A Review of: If the Bed Falls In, by Paul Casselle, author extraordinaire
As I sit here in my balcony stateroom on board the beautiful Carnival Liberty, am I enjoying the beauty of the Carribean Sea? No. I am stumbling around like a drunk on a two-day bender suffering from some kind of illness passed on to me by one of the various forms of little people, germ magnets really, that reach no higher than my hipbone, who somehow manage to propel themselves into me every time the ship lists. The waning and waxing motion leaves some ill in their beds with the dreaded sea sickness. Alas not me, I have been brought to my knees by a child who in their innocence left me with bronchitis and a 3-ton elephant sitting on my chest.
So here I am in my balcony stateroom, not enjoying the crisp sea air or the gentle rocking of the ship as we make our way to Grand Cayman, a lovely island I have had the pleasure of visiting many times. The water there is like glass. Absolutely beautiful. But I digress. Since I am effectively stuck in my balcony stateroom, I decided it was time to keep a promise.
First of all, let me give you a little background. I first “met” the subject of this missive when he sent me a message on Facebook. “I see you are a fellow author, my name is Paul Casselle and I would like to offer you the opportunity to read my novel, Conversations with Eric, for an honest review and in exchange, I will offer the same to you for one of your books.” I was slightly taken aback by the request because Paul writes thrillers and I write children’s books for ages 2-5. I promptly agreed but felt I had to inform him that it would be a very lopsided arrangement. He understood but still wanted my opinion.
I loved Conversations with Eric. For the same reasons that I have loved every one of Paul’s books. They are an honest look into the mind of a master storyteller. Something that no matter how long a time, I live, or what I endeavor to write, mine will never come close to being as stellar as the missives that Paul writes.
From that time forward a wonderful friendship blossomed. I use the word friendship in the same way that Amazon, my favorite place in the world for shopping, uses the word friendship. It seems that if we are “friends” on Facebook, then we must, therefore, be using our “friends” to write reviews for us. And as such our reviews are denied as we are "friends". So I am using this alternate method to introduce you to some outstanding authors that I have became "friends" with over the last few years. This is the first.
As “friends” on Facebook, we share in the grief of the loss of a beloved friend, Eric. (Paul, I was devastated to learn of his passing, my heart broke that day as I too lost a beloved friend), or the passing of my daughter, Bobbie Ann. We laugh at shared stories and encourage one another to be the very best we can be. We rejoice over a new release, If the Bed Falls In, by Paul or ABC’s Fun Fact About Animals, by yours truly. The highs of taking a relationship to the next level, or the lows of losing a parent to dementia. So here’s my answer to you dear Paul, to a question you recently asked me. “Deb’s I know you said you loved, If the Bed Falls In, but why did you love it? Here my friend is my response:
Dearest Paul, What a vexing question you had the audacity to ask me! You might as well have asked me, why do you love sunrises or sunsets? The way ice cream tastes as it melts upon your tongue. Or even the way the first taste of a summer peach or a winter orange make you dance with joy. Or even the most obscure one of all, why do you love all aspects of nature with pure abandon. Even scary spiders that if they make their presence known and stay out of my hair, it’s live and let live.
So here dear Paul is your answer, I loved it because. It was the first taste of a grape bursting on your palette, or the brush of an artist's hand to a blank canvas. It was well written. It made me laugh, it was intriguing and this grammar nazi couldn’t find one thing to complain about other than the fact that some British spellings are different than the Americanized versions. Defence is transformed to defense and if not for that I would have nothing to write about. It was quite simply, stunning. The characters were so real that they jumped off the pages of my kindle to act out the scenes in front of me while I applauded the performance. You, dear Paul, are an artist and I am so flattered that you chose me to be one of your readers. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to allow me to share in Tom/Joseph and the adorable Cyril, whom I am tickled to say, is a reflection of myself if I were in the same situation. Bravo for making me laugh and for allowing me to be your friend.
til next time,