Day 39, Chapter 39
Soapbox Sunday: I’ve heard the argument that it’s better that people are reading books like James Patterson’s rather than not reading at all, but after reading 125 pages of The 9th Judgment, I am inclined to dismiss this. I understand that people want the escape – believe me, this is my primary reason for reading – but I don’t subscribe to the notion that the writing within that escape has to be so unbelievably poor. Since I started the 117 Days, I have read five other books in my spare time – I don’t mention this out of arrogance or any sort of elitist, snobbish attitude, this is just what I do when I’m away from James Patterson. Like I said, reading is my escape, too. They were a literary debut, a war novel, a crime novel, a short story collection, and a comic novel – any of which were far more compelling in plot and structure than anything I have read in Patterson. I was never wanting for faster pacing, shorter chapters, or cliffhanger endings, yet each contained more than enough to keep me fully entertained while I was on the page. I think it’s just a matter of readers branching out, expanding their horizons a little, that will open up entirely new worlds to them that don’t have to be so grimly illustrated. Even within the same genre: I have read hundreds of crime novels that were better written and far more compelling in plot than the tripe Patterson is producing. I would just encourage his readers to try something a little more challenging and see where that leads them. Back to the TV? Fine. At least you tried.
Conklin and I climbed past the angled rows of parked cars, my feelings of dread increasing the higher we went. By the time we greeted McNeil and Chi at the top of the fourth floor, I felt as if spiders were using the tops of my arms as a freeway, working their way under the hair at the back of my neck.
So there’s another pair of victims in the parking garage and I will admit, this is getting a little f-ed up. Help me out, JPatt. Lighten the mood.
My vision started to fade. I felt the ground shift under my feet and heard Conklin’s voice. “Linds? Lindsay?” His arm around my waist stopped me from dropping to the floor.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I nodded and mumbled, “I’m fine. Fine. I haven’t eaten today.” I was annoyed at myself for looking weak. For looking female.
There you have it, ladies. If you thought James Patterson was a skeevy, perverted misogynist before Chapter 39….
Go to Day 40.