*bas bleu ~ give this one a miss!
Scarpetta
I would like to preface this review by stating that I love books, and I have seldom failed to complete reading a book that I had started. Books, to me, are like good friends. Closing a book before it is finished would be a rudeness, similar to hanging up the phone or walking away from a friend in the middle of a conversation. And yet, this is exactly what I wanted to do with Scarpetta; I wanted to just walk away.
There was a time when I eagerly awaited each new Patricia Cornwell release. However, I took a break from her last several books when I found myself becoming increasingly unsatisfied upon their completion.
Reading several positive reviews of Scarpetta, I decided to give Cornwell another try. The opening lines were an auspicious beginning:
“Brain tissue clung like wet, gray lint to the sleeves of Dr. Kay Scarpetta’s surgical gown, and the front of it was splashed with blood. Stryker saws whined, running water drummed, and bone dust sifted through the air like flour. Three tables were full. More bodies were on the way.”
Sadly, a gripping story failed to materialize. Instead, the plot degenerated into disjointed descriptions: a phobic, buff dwarf who was the primary suspect in a series of murders; Benton Wesley’s counseling sessions with his therapist where he explored the sexual issues he was experiencing in his marriage to Scarpetta. Even Marino was not immune to his turn under the microscope. The reader is treated to a view of his “new and improved” life -- a squalid apartment, AA meetings, and recollections of his sexual assault of Scarpetta.
And let’s not forget the change of setting: all of the main characters have moved from Virginia, and the action now centers on Boston and New York City. I am a New York and New England native, and some books really work in this setting; for example, can you imagine Robert B. Parker’s Spenser series set anywhere but Boston? But Scarpetta is definitely a Southern girl, and the new setting is jarring to say the least. The characters seem out of place in their new environment, and this sense of discomfort carries over to the readers as well.
Cornwell has also used this book as a bully pulpit for what appear to be her current “causes”: animal rights, gay relationships, puppy mills, and breast implants, to name a few. The result is a confusing, rambling “plot” that fails to deliver the impact of Cornwell’s earliest works in this series. In fact, it bears almost no similarity to her first gripping novels. Do yourself a favor and give this one a miss.