A Pale Imitation

I just finished reading a James Patterson novel that I did not enjoy nor even much like, perhaps because I kept comparing Patterson’s plot to Harper Lee’s masterpiece, To Kill a Mockingbird. An epoch novel stands alone, a pinnacle achieved once. The author who tries to emulate the writer of such a novel often falls woefully short, which is my problem with Alex Cross’s Trial, the newest James Patterson tale.

Great writing has both depth and breadth, an intensity that engages the reader, absorbs the reader into the story. The setting becomes real; the characters well-known; the action believable. There is a gnawing feeling of reading history, rather than fiction, in the words of a great novel. Patterson’s story is far too obviously just another work of fiction: thin, uneven, unbelievable, completely unremarkable, yet destined for the best-seller list. Good marketing makes a modern best-seller, not necessarily good writing.

Ben Corbett is no Atticus Finch! He lacks the courage of his convictions, the wisdom of the ages, the intensity of purpose that make Atticus unique. The judge is a mockery of justice, a racist who is acknowledged and accepted as such – and it underpins the story! Corruption is rife in the small town, deception is a way of life: the best friends of childhood are the worst enemies of adulthood. These are not good people doing bad things; these are bad people who refuse to do anything good. I would say "compare these people in this time and place with Lee's," but there is no comparison to be made. Lee knew it and wrote it well; Patterson didn't.

In telling the story of Detective Alex Cross’s family, Patterson probably means to add depth to the beloved main character in the Alex Cross series; however, the result is opposite the intention. The grandfather, Abraham, is a strong character ala Tom Robinson, but Ben Corbett is so shallow, so woefully inadequate that the strength of Abraham falls victim to the weakness of the story. Whereas Atticus has his daughter, Scout, to reflect and make meaning of life in the small Southern town, Abraham has his grand-daughter, a young woman who gets a kick out of telling a lie in the courtroom to achieve her goal. Neither Atticus nor Abraham would ever have been party to such blatant deception, but Ben Corbett lets it slip by, upset but not morally outraged. In building Alex Cross’s legacy on a lie, the strength of the character developed through the strength of his family is weakened and made ineffectual.

I am disappointed that James Patterson would write such an apparent ghost of a great classic, To Kill a Mockingbird, then corrupt the honesty of the story to achieve a goal only he can define. A good book stands on its own merit and a bad book fails for lack of it: this book can be donated to the library so other readers don’t have to pay the money to buy it themselves.