The books takes us to a very special character in a coma. What people don't realize is that she can hear everything. The story takes us to very bad and sometimes good places of the main character life.
It's a very unique and unusual story.
I loved the way it was written, the narrator was very good and I loved the book.
I don't know if i will listen to the book again and not because the book was bad. It was very good. I just feel it will not be the same after I know what happened. But maybe I'm wrong and maybe some day I will re listen to the story and enjoy the little nuances that I'm sure I probably missed.
Round and round, all over town So it goes, up and down... You are my ambassador! Wherever you are Spread my message, near and far Let it be heard north and south All I can hope for is your word-of-mouth!
I saw this book advertised as a free read and decided to give it a try. I was never t disappointed! I like the writing style of this author and the dry humor she infused the protagonist, Ash with. Even in her almost vegetative state, Ash found time for humor and reflection and I think this heroine is gonna be great in the next installment. I recommend this book.
Susan Mills Wilson is writes suspense novels and short stories. She is an avid blogger on a wide range of topics, the leader of the Charlotte Writers Club Mystery Critique Group and a board member of Charlotte Writers Club. I am thrilled that she read and reviewed my book, My Own Voice:
I felt compassion for the vulnerable young woman in this story. The first- person narrative shows her need for belonging, for love, and for acceptance. Written in a clever and unique style which drew me in from the start. I recommend this book for those who like compelling characters you want to cheer on.
He strapped on the headset that Ash had designed for him. In the virtual reality industry, headsets were as bulky as a helmet. By contrast, this one was made of some thin film, which made it feel like it wasn’t there, even though it included all the necessary equipment: built-in motion sensors and an external camera tracker, which drastically improved image fidelity, as well as head tracking. Before you knew it, soft lenses would swing around your left and right temples and with a digital click, come directly into contact with the eyes.
At this point, Michael had dual vision. In one layer, he saw the constructed scene; in another—his office, lit by a fluorescent lamp that was strobing overhead. He switched it off and in a heartbeat, the room drowned in darkness.
Now he could focus much better. Something about the scene made it look wrong. By default, an imaginary light source was established at the center of it, shedding light vectors at an arbitrary angle of eighty degrees overhead, to simulate daylight. It intensified the horizontal surfaces by making them bright. At the same time, it washed the vertical ones with stark shadows. When compared with his memory, the result appeared remarkably contrived.
Despite wanting to forget everything about last night, the lamppost at that street corner became clear in his mind. Slowly, stealthily, its shadow had started prowling to the other side...
This simulated view had to be corrected. The fastest way to do it was for him to access the code via its voice recognition and comprehension interface.
“Generate time grid,” he said, “starting at 8:03pm. April 30th. For that date, find the course of the sun. Set the angle of rays.”
The shadows changed direction. Darkness engulfed more surfaces. Shady secrets seemed to start whispering all over the landscape.
“Simulate a breeze coming from the ocean. Accelerate rate ten times original pace. Play!”
Around him, shadows started swinging as the sun angled its way to the west. When finally it sank, the horizon glowed in red.
What was that noise?
In a layer behind the sunset, his office door was open just a crack—exactly as he had left it. The walls were as shady as ever. Nothing stirred. Standing there perfectly still, only he could hear the wind. Only he could spot the trail, twisting and turning at the top of the rugged cliffs across his office floor, between one stack of software specifications and another. Why, then, should he find himself feeling awkward, as if he were an intruder in his own office?
There was no way to control the mad throb of his blood, to force it back into a regulated pace. Michael took off the headset. With the sound of a puff, Laguna Beach vanished from view—only to reveal a reflection, someone’s reflection flashing across his computer screen.
By the subtle hint of perfume, he knew who she was even before turning around to look at her. Every muscle in him ached for her touch. He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around her waist and gather her, at long last, to his breast. But his heart told him she would resist.
Haunted by discovering the body of a beautiful dancer, Michael sets out to create a virtual reality simulation of her murder. Can he bring the mystery to life? Can he solve its clues in time, before the killer turns on the woman he loves, Ash?
