‘Step on a Crack’ franchise literature

**WARNING: CONTAINS SOME SPOILERS**
  James Patterson’s “Step on a Crack,” co-written with Michael Ledwidge, introduces Detective Michael Bennett, NYPD, and he is sure to become a sympathetic character, especially with women readers.
  One reason is that Bennett is deeply in love with his Irish wife, Maeve — exactly why is never completely developed — except that, as an emergency room nurse, she was a support to everyone who came in contact with her.
  When it’s discovered they can’t have children, Maeve begins adopting orphans, winning over Bennett when he balks for economic reasons, until the Bennett family ultimately has 10 children of varied ethnic backgrounds, ranging in age from 3 to 12. (And some think adoption is a bureaucracy driven, drawn out affair.)
  The tragic point in all this is that it’s Christmastime, New York is festive, and Maeve is in the hospital dying of terminal cancer. Bennett’s tear-wrenching visits to his courageous, forbearing wife are moving enough on their own.  But when the 10 kids are gathered around their mother’s death bed, as they are on Christmas Day, it’s hard not to get stuffed up and sniffle more than a little.
  The cop side of the story has to do with a well-disciplined gang that murders the wife of the former president of the United States. Her state funeral brings the rich and famous together at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where they are taken hostage and ransomed for a few million each, until the total extortion exceeds $75 million. This gang seems to know everything the police and FBI are going to do before they do it, and the reader is left wondering what the gang’s game really is.
  The story vacillates between Bennett’s interactions with his dying wife (she passes away in his arms finally on Christmas night) and his effort to negotiate with Jack, the gang’s brilliant leader and most vicious killer. Ultimately, after three hostages are coldly executed, the money is transferred to a numbered account, and the kidnappers make a highly implausible escape. Only Bennett’s dogged investigation, and a bit of luck, leads to the ne’er-do-wells capture in a completely unrealistic arrest scenario. As they are ferried off to jail, the bad guys aren’t nearly as threatening as they seemed in the cathedral, and their motives turn out to be so venal, it left this reader feeling he’d swallowed a mouthful of cold mashed potatoes.
  “Step on a Crack” is a worthwhile read, if you’re sprawled on a beach soaking up the sun or nestling in an air conditioned room to beat the heat. In other words, it’s a nonthreatening way to structure your free time. It’s also a prime example of everything wrong with many modern novels.
  It is franchise literature. Tom Clancy is heavily into this, as is Clive Cussler, and others. Patterson loans his name to the book for a price, while Ledwidge gets paid for writing a story so cliched, one wonders whether it was the product of a focus group. What we have in the novel is two stories. One, is the female emotional-relationship narrative involving Maeve and the kids. The other, is the male good-versus-evil story pitting Bennett against the chief evildoer, Jack, and his minions. Neither completely fulfills because both are cliches.
  Furthermore, the subtle effeminazation of Bennett’s character detracts from the cop story. He often perceives his family or the streets of New York as a Norman Rockwell painting. That’s so nice. So neutral. A warm and fuzzy, Alan Alda kind of perspective, motivated perhaps by the dirty hand in life he’s been dealt. But not like most NYPD cops. When he finally gets the chance to avenge himself on his criminal nemesis Jack, for instance, he just kicks him once in the face instead of systematically working him over like any man, or even an enraged woman, would.
  I would be nice and say something more positive about “Step on a Crack” artistically, but there’s just nothing there. The book’s probably worth an $8 price to be read when nothing else is available, but you won’t come away from it feeling you experienced something momentous.