The reason I'm not a fan of the thriller genre is the sameness of the plots, the artificial deviousness of the conspiracies, and the simplistic imagining of the nature of evil. All of these elements combine to make the typical thriller fiction banal and completely beholden to the requirements of the plot. Patterson's attempt to break free from this trap is simply to ignore the necessities of the plot and proceed as if what follows is a logical consequence of what came before. It's a flawed approach that results in a story that makes no sense.
For example, in Jack & Jill, we're asked to believe that a carefully planned, professional crime to kill one specific person is somehow best served by warning the victim first and leaving a trail of evidence at a series of murders that leads directly to the culprits. It's a ridiculous premise that shows how little thought Patterson put into his story before rushing it to publication. The secondary story of a child murderer is actually more believable and interesting, which is a sad commentary on the quality of the main plot.
Worst of all, Patterson is one of those authors who constantly reminds us of how much smarter, more observant, and more dedicated our hero is than his co-workers, especially his bosses. We're bombarded with assurances that the successful resolution of these crimes depends entirely on our hero, only to have the entire farce of a novel resolve each investigation with basic police work that undermines the need for a trained psychologist/profiler like Dr. Cross. In fact, Dr. Cross seems completely unnecessary in this story.
Most of this novel feels unnecessary as well. Patterson's writing technique can be aptly compared to the actions of the CIA director in the book. At one point, Cross drives from his home in Southeast DC to Langley, Virginia, for a meeting with the CIA director. It's a 45-minute trip if traffic is good. He spends a few minutes there talking to the director, who then tells him to follow her back to her home in Chevy Chase, Maryland. That's another 45-minute trip. However, Chevy Chase is only a 15-minute trip from Cross's home in DC. Patterson is like that CIA director, forcing us to take a roundabout route that leads us right back to where we started.
The better parts of this novel are clearly copied from better books, and many of the actual scene details are stolen from well-written thrillers. Once you remove the thin veneer of borrowed quality, what's left is an author who thinks he's a master of taut prose and misdirection but is actually prone to an excessive amount of flabby cliches. He also makes the fatal error of revealing the identity of the villain by making them the only non-repeating character who is described in detail. And let's not forget the obvious future damsel in distress whose fate is so clumsily determined that I had to force myself to read through the final 50 pages just so I could write this review with fresh memories of Patterson's literary crimes.
In those final pages, I noticed several more absurdities. For instance, Patterson refers to a character as the "SEXY SPINSTER." It's a ridiculous and inappropriate term that he continues to use throughout the book. There's also a scene where Dr. Inspector Cross spends nearly an hour crouched at a window seat staring at a bus shelter poster for a Calvin Klein perfume. He somehow manages to read the properly punctuated graffiti written above the model's head, which is quite remarkable considering the distance. And why is he spending so much time staring out the window when he's supposed to be actively looking for evidence? He only finds the evidence when he stops obsessing over the perfumed waif ad. That hour of his time should definitely not be billable to the DC taxpayers.
Finally, Patterson has a strange writing tic where he makes allusions to the murders of the Kennedy brothers and Martin Luther King as if they prove the existence of conspiracies. However, when we look at the facts, there is no evidence to support a larger conspiracy in the case of the Kennedy assassinations. Oswald was clearly a deranged individual acting alone. And yet, Patterson continues to use these allusions as a crutch when he has nothing else reasonable to say. It's a lazy and ineffective writing technique that only serves to further undermine the credibility of his story.
In conclusion, Jack & Jill is not a thriller novel. It's a jumbled mess of words that only appears to be a thriller novel if you don't look too closely. It's filled with absurdities, cliches, and stolen ideas, and it fails to deliver on any level. I would not recommend this book to anyone, especially not to those who are looking for a good thriller. There are far better options available out there. \\n HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA\\n