The Shadow by James Patterson and Brian Sitts

I was less than enchanted when I learned that Conde Nast, the copyright owners of such iconic characters as The Shadow and Doc Savage, had rescinded the copyright permissions with various groups that were both creating new and acclaimed novels featuring these characters or producing affordable reprints of the original stories. This move was orchestrated in order to grant best-selling book-factory maestro James Patterson exclusive rights to The Shadow in order to make fistfuls of money for all involved. Their legal right has been exercised and the resulting book is exactly the disappointment longtime Shadow fans had expected. And, yes, they are still making fistfuls of money.

 

James Patterson wrote the outline from which author Brian Sitts created this mundane mass-market paperback that never rises above the eighth-grade reading level. Now, I’m all in favor of young readers involving themselves with books, but this isn’t even close to being a responsible narrative. The first Shadow novel, The Living Shadow, published in 1931 and written by Walter B. Gibson under the pen name Maxwell Grant is far superior in every way. Gibson would go on to write 282 Shadow novels of the original 325 novels. 

 

By comparison, James Patterson is equally prolific, at least in number of books published annually. I believe he’s averaging about 15 titles yearly, mostly with co-authors. Patterson writes the outlines and seems to have ceased full-length novel writing some years back. Patterson is a capable writer. Brian Sitts is a capable writer. What they are both lacking is an understanding and appreciation of the source material. Walter B. Gibson could write circles around these two guys on a bad day and make it seem like the work of a genius. An understanding of The Shadow’s rich history coupled with a higher measure of literary talent might have elevated this tasteless porridge into a cause célèbre that might have inspired young and old readers alike. Instead, the event has been reduced to another click-bait headline that provides the world yet another in a long line of “name recognition” doorstops from Grand Central Publishing, a division of the Hachette Book Group (he said sarcastically.) More trees have fallen in the forest.

 

I won’t bother summarizing the plot. The Amazon reviews will provide you everything you need to comprehend about the level of mangled characterizations, lack of mood, juvenile dialogue and kiddie pacing for today’s breathless and eager audience. I mourn for those of you who ignore the reviews and allow this travesty to become your introduction to one of literature’s exciting and fascinating characters. I bought this book hoping my instincts were wrong. Sadly, they weren’t wrong. I enjoyed some of James Patterson’s thrillers when he was actually writing them, but I’m not enjoying his factory inspired assembly line output. The fat lady has finished singing. Show over.