Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *
When it comes to writing Crime Fiction there is probably nobody more prodigious or capable of such a vast wealth of tension in their words than American writer James Patterson. When it comes to undoubtedly his greatest creation, Detective Alex Cross, that output generates enough steam from the ideas being poured out that it would put the weight of pressure that is ready to explode under Yellowstone Park seem like a damp dish rag ready to be put out to dry in the Florida sunshine.
In the latest of the novels to feature the home loving but equally fascinated by psychology detective, Cross My Heart, James Patterson returns to great form after the huge disappointment that was Merry Christmas Alex Cross and re-installs a belief in justice in the Washington area and a belief in the detective, a belief that was nowhere to found in the previous book.
In amongst the confines of the Cross household, changes are afoot as the detective’s two older children are growing up fast in a house that has always been a refuge for the family against the happenings that go on in the country’s capital and the matriarch of the family goes into her 10th decade full of more beans and spirit than most can manage in their 50s. It is a refuge that is about to get unwelcome attention from possibly Alex Cross’ greatest threat to life since Anton Christyakov prowled the streets as The Big Bad Wolf.
Whereas Merry Christmas Alex Cross felt like a weak and tame affair, lacking in true direction and jumping upon a backdrop of terrorism that would have been left best to other writers, Cross My Heart is a pounding, riveting book worthy of both Alex Cross and James Patterson’s enormous stature. From the very start it never gives up, it never drops its pace or quality and is relentless in its quarry of attaining the trust of the reader once more. Like a serial killer hiding in plain sight around Foggy Bottom or a dishonest politian securing an illegal deal in amongst the chess boards that line the rim of DuPont Circle, Cross My Heart wants to be found, it needs to be seen and devoured and digested in only the way James Patterson can make it happen.
Whilst it takes time to erase an book that has done nothing to stimulate the mind or the reader’s soul, Cross My Heart has gone a long way to putting that right and too leave the story in the way that the writer has, shows possibly more commitment to the series as a whole that would have thought possible when putting down in exasperation the previous and unfulfilling chapter in the life of Alex Cross.
Ian D. Hall