesting area - when is a person morally and criminally responsible for their actions. There was no doubt that Vacher was the murderer, since he had confessed and provided details in such a way that he had to be murderer. Instead, Vacher's defense was a plea to be found insane, to be found not legally responsible for the crimes he had committed - after all, no sane man would commit the kinds of crimes that he did.
This is an area that is rich for discussion. But it's not forensic science (except for forensic psychology, which is the field that currently attempts to determine the mental state of an accused criminal at the time of the alleged crime). It's even ripe for deep philosophical conversation - what does it mean to be responsible for one's actions? What is the line, if there is one, when a person should no longer be held responsible for their actions, and thus not punished for them? Does any "defect" or imbalance in a person's brain, or brain chemistry, alter their responsibility, or just certain aberrations?
This would have been a fascinating case to explore those issues more fully, while also bringing in aspects of early forensic science. Instead, Douglass Starr forced the two stories together in a way that was occasionally distracting, often irrelevant, and that failed to do justice to either story.
sophiewoz's review against another edition
4.0
it’s interesting how just over a decade can have radically changed much of the discussion in Starr’s conclusion. Interesting to catch a snapshot of an earlier time to better understand the continuum of how true crime has captured the interest of the public psyche.
sharonskinner's review against another edition
5.0
Fascinating recount of the beginnings of forensic science.