Dear Patricia Cornwell,
I wrote you a letter back in 2005 after you released Trace. I was, quite frankly, worried about the direction that you were taking poor Kay Scarpetta. And I must say that The Book of the Dead has not done anything to set my worries to rest.
I'll start with the things that I liked. I read once that you should always open a critique with things that you like. I liked that you let Scarpetta finally make fun of herself for some of the conspiracies which she imagines are aimed in her direction. It beggared the imagination that absolutely everybody was out to get the poor woman. In this book, many people were *not* out to get her. And that was a refreshing change. And for that I give you an extra star.
But, oh dear, the rest of the book...
First of all, shock schlock is one of the most virulent diseases of modern airplane novels. The world doesn't need another entry in the race to find The Most Sadistic Serial Killer Ever. Just say no. Please work with a nice straightforward killing, and solve it! I realize that this sounds terribly retro. However, I am tired of seeing writers burn their creativity in an effort to imagine a string of ever more icky things to do with eye sockets and bath tubs.
Second, you failed to get my disbelief to suspend. Too many coincidences. Too many links between all the characters and killings. Too much. Way too much. My disbelief actually didn't even levitate, let alone suspend. Honestly, I think that you ought to have a serious chat with your editor on this point. That is the person who should get paid to warn you that you have broken your plot. And you should listen to them if they do make warnings like that.
Last but not least, Dr. Self. Drop her. Drop this thread. Drop this character. I repeat the "oh dear, oh dear" when it comes to Dr. Self. She is not readable. She is not interesting. She is not anything. Let poor Kay settle down in Charleston without any more outside fuss than her already tangled relationships provide.
Actually, that brings me to a suggestion. Once upon a time, detective novels did this quaint thing where the world around them featured as a character in the work. The novelists used the local color and the detective became a vehicle through which the reader could explore the world. You seemed as though you kind of were starting to get at this with Bull. That was good, but then you got distracted. You wandered off and forgot about him. It was sad. Why don't you try that the next time?
I keep reading your books, largely because I still have a strong affection for Kay from back in the day. I also kind of like that you are one of the few mystery writers who allows your character change, and doesn't keep them encased in a plot-like amber. Please don't make me regret liking you for that, okay?
Thanks for your time.
Sincerely,
the frumious bandersnatch.