Mary's Review: The Phantom of Manhattan by Frederick Forsyth

Blind fan worship can be a very bad thing. In the case of this book, its on the level of eye-searingly bad. Phantom fans beware. Of course one can suspect something's amiss when Mr. Forsyth dedicates an entire introduction to decrying the author of the original Phanton novel, Gaston Leroux, in favor of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical adaptation. If one does not take this as warning sign enough and continues into the body of the novel, prepare to be met with a barrage of bad writing, poor characterization, very loosely tied narratives, and our beloved Erik dressing up as a clown. No, we are not making this up. Apparently Mr. Forsyth was unsatisfied leaving the musical as it was (choosing to completely ignore Erik's death in the original novel) and so decided to publish this little narrative, wherein Erik (the Phantom to you sole Webber-ities) moves to America, works on the pier (hence the clown costume), makes many thousands of dollars, and meets Christine again, whom he somehow mysteriously impregnated during the timeline of the play. When? The author doesn't seem to know either. It's one of many things the reader must simply swallow in order to finish the book. Did we mention that, like most glorified fanfiction, this story entertains the delightful misconception that Christine was passionately in love with Erik, as opposed to say, fearing and pitying him? It is far from true that glorified, published fanfiction can't be done well (read: Susan Kay's Phantom), its just that this piece of loathesome garbage was unable to accomplish it. Try again Mr. Forsyth. Or, don't. Please.
Final Verdict: 1Q, 1P