The idea of a sequel to 'Rosemary's Baby' is rich with horrific, delicious possibility. How could Levin ever top that masterpiece which ended so cataclysmically and tantalising with the birth of the AntiChrist? Levin fans will be sure, as I was, that he can do it, because let's face it, he hasn't disappointed us yet. But somehow, sadly, this sequel is a spectacular misfire - a woefully unworthy partner to, and ultimately a shameful mockery of, the first instalment. Everything about it is quite quite awful. Apart from a cunning stunt in a department store, this lacks Levin's usual jet black wit and the plot drags inconsequentially towards possibly the most appalling climax ever committed to paper. In all his other novels, Levin has delivered us a devastating blow, but fans just simply won't believe the twist he's resorted to here...although it's not worth finding it out for yourself, it's just too painful to divulge. Stick with the original...although Levin has hitherto been a stunning thriller writer, leaving the future of the AntiChrist to OUR imagination at the end of 'Rosemary's Baby' is now, sadly, the best thing he never did.