There are a number of problems in reading this book.
The Number One problem is Upfront Bald-Faced Lying in the marketing of the book.
1. The title has nothing to do with the contents of the book on any level. It supposedly is the name of a video game. However, the video game is never played or used as a clue or ever referenced again after being used to explain how a club in the book starts. 'Ripper' references nothing about ripping or anything knife-y which occurs in the book. Instead, it is used as the name of a kind of meek role-playing club which meets online to figure out 'real life' crime. The crimes the club tries to solve are actually based on stolen inside information that the leader of the club, Amanda Jackson, who is either 16 or 17 (her age is given as both in different places in the book, but since she is going to college soon and it mentions her almost being 18 several times, I decided that the earlier reference to her being 16 was an editing error) acquires. Her father, Bob Martin, is a deputy chief of homicide in San Francisco, and it's his information that Amanda 'rips' off, although Martin could care less when he finds out, and he actually provides Amanda with whatever she wants to know later. These are the only two possible reasons I can think of to use the title, 'Ripper', neither of which is one that a buyer of the book will assume is the reason to use it. All of the publisher's advertising about the book says this novel is a murder mystery, so everyone, including me, thinks it's about a serial killer who uses a knife like Jack the Ripper, the famous London 19th-century serial killer. Not.
2. The book is being advertised as if it were a genre mystery. Not! It absolutely is not! It is a mild, mannered, friendly, easy-going, romantic-comedy, chick-lit novel for 400 pages. It actually had me on the path of thinking this was a family-oriented Romance genre author attempting to write an Armistead Maupin book, such as 'Tales of the City', only a lot less interesting, dramatic, engaging or cute. A defined mystery finally becomes important at page 400 or so, but until then the mystery reader must be satisfied with quickie peculiar murders, which pop up every ten chapters or so, that the characters completely ignore or briefly converse about (the Ripper Club). The murders NEVER impact anybody or anything, having absolutely no intersection with the life of any character in the book. In fact, whenever anything mysterious or murderous pops into the universe of the book, it is only noticeable in how it quietly tiptoes away.
3. Amanda Jackson is billed as the amazing blazing wunderkind at the center of the book, girl detective. Instead, she is a peripheral character, barely on stage. She's a nice girl with an occasional walk-on part. The end.
The plot:
Indiana Jackson is an 'earth mother' of the type who includes a tremendous amount of New Age beliefs and customs in her life and philosophies, but strictly of the urban fantasy kind. She runs a small massage healing business utilizing aromatherapy and meditation in San Francisco, and most of her friends are astrologers, mystics and acupuncture specialists. Her daughter Amanda, her father Blake Jackson, her ex-husband Bob Martin, an ex-Seal Ryan Miller and his war dog Attilla, and various other relatives, friends of relatives, clients and small business owners revolve in and out of Indiana's social life, interacting in a variety of romantic comedy cute meet-and-greets. Amanda grows up under all of this slightly unconventional but warm love so that she is spunky with her mom, dad, granddad and wants to start a murder club with some of her 'Ripper' online video game friends.
The club itself serves as bridge to move the plot forward occasionally. They put information together about some murders which they miraculously link up, but half of the time, it didn't matter. Three times what the club comes up with only serves to help the club members think about possible connections, but ultimately they and their conclusions are meaningless to solving the crimes because the information they figure out is already out there on some level and either the cops or other people have it as well. When they do figure stuff out that's important, cool, because the story briefly begins to have a heart beat. However, the information wasn't acted on except for the last two bits of stuff they figured out, near the end of the book. By this time, I was already wondering what was the point of this club? Sorry to say, but it was more of a chick-lit social club to discuss the poor health of most of the members than anything else, and a way for Amanda to playfully bully her beloved grandfather, Blake. Amanda and Blake really are quite charming together. But every member is a walk-on and forgettable.
The club members are all damaged - physically disabled, suffering from cancer, socially shy, etc. They met each other through the online game 'Ripper'. All of them have ridiculous avatars, which seems to be a point of the book, although it doesn't ultimately mean anything. The author includes them as if they will be people who matter, but they don't, except to be able to pass on a vital fact around page 450.
There are several characters who annoyed me terribly. One character who may have been written in for the purposes of a red herring, or a lovable crank, or comic relief, but all I know is I was strongly hoping she'd be a murder victim by page 50 - Celeste Roko, astrology consultant. She annoys half of the other characters in the book as well, but to no real purpose.
I was not real happy about a heroine character either - Indiana Jackson, Amanda's mother. She is one of those ridiculous people who think massage and smelling flowers cures everything except cancer. Unfortunately, she is the center of the book. We readers are supposed to adore her. I didn't. The blurbs on the cover of the book reveal she disappears, and Amanda marshals her mystery team together to save her. This is SO misleading and wrong!
A number of strange murders happen. Bob Martin is in homicide, but he has no idea they are connected. After all, there are a lot of murders in San Francisco. Amanda figures it out by no means I can see, and puts it to her video playing friends to think about. Meanwhile, her gorgeous mother Indiana is at the center of a circle of women and men who are fascinated by her. All of them are mesmerized by her full figure and unaffected unadorned personality. After she massages them, they want nothing more than to follow her around, call her, date her or be her friend. She believes she cures their aches and pains through massage and aromatherapy, but they think it's the being with her that gives them peace. So, for 400 pages we see how these various Indiana-enchanted folks intersect their lives with Indiana, meeting for coffee, competing for her hand in lust, etc. When there are 75 pages left to read, Indiana finally disappears. The 'Ripper' club figures out a clue, Amanda calls Ryan Miller and Martin, and everybody bumps it up a little into a thriller, with an identity mystery cleared up that I had figured out by page 200 simply because of a certain character's social weirdness.
I'm not a genre martinet, ok? If new authors or established literary novelists want to try genre writing or escape an author hell of writer typecasting, that's ok with me. I don't freak because Stephen King writes literary horror books, and I easily rate with a clear conscience many mystery novels five stars while giving literary classics and award winners of prestigious prizes three stars or worse. Books are a subjective experience in the end, right? Right?
That said, this book is ok, but it's messed up. If you ordinarily like gentle family-friendly chick-lit, this might shock you horrifically with the free-floating scenes of brief and unattached, and two incidents of unnecessary, murders. I suppose you can skip those pages. If you wanted a mystery, this book will bore you to death. I recommend avoiding this book. If Romance is what rings your bells, this book will massively disappoint you by the end. Again, I'd recommend avoiding this book. While there is gentle humor, and perhaps some sharp-elbow but underdone digs at the California New Age milieu, there is no real literary- or gutter- satire or irony. Literary readers will be scratching their heads. Isabel Allende is an experienced award-winning literary writer of many many books, and she has millions of fans. If there was anything metafictional or illuminating of the human condition in this novel, I missed it. If anything, it's mostly a chick-lit read, but not for the sensitive. I frequently see reviews where some readers are upset by a single scary mild attack by a bad guy, or throw a book out with the garbage at the first 'darn', yet strangely, those readers would like 2/3rds of this book, I think. However, they would be throwing up their lunches every 50 or 70 pages by the murders, which, by the way, are not really graphic.
Well. In re-reading what I wrote, I guess I'm saying everyone will be disappointed by this book, but with completely different complaints and disappointments. Bravo, Isabel Allende!
The Marketing Department of Harper Collins should be ashamed of themselves.