Last year after writing a number of love letters, which I have been reposting this month, I did a stint of Dear John Letters, breaking up with Kathryn Heigl, James Patterson, George Lucas, House MD, potentially Chelsea Handler, McDonalds, and my grey yoga pants. Many seemed like omens–George Lucas sold Star Wars, House ended its run, and I became a vegan a shortly thereafter. It was hard to pick just one to repost, but in the spirit of literature, I’ll give you my Patterson break up as it still represents our current status.
Dear James Patterson,
Ours is a complicated relationship, without a doubt. I have never shown you public respect, likening your books to potato chips–easily consumed with little substance. But in private, I enjoyed reading them for distractions, in particular the Alex Cross and Women’s Murder Club Series. When I didn’t feel I could stand another foray into free indirect discourse or political allegory, I’d grab one of your books and lose a few hours. You were essentially my book booty call.
I will say that you have a great sense of pacing and twists and so for that I’ve been willing to overlook your lax character development and often ridiculous dialogue. (FYI, groups of women, particularly professional women, do not refer to each other as ‘girl’ or ‘girlfriend.’) Our relationship was fine for what it was and I appreciated it when you did try to stretch yourself, although sadly that often showed why you should stick to what you’re good at.
So here’s the issue: your series have no end game. How many times can Cross have a girlfriend/wife/lover who ends up dead/kidnapped/in witness protection? How many times can we have the same masterminds interfering? I just can’t commit to you because you can’t commit to any sort of logical series arc. And to make matters worse, you co-write a bunch of this stuff. Really? You need help with that stuff?
I just can’t keep using you like this. You don’t fill my needs and I think we both know it’s time for me to delete your number from my phone. I promise, no more drunk dials for you, even Kiss the Girls. I wish you the best.