To understand the paranormal and the effects and affectations is like ESP unleashed. We don’t, and wont. This read takes one into the depths of belief, I had my doubts. What could two doubters ever come to realize?
I too had my dissonance throughout the journey. Then I did, and immediately didn’t again. As I enter and exited a distinct Fete Noire, my Spidey senses hackled my neck hairs. While no tome on the subject, but a quizzical romp through possibilities, the read is fluid and fortuitous.
The two brothers play to and against their contractor. Many times, I thought there would be a much more instant comeuppance for that puppet of the night. The endearing entrances and exits of possibilities ran my brain amok and crook. There were passages I reread to ensure my gist was just. Jokingly I continued to justify my judgment.
To Wit: I have never believed. To add: I have my doubts. To you, parry my argument. Put forth that which you pleasure your own gray matter with. Mine is in situ and quite solidly constrained. Can I wrap my head around the reality of the unreal? I have been challenged this time. That which is impugned, is that which could be possible. Hence the disjunction between though and reality which this book exposes.
The drama ensues through ups and declinations in action, from question to fact via flirtatious encounters. From one possibility to another, quickly pouncing on your thoughts of possibility. The enjoyable slide from one side to the other making the read digestible at its core.
My only caveat would be that you do not dismiss early, neither the protagonists nor the obvious. There is very little obviosity to observe. I truly did not know. Now that I do, you could pay me for the end, 50/50 I would decline.
The author did his job in defining the test, I parried my best. In the end, the smile on my face was enough. And like any good yarn, the clarity to understand was utmost. I know and I cannot tell. I could tell but would not know how you digest that information. My cards are held close. And you know my chest never wavers.
Pour it straight Steph, I need a hard shot of the Java today.
Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.
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