I must say that I'm stumped by the rave reviews on this one. I guess I’m squarely in the camp of the reviewers who found this book to be predictable, with a flimsy plot and even flimsier characters. The only thing that kept me reading on was that each “chapter” was only 1-2 pages long. At some point, it was entertaining to see how bad the writing could get. Apparently, there’s nothing that a big name author with a big marketing budget and a nice cover can’t overcome.
There were no unexpected plot twists, no shockers, and really no suspense. This is throw-away fiction at its best (or worst, depending on how you look at it). I think James Patterson would do himself a favor to stop putting his name on these “co-writes” and I think it discredits some of his earlier and much betters solo work.
I found the frequent references to pop culture, celebrities, and brand names to be a lazy convention, allowing the author to “describe” without having to actually go to the effort of crafting any actual description. To say that one character collects watches like Paris Hilton collects shoes, or to describe another as “George Clooney in khakis and docksiders” just smacks of lazy, shortcut writing. There were a few references to people and things that I was not familiar with, rendering the description useless.
Characters acted in ways that were really unbelievable or completely stereotypical. Stereotypes were in full force, with the angst-ridden pot-smoking teen, the anorexic, suicidal teen, the precocious and loveable tween, the workaholic surgeon mother, the happy-go-lucky black sheep uncle, the scumbag attorney, the dedicated detective who goes rogue to continue an investigation against her boss’s orders, and the mercenary ex-CIA operative. Give me one big, huge break here.
If you’re looking for a book that doesn’t tax your brain (or even engage it), that reads fast thanks to the itty bitty chapters, and that you will forget as soon as you close it, this is the book for you.