London Bridges by James Patterson

I usually enjoy James Pattersons’ Alex Cross stories. I am not a die-hard fan, but I have always found myself entertained when reading most of the previous novels. But London Bridges hit rock bottom almost from the very beginning. The story is made from the same formula the past 3-4 Cross-stories has been, and you can almost guess what will happen in the super-short chapters. First we are inside the mind of one or more of the villains while they commit some gruesome crime, and the plotline is laid out. Then Dr Cross enters the stage, usually semi-depressed over something in his private life, a condition not made any better by the crime he is called in to solve, again usually with a bunch of colleagues, who can be detectives or federal agents, depending on where you are in the series. This time he is upset because of his youngest son, who lives with his mother in Seattle, a long way from Washington DC, where Cross resides with his older kids and his grandmother. Cross is also upset because he has to break up a date with his girlfriend Jamilla, a detective living in San Francisco, in order to get to the scene of this novels ‘basic’ crime. This time the villain The Wolf has blown a trailerpark community off the face of the earth, and threatens to do the same to some of the world’s major cities, if he is not paid a gazillion dollars and if some political prisoners are not set free. A deadline is given, the clock is ticking and Cross travels from America to Europe and back again and then to Europe and then to USA again within a week or so, in order to catch The Wolf and his fellow thugs, each of the thugs acting out their piece of The Wolf’s big puzzle and way to world dominion. The last 10 pages are utterly confusing, there is no tail nor head, the story seems to be all over the place, and at last you really could not care less if Cross and his whole family will actually survive the ordeals. This book is not recommend for anyone excpet die hard Patterson/Cross fans. It does not live up to the expectations, but if Patterson can write 5-6 novels a year, then maybe there is an explanation for this book’s lacking in quality!