Four Blind Mice (Alex Cross) (original 2002; edition 2003)

I don't really hold any expectation of James Patterson novels beyond basic entertainment at the afternoon television sitcom level - it passes the time, but rarely is memorable.

Thankfully this novel wasn't so bland as many of his others; a pretty decent story line, somewhat based in reality (there were some serious massacres in Vietnam which once found out about were covered up and despite ample evidence were never prosecuted) and enough mystery and suspense to keep the pages turning.

Like his over novels however the story isn't particularly deep, the characters are all rather like a thin sheet of paper - present but not much to them. So whilst it's entertaining to a point I wouldn't hold an expectation of being thrilled. ( )

I liked all the references to Vietnam, and it was hard to guess what was coming next. ( )

James Patterson steals a page from fellow bestselling author [a:John Grisham|721|John Grisham|http://photo.goodreads.com/authors/1198174022p2/721.jpg], with a ex army member wrongfully accused of murder. Alex Cross faces off against four murderous army specialist. There was something about the novel that just fell flat. Patterson's prose can sometimes be too simple and I'm afraid this is one of those times. ( )

excellent reading, fast pace, no slow to interest parts ( )

The more James Patterson I read, the more boggled my mind becomes about the fanatical popularity of this writer. Sure, the stories are always compelling, the action non-stop, our heroes Alex Cross and John Sampson (not to mention Nana Mama and the kids) are all stellar individuals we love to hunker down with - But can we continue to call it literature? I think not - there must be a genre title for this type of story telling. It is so simple, condescending - the 2-3 page chapters that lob whoppers of action, spoon-feeding it to us, but it just lacks depth, emotion, itellectual challenge, novelty, wit - the things that stay with you for a while after reading a great novel. In the same genre Jeffrey Deaver and Elizabeth George come to mind as a means of comparison to what I'm talking about. Reading Patterson feels like eating with a really bad cold (which I'm currently nursing - hence, the analogy) - I can taste the texture - it's meaty and salty or it's a dougnut and is sweet -but not the actual flavours, spices, essences, things that would make me wonder - what's in this - it tastes so GOOD?! I'll stop ramblng and close by saying that I suppose I'll never stop eating fast food or reading James Patterson, but it'll always be filet mignon and chocolate souflee that I will dream of. ( )