Let me tell you an extraordinary story about my bestselling novel Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas.
Soon after it was published, I was on a television show and the host shared this story with me: The previous night he had given Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas to his wife to read. He went off to sleep, only to be awakened by his wife at 2:30 in the morning. She apologized profusely and said she'd just finished the book, and "I had to hug you and tell you how much I love you."
That is why I wrote Sam's Letters to Jennifer. Please enjoy it and spread the word.
Unlike Patterson's Alex Cross thrillers, this sentimental tale does not translate well to audio. The plot twists seem all the more absurd when read aloud, and the audiobook's maudlin music, inserted during the story's poignant moments, is as distracting and disturbing as a TV laugh track. Jennifer, a newspaper columnist who's grieving the death of her husband, has more reason to mourn when her beloved grandmother, Sam, falls into a coma. Jennifer rushes to Sam's home in Lake Geneva, Wis., where she finds a packet of letters addressed to her. The letters detail her grandmother's life story, including an affair she had with a mysterious man. Jennifer takes comfort in the letters, and at the same time, embarks on her own romance with Brendan, an old friend. Heche's thin, mousy voice is perfect for the perpetually worried Jennifer, but she rarely varies her intonation, not even for Brendan's dialogue. Alexander does a better job as Sam, conveying the elderly woman's concern for Jennifer, but her performance isn't sufficient to elevate this flawed audiobook. Simultaneous release with the Little, Brown hardcover (Forecasts, June 7). (June) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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1 . Wow!
Posted February 26, 2010 by Denise , BellmoreBe prepared to cry. This book will keep you guessing until the end. Fast easy read.
Little, Brown and Company
February 28, 2006
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Excerpt from Sam's Letters to Jennifer by James Patterson
SAM AND I are sitting on a mostly deserted beach on Lake Michigan a little north of the Drake Hotel in Chicago. The Drake is filled with treasured memories for both of us, and we had dinner at our favorite table there earlier. I need to be with Sam tonight, because it's one year since, well, everything happened that shouldn't have happened--it's one year since Danny died.
"This is the spot where I met Danny, Sam. In May, six years ago," I say.
Sam is a good listener who holds eye contact beautifully and is almost always interested in what I have to say, even when I'm being a bore, like now. We've been best friends since I was two, maybe even before that. Just about everybody calls us "the cutest couple," which is a little too saccharine for both of our tastes. But it happens to be true.
"Sam, it was freezing that night Danny and I met, and I had a terrible cold. To make it worse, I had been locked out of our apartment by my old boyfriend Chris, that awful beast."
"That despicable brute, that creep," Sam contributes. "I never liked Chris. Can you tell?"
"So this nice guy, Danny, comes jogging by and he asks if I'm all right. I'm coughing and crying and a total mess. And I say, 'Do I look like I'm all right? Mind your own blanking business. You're not going to pick me up, if that's what you're thinking. Scram!'" I snorted a laugh Sam's way.
"That's where I got my nickname, 'Scram.' Anyway, Danny came back on the second half of his run. He said he could hear me coughing for two miles down the beach. He brought me coffee, Sam. He ran up the beach with a hot cup of coffee for a complete stranger."
"Yes, but a beautiful stranger, you have to admit."
I stopped talking, and Sam hugged me and said, "You've been through so much. It's awful and it's unfair. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it all better for you."
I pulled out a folded, wrinkled envelope from the pocket of my jeans. "Danny left this for me. In Hawaii. One year ago today."
"Go ahead, Jennifer. Let it out. I want to hear everything tonight."
I opened the letter and began to read. I was already starting to choke up.
Dear, wonderful, gorgeous Jennifer . . .
You're the writer, not me, but I had to try to put down some of my feelings about your incredible news. I always thought that you couldn't possibly make me any happier, but I was wrong.
Jen, I'm flying so high right now I can't believe what I'm feeling. I am, without a doubt, the luckiest man in the world. I married the best woman, and now I'm going to have the best baby with her. How could I not be a pretty good dad, with all that going for me? I will be. I promise.