A disappointing read
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I was hoping that I'd find some proof of life after death in this book, but instead it was a meandering, introspective journey which I had to skim through in many places. Much tedious writing.
the main point of the book is that we witness Justine's yearning to contact her sister and trying to find ways to do so and for that she has my empathy. The only really meaty bit was Rita Rodger's reading. I also suspect that she might well have had Ruth in her head, though Justine did not really seem to believe that.
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An emotional Journey
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Picardie's sister, Ruth, died of breast cancer. Her plight was documented in a series of articles she wrote about her illness which were published in a major newspaper up to the time of her death. This book charts Justine's very personal journey to try to come to terms with and understand what it means to lose her sister, and her efforts to grieve and to try and make contact with her beyond death. This might seem macabre or pointless, and maybe it is to some people, but the heart of this book is the message that there isn't one right way to bear the loss of someone who means everything to you, and that you have to do what you can to get through each day and bear the sadness. It's a rich and poignant book, which doesn't give any answers or suggest any theories or solutions. It is all the better for it in my opinion.
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Heartfelt
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Although i can understand some of the negative points of view about this book I think people have to understand where she is coming from. This book is basically about somebody trying to cope with the loss of an extremely close family member (something most of us can identify with). In it Picardie tries to find answers to the infernal question why? To do this she looks at some issues surrounding life after death, spirituality, and what its all about. After reading books by Picardie and her sister Ruth their relationship was an extremely close one and this book just highlights her way of coming to terms with her death. Everybody deals with things in different ways and we should never be critical of anyones actions, instead we should support them for their heartfelt honesty
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Pointless Nonsense
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I'm three quarters of the way through this book and the only reason I haven't torn it in half along the spine & thrown it in the bin is because I have great self-control and because I am interested - in a perverse sort of way - in seeing just how bad it can get. Thank heavens the book I've got was one was one of those remaindered copies at a discount book sale.....paying anything other than a dollar for this nonsense would be a complete rip-off.
I think this book is a prime example of what some publishing houses have been doing for some time now, giving the go ahead for books on subjects which could - at the very best - suffice as a magazine article.
This ridiculous book is written in the tired old "entries in a diary" format - a sure sign if ever there was one that the writer is struggling for any narrative and hasn't got enough material for a book. Each entry is usually preceded by a excerpt or quotation from another writers work & in some instances entries are ended with another quotation.......if all the quotations were taken out of the book that would probably be 50 pages gone right there...the fact that one of the works quoted is by that complete charlatan Sylvia Browne ( an moronic American "psychic") is perhaps a reasonable indication of the depths to which this lightweight book sinks.
Of the rest I have read so far the vast majority is taken up by an endless stream of entries where Picardie describes a dream she had about either her deceased sister or someone else who has passed on. It's bad enough having to listen to a tale about ONE dream....in this drivel we are regaled with transcriptions of dream after dream after dream......writing about your dreams is fine if it's just in some journal you keep in a bedside table, but actually thinking that these will interest anyone other than yourself is a indication of either complete and utter self-importance or someone struggling to churn out enough pages to add up to a book.
The incessantly inane "conversations" that Picardie includes in the book between herself and dead people are beyond the pale.
These "conversations" - I suppose the reader is required to presume - are taking place in Picardie's mind and are between herself and her dead sister & yet they appear on the page and are presented to the reader as a perfectly normal dialogue between two people over the telephone, or perhaps a coffee.
Picardie: "You there?"
Ruth (her dead sister) "Yes."
Picardie: "What are you doing?"
Ruth (her dead sister) "I'm looking at you"
Shall I write you - at this very moment - a conversation between myself and my dead father?
Me: "You there dad?"
Me: "You there dad?"
Me: "You there dad?"
Me: "You there dad?"
Notice how he didn't SAY ANYTHING? People DO NOT HAVE conversations with their dead relatives.
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A sensitive account of a search for life after death
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I am not a believer in spiritualism but this book had been serialised in The Times and I found myself drawn into its story. Justine Picardie's sister Ruth died of breast cancer, causing Justine to be overwhelmed with grief. Her sister Ruth remained real to her, and Justine eventually began a journey into spiritualism to try to contact Ruth once more. The book provides a fascinating account of her journey, and one which does not require the reader to believe, mainly because Justine is far from convinced herself. Perhaps the strangest parts of the book are where she encounters people who believe that by leaving a tape recorder running in a silent room, the voices of dead people can be heard when the tape is replayed repetively and at various speeds and volumes, or even in reverse. The adherents of this technique are convinced that they hear messages from the departed in these recordings but Ruth fails to hear the long sought-for messages. Although the book is ostensibly about Ruth's search, a very powerful sub-text describes the impact of the immense grief she feels. Personally I find this more interesting than the more exotic accounts of the outer fringes of the occult. It is greatly moving to read how love between family members can be so intense that the whole life of the surviving relative can be dominated by a sense of loss. I think this is a very valuable book and one I will be pleased to keep on my shelf and lend to others rather than passing straight to the Oxfam shop like so many recent purchases.
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