The Final Chapter

Falling out of love is a deeply unsatisfying experience.

For me it's finally happened after nearly 14 years, and I'm kind of upset about it if I'm being honest.

I'd put my faith in this relationship, which started so promisingly with hours of extremely satisfying pleasure, and without realising it had soon become a faithful partner, being there for every significant moment, sharing the highs and the lows, the ecstacy and the agony, and loving every minute of it.

But it began to change, about half a decade ago actually.

Someone else got involved in this relationship, and while initially it was a little bit exciting, as I enjoyed the new input, wondered where this menage a trois might take me, and allowed myself to go along for the ride, little did I realise that things were a-changing.

Without warning there was suddenly another, and another, and another still, and slowly but surely I've come to the realisation that the voice, the spirit, the world that I had fallen in love with had changed beyond repair.

I've just spent the last four days making sure that my feelings, or rather my new state of non-feeling towards this relationship, were really as they seem to be, and I'm sorry to say that they are.

He was once my favourite author, the architect of Alex Cross, one of my favourite literary characters, but James Patterson has lost his identity, lost his bite, lost my interest.

Patterson is these days nothing more than an ideas machine, who gives the synopsis of his latest plot to a 'co-author' and lets them emulate his voice, which they have done with increasing ineptitude over the last few years.

I miss his voice. The early books remain favourites, but having reached the end of my tether with this charade I'm finally facing the fact that I haven't really enjoyed a Patterson book for years. Instead I have dutifully picked up the latest hardback, which have appeared as often as every six weeks of late, like a betrayed partner who clings to the hope that 'things will get better soon'.

So there we have it. It's over.

Yes, I'll no doubt return occasionally for old times sake when Alex Cross is dusted off, but no longer will I be, as Stephen King can still clam of me, a 'constant reader'. I'm done.

It's been fun, but it's time to move on and find a new love.

And Mark Bellingham might just make the cut.....