Private Games (edition 2012)

I really enjoyed this, although I found the back story of the plane crashed that killed the Private London team to be a little too rushed. I liked the twists -- as well as the tie in to history with the Furies. A good, quick read ( )

A quick read. The ending is just not plausible. However, I did think the imaginary opening ceremony for the Olympics was WAY better than the actual opening ceremonies! ( )

Excellent james patterson about a terrorist atthe london 2012 olympic games ( )

Cigarettes, soap operas, champagne, potato crisps and James Patterson: none of them benefits you in any way but all are compulsively addictive and, as any addict knows, avoid them altogether because once you start, it’s very difficult to stop.

I’ve just enjoyed [if that’s the right word] a ‘lost weekend’ of my own recently: I managed to stay away from the cigs, champers and crisps, but made up for it by consuming three James Pattersons one after the other, chain-smoking them as it were, over two days.

The prolific Mr. P has already brought out six of a projected twelve books this year but three was my limit. Until next time… The good thing about products from Patterson and Co. [he uses a team of ‘with’ writers] is that you know what to expect: the books are machine-written to a strict formula which includes entirely predictable twists but bars any real surprises.

First up is Private Games, set around the upcoming Olympic Games in London, where ‘Cronus’, a deranged killer, and his three female accomplices, determine to ruin the games which they see as a corruption of the old Olympic ideals. Plus they really enjoy killing people. Their first mistake however is the murder of security consultant Peter Knight’s putative step-father.

Peter is a widower with brattish twins and no nanny who has to balance his private and professional lives when Cronus starts murdering and maiming Olympic athletes. Is the identity of Cronus a stunning surprise? Is the closing ceremony sabotaged by a massive bomb? Are Knight's twins kidnapped and used as leverage? Does the story end happily with even a promise of future romance? Sorry, no spoilers – you’ll have to read it for yourself.

Next is the June release, I, Michael Bennett, fifth in the Michael Bennett series. Now Michael is a widowed New York cop with ten – count them, TEN – adopted children. He has a beautiful [naturally] live-in Irish nanny to take care of the brood and [no surprise] there is an unmistakable but unstated sexual frisson between them.

Bennett is, of course, of Irish descent, went to Catholic school and frequents Irish pubs where he sings mournful Irish songs: when the head of a drug cartel has his old friend [also an Irish cop] killed Michael is enraged and ‘takes him down’, making New York a safer place but unwittingly pinning a target on his own back.

A year later and, quelle surprise, Michael’s family is threatened. He takes the brood out of town to the family cabin but the drug dealer escapes and, mad-dog killer that he is, exacts terrible vengeance on anyone involved in his downfall. Top of the list is Mike and the kids, and the nanny, and even Mike’s grandfather. Gosh!

Finally we have Guilty Wives, a stand-alone book which is unusual in the Patterson canon: lest the reader dismiss Patterson for writing only Dick-fic, he does sneak in the occasional nod to chick-fic, as in this book where the protagonist is a woman, Abbie Elliot, who together with her three best friends goes for a weekend break in Monte Carlo. The ‘ladies’ are middle aged, gorgeous, affluent and unhappily married so its no surprise when the action moves to a private yacht and things get a tad steamy – don't worry, nothing x-rated enough to cause a girl to blush.

They are woken in the morning by French militia who haul them to shore in a state of sexy dishabille: two of the previous night’s party playmates were murdered and, even worse, the dead men were actually the President of France [whom no-one recognized in his toupee] and a bodyguard!

Abbie and her gang are labeled terrorists and slapped into a women’s prison: corrupt warders, girl-on-girl action and lesbian rape beckons, and prison uniform is no substitute for sexy designer clothes. Really, Abbie had no option but to escape and prove who the real killer is. That he’s a homicidal maniac is undoubted – Patterson doesn’t write them any other way.

Oh, and one of her posse is a beautiful black South African, married to an ugly short but very rich Afrikaner who beats her, is obsessively jealous and has a penchant for calling other men ‘my brar’. Oh my, could he possibly have had anything to do with the murders?

Paragraph-long chapters, as many twists as a Free State road, cardboard characters and indifferent writing laden with clichés are hallmarks of the Patterson style – but I’m not slating it. He has had over 80 books published in the last ten years and while his literary talents might not rank much above those of, say, Barbara Cartland, the man is a gifted story teller with a positive genius for getting you to turn the next page. I read three in one sitting so I know. ( )

Jack in London helps with Olympics security. I didn't like this one as much as past Private stories. ( )