Science fascinating, story disappointing in ‘Predator’
“Predator” is an apt name for Patricia Cornwell’s 14th Kay Scarpetta novel, as it attempts to ensnare the reader in a morass of incomprehensible plots, vile violence and depressing, irritating characters.
It isn’t just that Cornwell’s work has become a caricature of itself, deteriorating from the fresh and original approach of her early novels to the pedestrian and unbelievable aspects since her eighth outing in this series.
But Cornwell has broken faith with her readers, relying on soap opera-like gimmicks that include killing off a main character who made a Lazurus-like return three novels later; recycling villains and stretching out preposterous plotlines in several novels.
Along the way, Cornwell’s main characters – former medical examiner Kay Scarpetta, her brilliant, troubled niece Lucy and the bull-headed now ex-cop Pete Marino – have become substandard, morose, self-centered and decidedly unpleasant. Not once does one believe that these characters are helping to catch criminals or fighting for justice.
“Predator” dips to a new low in this series. Purportedly, it is about how a killer is made and the inner workings of the criminal mind. At least that’s what the book jacket, the press materials given to critics and Cornwell’s Web site say about the novel. Good thing, because it’s darn near impossible to work that out during the novel.
Sure, there are myriad scenes of Benton Wesley – Scarpetta’s once-dead lover, now alive, who used to be an FBI profiler but now isn’t – running a classified scientific study at a Harvard-affiliated psych hospital.
Though the science is fascinating, the scenes of this study – conveniently called Predator – have a disjointed feel with the rest of the novel. It serves merely as a ploy to keep Kay and Benton apart and provide a provocative title.
(For the record, the actual, mouth-straining name of the study is Prefrontal Determinants of Aggressive-Type Overt Responsivity, but Predator’s a much sexier appellation.)
Scarpetta is the director of forensic science and medicine at the Hollywood (Fla.) National Forensic Academy started by Lucy and a consulting pathologist at the Broward County medical examiner’s office. Marino is the academy’s head of investigations and a part-time death investigator for Broward County.
The once-close friends, whose relationship was built on mutual respect, now are at odds. The former cop has become a motorcycle-riding brute with a sharp tongue, no work ethic and a deep-seated resentment toward Scarpetta.
As Scarpetta looks into an odd suicide and tries to find a subject for Wesley’s study, Marino receives a cryptic phone message that leads them to investigate the odd vanishing of a family of four. Along the way, they look into the unusual disappearance of a mother and daughter from a Christmas store and an old woman’s death – all of which may be linked to harassment from citrus canker inspectors.
Meanwhile, Wesley is looking for the perfect patient for his study and interviewing a compulsive killer who wants his mail.
“Predator’s” disjointed, convoluted and nonsensical plot doesn’t heat up until the last chapter, when resolutions come out of nowhere. And the novel lacks emotion; no matter how violent some scenes are, no matter the characters’ jeopardy du jour, there is a disconnect between the reader and the plot.
Cornwell doesn’t seem to care very much about these people, so why should we? Even a creepy shack in the Everglades where victims are terrorized seems more like a haunted house at Halloween than a chilling killing ground.
Still, Cornwell’s knowledge of forensics and ability to weave it into a story cannot be matched. Through the years, the author has emerged as an expert who has used her own money to assist real crime-solving agencies, including the Hollywood Police Department.
“Predator” shows that Cornwell is just preying on her name. Scarpetta’s reaction to one of her assistants perfectly sums up the novel: “He makes her tired. He annoys her more each day.”
We know just how she feels.