Sidney Sheldon was a bright light during my dark and awkward teen years. The first hardcover book I owned, If Tomorrow Comes, was and still is my favorite among all his works. It's the story of a woman, who after being imprisoned for a crime she didn't commit, became a con artist and a modern-day Robin Hood by launching ingenious, daring schemes across a whirlwind of exotic and luxurious locations. Clever characters, plots with more twists and turns than a corkscrew, and the glorious rise of the underdog--it's vintage Sheldon. Damn hard to put down. It was therefore with eager anticipation that I began reading the sequel to Master of the Game, one of Sheldon's greatest. 
Mistress of the Game,written by Tilly Bagshawe, chronicles the ambitions and struggles of the latest generation of Blackwells, America's royalty whose fortunes were founded on South African diamond mining. I was not familiar with Bagshawe's works nor had I heard of her before (She's an expert on "bonkbuster" chicklit, from what I gathered after a quick post-read digging. Bonkbuster, meaning plenty of raunchy sex). But since she was approached by the Sheldon family for this difficult project--an honor for any writer--I was game for a good armchair adventure. Sadly, the eager anticipation quickly turned to disappointment as I went through the first few chapters.
To be fair, Bagshawe has remained faithful to one of Sheldon's hallmarks--a cliffhanger at the end of each chapter--and has shown a virtuoso skill for metaphors, which can add immense depth to a character or a scene. But early on, this reader's suspension of disbelief was repeatedly jarred by inane statements such as, "No one had told Lexi she was suppose to be in mourning for her mother. As a result, she yelled, gurgled, smiled..." Lexi, by the way, is a newborn. Then there's the unenlightened generalization made by what was suppose to be an insightful psychiatrist, "Dead mothers and estranged fathers: two of the key ingredients for psychopathic behavior.This was the stuff that serial killers, rapists and suicide bombers were made of." If it were that simple, all orphans should be kept under close surveillance.
Bagshawe seemed to struggle in portaying her heroine, Lexi. The grownup Blackwell heiress was painted as promiscuous (she probably had sex with over a hundred guys, the character thought) but was very cautious about her public image, as the author kept stressing. Really? And yet Bagshawe had the tabloids labeled her protaganist a party girl, and had her arrive at her internship with a rock star notoriously known for his drug addiction, her legs wrapped around him while astride a motorbike. It is consistencies like these that throw the reader off the loop.
But they are nothing compared to one of the biggest offenses a novelist can make: a hero/heroine who is hard to sympathize with. Sheldon once said, "I think people throughout the world identify with my characters." The same can't be said for Lexi. I'll let the promiscuity a pass, since the author justifies it as the character's way of dealing with her childhood rape. Her sexual affair with her cousin, however, is another thing. This is not some distant relative, but the son of her mother's twin sister! Bagshawe writes in Lexi's voice, "The thought crossed her mind that she might be in love with her cousin," and then follows the internal dialogue with, "I don't have time for love." Unbelievable. Is Lexi so screwed up she was not even repelled by the incestuous idea? Then she goes off in the end to marry another family member, albeit someone from a far-off branch of the geneological tree.
Other reviewers have commented on the senseless violence and depravity in the book, and how Sheldon would be turning in his grave. Unfortunately, I share the same sentiment. A lot of those elements appear to be forced into the story for the sake of jacking up the conflict. Yet, many of the cliffhangers at the end of the chapter failed to discourage me from taking a break, partly due to the many unlikeable characters (Gabe McGregor, who eventually married Lexi, was one of the few exceptions). You don't really care what happens to them. The tension was also diluted through the author's favored device--starting a chapter in the middle of a subplot, followed by a flashback that leads back to the opening scene which, in Bagshawe's best intention, is developed and built up to a climax. The pattern is the same in practically every chapter that it becomes to feel contrived. Knowing as well from previous chapters that so-and-so character lives and breathes in later times drives down the suspense a few knots. Flashbacks can be a powerful tool, but they have to be used wisely.
There are also unexplained issues: How could a surgeon who claimed to have frightfully botched up his wife's face during a cosmetic procedure still remain a "world-renowned" doctor? (The surgeon was obsessed with his wife Eve, the antagonist, that he carved up her face to the extent that she couldn't get out of the house without a thick veil.) How could a scheming first-rate b-- like Eve, in all her vanity, not have made attempts to have another surgeon fix her up? Rory, who played a small but significant role, was barely given a backstory that readers who've long forgotten him from the first book or have never even read of it are left at a loss.
I trudged through the rest of the novel with some effort, while tempted to abandon the book altogether at certain points but, frankly, I was still curious enough to find out how it would all unfold and end. Maybe it's because I still wanted to believe Sheldon's family did the right thing, or I still want to recapture that old magic of his through somebody else. Or maybe, Bagshawe was still able to redeem herself in latter chapters. I guess on some level, Bagshawe was successful. The ending, however, which throws the door wide open to another sequel, was unsatisfactory.
Picking up the threads left by another author is never easy. When that author is a master of his game, the task becomes almost impossible: You will always fall short in the eyes of hardcore fans. Tilly Bagshawe might have done her best to "follow in (Sheldon's) footsteps," but even if it were a standalone book to be judged not in light of Sidney's other works, Mistress of the Game simply doesn't measure up against other well-written mainstream fiction. At least in my opinion.
Today's Catnip:
To all those writers who've been rejected and discouraged far too often, this one's from Sheldon himself--
"Don't give up. There are too many nay-sayers out there who will try to discourage you. Don't listen to them. The only one who can make you give up is yourself."
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