12th of never

Oh dear, oh dear dear dear. Mr James Patterson your Women's Murder Club is descending into sheer drivel slowly book by book. This latest instalment is nothing short of ludicrous.

The book kicks off with Lindsay Boxer giving birth to her much longed for baby, she makes great strides in telling us how much she longs for her baby and how strong the bond is with her newborn. The birth lasts all of 9-10 paragraphs almost as though Patterson is scared to put the subject of a childbirth within his hallowed pages in any great detail. Lindsay's post birth glow doesn't last though as practically 2 chapters later and with a fussy baby who won't settle suddenly she and Joe decide in 2 minutes that she should go back to work with her baby only 2-3 weeks old. So much for your baby being much longed for and having a wonderful bond.

The storyline then descends even further. The plot lines are so see through and transparent, the book just follows the same old tired format of Lindsay investigates case whilst Lindsay tracks down multiple killers although to be fair I'm not sure what the heck Cindy and Claire were in this book. The ending was clear pretty early on except perhaps one aspect and it just lacks all the expectation and build up of the earlier novels.

I found the whole sickness of Lindsay's baby poorly written, firstly that Patterson had Lindsay dotting in and out of the hospital between cases just to check up on her allegedly dying 4 week old was ridiculous and then to have her diagnosed with leukaemia and having only a 50% survival rate to the way the book ended was frankly unrealistic and an insult to reader intelligence.

I've kept on with this series based upon the early novels but now I'm not sure how much more investment I can make in these characters who have rapidly become very uninspiring and very shallow. Maybe it's time to retire Boxer and her chums and have her move to DC with her husband Joe and live a quiet life whilst her chums get on with life in San Fransisco.