To be honest, I can live with the minor factual errors in Frank Schätzing's book as well as with the grammatical ones that emerged in the translation. I'm even fine with his one-dimensional portrayal of Americans as a bunch of God-fearing, trigger-happy yahoos who think that the only solution to any problem is to kill it, because it's not as though there aren't any examples in recent memory to support such a depiction.
But I just can't accept writing that is as poorly done as it is in this book. It reads too much like a novelization of a TV miniseries rather than a true novel, as instead of developing a plot or nuanced characters Schätzing prefers to take his readers from set action sequence to set action sequence. Too many of them read like scenes from the sort of CGI-driven disaster movies that Hollywood has churned out over the past quarter-century, something that the author underscores by his characters' frequent references to them. The silver lining is that it's all blessedly skimable, as the lack of depth allows the reader to skip through the pages like a rock bouncing off of a lake — or perhaps the best advice is to just skip reading it altogether.