This book was so completely terrible, so absolutely lacking in anything resembling worth, that I simply had to talk about it. It is so bad that I couldn't believe it, and kept reading with the sole purpose to find out how bad it could really get, and so I could tell everybody I knew how totally, completely, wholly bad it was. The only other books I have ever even started to read that were this bad were a few cheesy romance novels, and I wondered how even those could get published.
Where to begin? I suppose if I had to explain why this book was so amazingly awful in a few words, I could simply point out that the characters were flat, uninteresting stereotypes, the plot was a sad, lame attempt at copying an Indiana Jones movie smashed together with a Dan Brown novel, and the writing itself was so incompetent that a seventh grade teacher would be hard-pressed to give it a good grade.
Then there's the fact that the motivations of characters and events are told to us with embarrassing clumsiness, major plot points are illogical to the point of absurdity (even beyond the suspension of disbelief you need for a story that revolves around the magical power of the Great Pyramid), and sweeping generalizations based on nationality are made at every turn, with the Evil Americans heading the pack.
But there's so much more to the horrific tragedy that is this book!
The plot is basically this: the missing top of the Great Pyramid of Giza has magical powers that will give one country on Earth supreme power if they put some dirt in it on a certain date. But of course, the missing pieces are missing, aren't they? They have been cleverly hidden in the seven wonders of the ancient world, to prevent some a-hole nation from gaining too much power. Guess which a-hole nation is trying to steal power a week before the special day? Also, if the missing pieces aren't put back on top of the Pyramid by noon on the special day, a big sunspot will melt everybody on the planet. Or something.
The heros of our story are trying to stop all the bad stuff from happening, naturally. We're given an awkward alliance of nations that the rest of the world doesn't seem to think are important - Ireland, Canada, Spain, New Zealand, Israel (Israel? really?), Jamaica, the United Arab Emirates, and Australia. Oh, and there's a little girl, on whom everything rests. The bad guys are the Americans, who stomp around killing people, stealing things, and being uniformly evil, and the European Union, with an evil Italian priest, the little girl's evil twin, and a whole bunch of French guys who are also uniformly evil, if devoid of distinction.
And that's about it for depth of story. Everything is cobbled together directly from Indiana Jones, with a healthy dose of Dan Brown conspiracy (complete with Freemason US Presidents and Catholic Church sun-worship) and the Australian version of Dirk Pitt from Clive Cussler's adventure novels. We're given a load of ancient wonders which have been hidden for millennia but which are easily found thanks to some ancient documents and scrolls. Each one has a load of "traps" which are always easily and quickly neutralized by our heroes, but which kill hordes of faceless bad guys. There's plenty of action all over the globe, from robbing the Louvre to cave-diving in Egypt to breaking into Guantanamo Bay to trekking across the Iraqi desert to murder on the plains of Kenya, but all of it takes place within a week and requires a private plane with unlimited fuel (stolen from Saddam Hussein) and a cheeky Kiwi pilot who apparently never needs to sleep.
The characters are so poorly drawn that the soullessly wicked Americans aren't even the worst offense (although the main evil one is named Judah - come on!). A couple of chapters in to the book, convinced that Reilly must hate Americans with an unholy passion, I skipped to the Q & A with the author at the back of the book, where he says that he doesn't hate Americans - heck, he's even met some and a few of them are actually quite intelligent! - but that he just needed a villain and they were so convenient. I then realized that Reilly is just totally incapable of characterization. Our main hero is presented as cool, detached, and lethal, but with a soft spot for the little girl - but this all has to be told to us (over and over) because the character's actions are completely inconsistent. The other characters have no distinction whatsoever, and are only delineated by goofy nicknames given to them by the little girl and by their adherence to the stereotypes of their given nationality.
By far the worst insult to the intelligence of the reader, however, is the extremely atrocious writing. There is an excessive use of demonstrative punctuation: exclamation points, italics, random paragraph and sentence breaks, the hyphen trail-off followed by a combination of all of the above. There is the recurrent use of sound-effect words, too, so one is constantly left with the feeling that the author is trying to describe a movie he saw once, but is too drunk to command an adequate vocabulary.
I could go on and on about how truly abysmal this book is (and yes, I did have to check the thesaurus for more ways to say "bad"), but really, I've already spent too much time on it already. Please, for the love of God, don't read this book.