Betty goes into the bedroom to fetch some dry ice from the insulated container, so as to chill the beer she is about to serve. Through the bedroom door, I spot my Pa lying in a different position than before. How has he managed to move away from the foot of the bed? Has he crawled there on his own? Or else, has the thug kicked him off to the side?
There is no time to find out. “Here we go,” Betty whispers, on her way out. “Now, play dead.”
She plops a small bucket with two beer bottles in my lap and wheels me out towards the couch, till the thug comes into vision. I let my eyes fall shut in his presence—but not before catching sight of a steely shine sliding across his weapon. I know what this is: a Makarov pistol.
My boyfriend, Michael, told me not so long ago that this Russian semi-automatic piece became the Soviet Union's standard military and police side arm back in the fifties, and that it is still in use to this day.
I don’t want the thug to notice the glint in my eyes, nor do I want him to read my fear. So I keep my eyes closed, even though I’m dying to see his face. From this moment on, I must rely on my hearing alone, the way I did back in the hospital.
Betty must have handed him the bottle before retreating to stand behind the wheelchair. The way she uses me as a human shield is quite alarming.
The thug must be pointing at me. “The girl,” he says, “she gives me the creeps.”
“Yep, I know.” By the sound of it, her lips are trembling. “Wish I didn’t have to keep an eye on her all the time. Such a bummer.”
“I vill take care of it.”
The wheels rattle and sway under me, as he swings the wheelchair around, turning me to the wall.
She says, “Don’t do that.”
Which angers him. “Vlad bosses me around all day long, but I do not have to take it from you.”
Betty tries to placate him. “Sorry.”
“I vill do vat I vant.” He stamps his foot on the floor. “Got it?”
She says nothing.
To bring the point home, the thug picks me up from my seat, which knocks the air out of my lungs. Feeling like a fledgling I flail about, unable to find my feet, until he throws me into the corner of the room, where I collapse in a heap.
“Now you, honey, come sit next to me,” he tells her, while guzzling down his beer. “Vant some?”
“Sure,” she says, in a terrified voice. “But first, put your pistol aside. I don’t feel safe next to it.”
He slams the thing on the coffee table. “How’s that?”
“Not good enough,” she says. “Put it over there.”
“Away from us.”
He chuckles, as if delighted by hatching up some new idea. “I know! I vill put it on the girl. On her hand, see? Looks just like a hook!”
The thug props my back up against the wall and arranges my limbs, as if I were a clunky doll. Then he lets his piece dangle from my index finger.
Betty says nothing. Her jaw must be gaping open. Mine sure does. This is so unexpected. With his weapon weighing me down, I have suddenly acquired power.
Ash finds herself in the ER diagnosed with coma. She has no memory of what has happened to her, but what she can do--despite what everyone around her might think--is listen to the conversations of her visitors. Will she survive the power outage in the hospital and then, being kidnapped out of it?
What a mesmerizing story. From the first lines, the narrator’s haunting voice draws you in: “Growing up, I didn’t care for fairytale characters. The one I disliked the most was Sleeping Beauty. Unfortunately, now I’ve turned into one. It’s the Sleeping part that frightens me…”
You enter the mind of a young woman named Ash, who finds herself beaten and raped, lying in the hospital in a coma. She can’t remember what happened to her but – what an original idea! – she can listen to every conversation around her. She can also think, and here the narrator’s voice gathers the force of someone trapped and speechless, yet still capable of intense observation, even irony.
Heather Hogan’s great narration conveys Ash’s frustration listening to the nurse – “she must think I look like a mummy in my bandages” – and to the monotonous beeping monitor, and to her mother being hostile to her boyfriend Michael. You’ll get shivers hearing Ms. Hogan do the Russian-accented brute who did this atrocity to Ash...in fact the narration swoops through the whole range of human emotion. Bravo to Heather Hogan, and to this thrilling story’s author, Uvi Poznansky, who has delivered a flawless audiobook production. I enjoyed it immensely – five stars!