How many times can we recycle the "brooding ex-SAS soldier" trope before it finally crumbles into dust?
That was my first thought when I saw the description for Revenge. (That, and "Oh look, another James Patterson co-author credit.") But look, sometimes you don't want a five-course meal of psychological trauma. Sometimes—usually on a rainy Tuesday when the library is dead quiet—you just want the literary equivalent of a bag of salty chips. You know it's not great for you, but you're gonna finish the whole thing anyway.
I made the same grim little snack-deal with Hannibal Rising, which is nastier but still has that shelf-stable franchise taste.So I grabbed this for my commute. And honestly? It did the job. Mostly.
The Voice in My Ear
Let's be real for a second. With these massive thriller factories, the narration is usually the make-or-break factor. If the reader phones it in, the whole house of cards collapses.
Gavin Osborn, though? He actually commits.
I couldn't find a ton on his background before diving in, but he brings this gritty, grounded energy to David Shelley (our SAS hero). He manages to make the dialogue sound like actual people talking in London, not just characters reciting plot points. There's a specific texture to his voice—clear, dramatic, but not over-acting—that kept me plugged in even when the plot started to feel a bit... familiar.
(Shirley, my cat, was asleep on the passenger seat for most of this, so she clearly didn't find his voice threatening. Take that as you will.)
When the Formula Drags
Here's the thing about Patterson collaborations. You expect short chapters. You expect cliffhangers. You expect speed.
Revenge has the darkness—we're talking a dead daughter, seedy underbelly, drugs, the works. It's grim. But the pacing? It's weirdly uneven. There were moments where I was gripping the steering wheel, totally in it. Then there were stretches—huge stretches—where I felt like we were just treading water waiting for the next explosion.
Some reviews I read called it "unputdownable." Others called it "boring." I'm sitting somewhere in the middle. It's not boring, exactly. It's just... standard. If you've read a thriller in the last ten years, you've read this book. The "grieving parents hire a tough guy" setup is classic, sure, but it didn't really bring anything new to the table. It's competent. It's dark. But it lacks that specific dread I look for. It's action-movie dark, not soul-crushing dark.
Under The Dome: A Novel is the kind of sprawl that actually lets the dread seep into the wallpaper.Who's This Actually For?
If you want a gritty London thriller to fill your commute and don't mind familiar territory, this'll scratch that itch. Osborn's narration alone makes it worth the listen for Patterson fans. But if you're hunting for genuine horror or something that'll stick with you past the final chapter? Keep looking. This one's comfort food, not cuisine.
Closing the Book (Literally)
Is it a revelation? No. (And seriously, stop expecting revelations from the Patterson factory.)
But if you need something to fill the silence while you're driving or folding laundry, it works. Gavin Osborn elevates the material way above what it probably deserves. He sells the emotion even when the writing feels a bit by-the-numbers.
Just don't go in expecting to be haunted. You won't be checking the locks at 2 AM. You'll just be wondering if you should've been an SAS soldier instead of a librarian. (Okay, maybe that's just me.)
