Day Nineteen, Chapter Nineteen
Man, I really need to take this thing one day at a time – thinking about how much more of my life will be wasted on writing about this crap is going to kill me. Still, what was I thinking?
Does anyone care about plot points? I don’t think I do. And if you do, The 9th Judgment by James Patterson is available at fine independent bookstores everywhere. Or in your local Walmart. Go get your own copy.
Business: Apparently, Claire Washburn, forensic pathologist and member of the Women’s Murder Club, is overweight – Patterson seemingly has a problem with that fact, as he offers this critical assessment, rather than just mentioning it in passing:
She was wearing a floral shower cap and an apron over her XXL scrubs – still carrying some poundage from her pregnancy on her size-sixteen frame.
Hell man, you made this character up, you don’t have to give her such a hard time. Put her on a frickin’ diet if you don’t like it. Really, a floral showercap?
I like this description of a photo that Claire has on her desk of the Women’s Murder Club in all their glory:
There was Yuki, all suited up, her dark hair parted in the middle, falling in two glossy wings to her chin; Cindy was grinning, her slightly overlapping front teeth drawing attention to how pretty she really is; and then there was Claire, buxom and beautiful in her midforties.
And there was I, towering over them all at five ten, wearing my blond hair in a ponytail and sporting a dead-serious look on my face. The thing is, I think of myself as lighthearted. I wonder where I got that idea.
I think that’s a fairly perfect example of what the writing is like in a Patterson novel. He holds your hand – rather tightly – as he walks you through his descriptive prose, one foot in front of the other, stifling all imagination. I suppose that’s what readers want in one of his books – to be swept along, away from reality, someone telling you every detail of another life so that you don’t have to think about your own. As an admitted book snob, I want a little more out of the books I read – if it’s this obvious that not much effort has gone into the crafting of sentences, why should I bother? If you don’t bother, as the author, why should I?
Answer: because I had the brilliant idea to read each of the 117 chapters in this book, one day at a time & write about it and now I’m trapped in this endless project for the rest of the spring and summer. Idiot.
Go to Day Twenty.