Refined In The Furnace Of Affliction: John McCulloch

UNFORESEEN TRAGEDIES LEADS TO A MORE MEANINGFUL LIFE

John McCulloch's oldest son received a head injury at birth, re-sulting in blindness. A second injury at age 28, resulted in his being confined to a nursing home for life. This book is about how these afflictions and others led one family to a positive result.


Refined in the Furnace of Affliction is John McCulloch's account of both his own life and the life of his son John, who received a head injury at birth and was subsequently disabled. There's an insistent strand of Christianity and prayer in this book, and a strong focus on the need for family life, and it's obvious that McCulloch is passionate and devoted to all of these things. Sadly, he isn't a good writer and that lack of expertise means that this book is a flat, dull read.

Most of the pages reminded me of the journals I used to keep as a child: "I got up and then I had my breakfast and then I brushed my teeth and went to school". It's all tell and no show and it's very disorganised, too: in the middle of what should be a heartbreaking tale of the birth of his disabled son, McCulloch abruptly breaks into an account of how his wife got a good deal on a car.

This is a very badly-written book which I wish I could have reviewed more favourably. I read only eleven of its one hundred and fourteen pages.

Carbon Copy Alpha Man: Gary Turcotte

The conspiracy of the decade takes a backseat to the mysteries of the Millennium.

A top secret agent comes off the assignment of his lifetime. He is having his face reconstructed for his next mission. Without his consent, he is forced to extract all high tech secrets hidden in the mind of a captured prisoner. Through technology the prisoner's mind is directly wired into Derek's mind. The prisoner is from the Roswell crash. Derek's mind is instantly filled with everything the alien knows. Derek decides to run, and publish his secrets. I wrote this for Derek, wherever he is.


Poor old Gary Turcotte: he's the only writer so far to send me two of his books to review, and I think they're both just awful.

Carbon Copy: Alpha Man fails for the same reasons that his other book did: poor writing. The text is dull. Turcotte uses lots of short sentences, which leads to a choppy, disjointed style. He tells everything, shows little, but still manages to confuse which isn't surprising considering how little he seems to know about the subjects he discusses: the surgeries he describes (both medical and cosmetic) are not believable; he seems to consider hypnosis sinister and irresistible, while little more than a stage act; he frequently contradicts himself; he misuses words; and his cover-art is adolescent at best.

I read just six of this book's 160 printed pages, and that was at least five too many.

The Bomb That Followed Me Home (Rumpleville Chronicles): Cevin Soling and Steve Kille

We've all heard of stray cats following kids home or a lost puppy yelping by a kitchen door for food, but did you know that even a wayward little bomb needs love and attention to?

When a bomb, looking for a friend, follows a young boy home, trouble breaks out in a suburban household that is just trying to keep peace with the angry neighbors next door.


I make it quite clear that I don't review picture books so by sending me a picture book to review, the authors of The Bomb That Followed Me Home: A Fairly Twisted Fairy Tale already have a strike against them.

Because this is a picture book it has relatively little text and I'll admit, I consequently reached the end before I'd found my fifteen errors: so as I do follow the rules here, I shall now review the book even though it shouldn't have been submitted to me in the first place.

According to the the press release which was included with this book, the author and illustrator responsible for this book are being deliberately provocative in an attempt to make their readers think about social issues: I wish they'd spent a little more time working on their story, and a little less time thinking about how clever they could be, because it just doesn't work.

In the book, a bomb follows a little boy home; the next-door neighbour shouts at the boy when he takes a short cut through her garden; and as his parents don't like the neighbour either, they end up giving the bomb to her. You can guess the ending. And if you want to be helpful you could also try to guess the social commentary contained within the story because all I can see here is a book with an ugly cover and a retro-in-all-the-wrong-ways design; an unengaging text with a few clumsy attempts at humour and characterisation, and a glib, self-congratulatory tone which alienated me right from the start.

Secrets Unveiled: Shesena Pledger

The Harris Family, America's most notorious fiction crime family of her time, is thirsting for one thing: blood. Faced with their most fierce rival to date, the Harris' will stop at nothing to rest assured that their nemesis is at least six feet below anyone else's reach. And with their biggest opponent finally out of the way, the Harris' can taste the sweet flavour of pure vengeance on the tip of their tongues...and they’re salivating for their full meal.

Nick Miller can't wait to get off of work so he can escape the madness surrounding him. From constant memories of his suppressed past to continuous news coverage of ‘Cleopatra's’ death, Nick is aching for relief of such a mentally draining day. So much so, that he finds this comfort in the wrong hands. Will this chance encounter open a door that leads to the secrets behind Nick's past? Or will his lapse of judgement cost him his last breath?

As Nick's world collides with that of the blood thirsty Harris Family, he comes face to face with the one thing that terrifies him more than the thought of dying: the truth about his life.


Secrets Unveiled is written in a very melodramatic style. The author's reliance on single-line paragraphs and broad hints of bad things to come results in a choppy read and a confusing, overwritten text which is adolescent and angsty rather than intellectual or analytical. I read just three pages out of what looks like a very dreary 319 in order to find my quota of fifteen errors.