Where Is She Now? Frances Gilbert

Rosemary wants only to feel the calm promised in the hymns of her childhood, she wants to ‘lay down her burden and enter in.’

Cradling her green pocket book wrapped in an old green shawl, she wanders through her daily life with her husband Brian, her traumatized self, and her alter ego, the bossy and competent Anna. Something has happened in the past, centering on her baby, but Rosemary can’t quite remember what it was. And where is the baby now? As she oscillates between rational and delusional spells she seeks validation and support from the inanimate object around her, the cups on the shelf, the knobs on the bedposts, the books in the bookcase, and the houses lining the streets. In her conversations with them we see a Rosemary who is not quite as deranged as she seems, and Brian, not quite as supportive as he would like to have you believe.

The book is set in a fictional amalgam of two small English towns.

When I first received Frances Gilbert’s Where Is She Now? I had very high hopes for it: it seemed much more accomplished than many of the other submissions that I’ve looked at. But in the end, a slew of punctuation problems and confusing constructions did for this book: I had found my fifteen errors before I reached the end of its second page.

Despite that, I continued reading to the end of page seven. I found plenty more problems and mistakes as I read on, but there was something rather lovely about the writing here which pulled me along with it. Gilbert’s writing has a light and lyrical quality: there’s a rhythm and poetry to her words which I found quite bewitching and (assuming, of course, that the plot is strong enough and well-constructed) if she had spent more time working on her grammar and punctuation I would have been able to give this book a very positive review indeed.

A Different Kind Of Sentinel: Sir E J Drury II

Personal Memoir

Having grown up in eastern Missouri, Sir E. J. entered the Navy after a brief stint at the US Naval Academy. For two long years did he struggle, in and out of sleep, with the true enemy of mankind — the Beast. And for the past twenty has he struggled to give form to this book, that you, the reader, might decide to join the fray and save humanity from its self and the destructive side of its animal nature.

A TREK THROUGH THE DARK SIDE IN SEARCH OF SOUL AND THE MEANING OF LIFE

“…a truly remarkable memoir that is as much about the author as it is about the soul and their eventual reunion…”

“Haven’t you heard? The Beast has been unleashed.”
“What beast?” you ask.
“Why that part of Nature which still defies Consciousness.”
“I don’t understand,” you exclaim.
“You will by the time you finish reading this story. Trust me.”
“Why should I?” You inquire.
“You have your soul to free and heaven to gain, and little time for either.”

“Once I started reading the book, I couldn’t put it down until I’d finished it. You go where no one has ever dared. And for that you are to be commended.” David Stewart, Stewart Publishing

“It may very well go on to become the book of the century, or for that matter, the book of the millennium.” Harold Terbrock, Retired Carpenter

Sir E. J. Drury II (who is credited as the author of A Different Kind of Sentinel) has a pretty good grasp of punctuation overall, although he uses far too many commas which has the effect of stopping the flow of his words and giving his whole text a choppy, staccato beat. And this over-use of commas is part of a much larger problem: the style that this writer favours.

He habitually inverts his sentences and uses a dated and particular vocabulary. These two stylistic quirks combine to give his writing a dialect-like air, and the closest I can get to describing the origins of that dialect is to suggest that it’s a sort of pidgin-Biblical. It’s nowhere near as rich, textural or magnificent as the text of the King James version, though, and rather than accentuating and emphasising Drury’s text, these linguistic quirks of his only serve to knock his many writerly failures into sharper focus.

Drury’s uncomfortable style, his frequent and perplexing changes of tense, the many nonsensical sentences that I found, and his insistence on recounting great swathes of his own dreams within the text, meant that I read just five of this book’s two hundred and eighty six pages. Sadly, this is another self-published book which fails to please.