Book 1 of the New Year was a big flop! This may be the worst James Patterson I've ever read. It started off good, but went sour fast. There was one plot twist that was totally bogus. And, one part that was just unnecessary. It was confusing because it started out in first person and switches between being first person and not. The only reason I didn't abandon reading this book was because it was my first read of the new year!!! I'm not disappointed often in Patterson, but if you are a fan, this one is a skip it!
It seems I am not alone in my opinion. Here is a review from goodreads.com:
Oct 24, 11
Read in October, 2011
This book has made me reconsider a lot of things in my life.
First of all, it has made me look at all of the other books that I have given a one-star rating too. Yeah, The Shack was bad, but was it THIS bad? It has also made me think of how many people might be out there reading books like this, or any other books which appear to have been written as a sixth-grade writing assignment, and live to turn the pages and get wrapped up in the action. It makes me immeasurably sorry for them. It has also made me think about what kind of money I could be making if I got into writing a brainless book over the course of a weekend. Or, better yet, have someone else entirely write the book and put my name on it and slap a picture of me looking rather smug and dapper with a really nice watch on the back cover. It has made me consider what watch I want to display when I am rich and famous.
There are many things that can be said about this book, but none of them should be said. It probably shouldn't exist. The fact that it does leaves me and Faulkner weeping for the future.
It is typefaced in 24 point font. It has over 100 chapters, none of which extend beyond four pages. There is also no purpose to the chapters other to advance the reader along so that they feel a sense of accomplishment in what must be their very dreary, multiple-cat-filled lives. It is written in first-person narrative, but then it is not, but then it is again. There are uncomfortable sex scenes strewn throughout. Mostly uncomfortable because I am pretty sure that whoever wrote them had not yet experienced sexual intercourse. It might be cliché to talk about how writing is cliché, but this shit is cliché. Like, laughably so. A bag of diamonds. A bag of DIAMONDS! A Russian bad guy. A Russian bad guy named CHUKOV! The level of corporate sponsorship is astounding. Since when were novels used to hock products. "Since now, bitch!" says Patterson, proud supporter of Tom's of Maine (it keeps my breath fresh for hours). It is ridiculous. It is senseless. It is drivel.
And it is genius.
Tag Heuer. I will wear a Tag Heuer watch. And, my novel will be about a professional killer... named Tag Heuer. Watch out, Patterson!