Enter your mobile number or email address below and we'll send you a link to download the free Kindle App. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required.
To get the free app, enter mobile phone number.
The Green-Eyed Monster: A Chilling Tale of Terror (Enigma of Twilight Falls Book 1) Kindle Edition
- File size : 4423 KB
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Print length : 251 pages
- Publisher : Evolved Publishing LLC; 3rd edition (8 September 2020)
- Language: : English
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- Simultaneous device usage : Unlimited
- ASIN : B08HQV9YZM
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Customer Reviews:
Review this product
Top reviews from other countries
A seemingly odd question, perhaps, but not if you consider the focus of Mike Robinson's second book, to wit, "chaos theory" and the mysterious/sinister nature of cause and effect.
"Color heavily diluted. Non-existent. Sound, like snow, a physical unheard thing. Connecting everyone, entwining every skull, were channels of butterflies, flying in slow obedience back and forth, from one mind to another. Rivers of wings rippled through the human geography, nourishing life and sentience."
The Green-Eyed Monster, ostensibly horror, explores the complicated idea of the "butterfly effect", albeit in a very interesting and highly original way. The story centres on the sinister relationship between two best-selling writers, Martin Smith and John Becker (perhaps imagine Stephen King and Dean Koontz living side by side in an eerie condo?). Anyway, the narrative structure is somewhat complicated to describe, but thankfully not to read. To begin with, Becker is dead on page/screen one, the police arrive to find Smith with smoking gun in hand, and so the mystery is set to unfold. We quickly discover how Smith and Becker have become connected from birth, growing up together in the small town of Twilight Falls. The two are inexplicably inseparable and yet fierce and bitter rivals . The story then further unfolds from the varying perspectives of those whose lives interconnect with the two writers, first from the viewpoint of their school teacher and then a fellow high school pupil.
It's here, in first adopting the voice of the school teacher, Robinson not only seamlessly changes from third to first person, but rather deftly, and after only one or two paragraphs, has you right there, that is to say, picturing yourself alongside the teacher in her classroom from hell. Also worth noting is young Marty Smith's childhood story: The Big Brain. This is incredible writing. Robinson again changes gears effortlessly and offers something new, both simplified but deeply profound all at once, and, in a peculiar way, reminding me of the character Bruno in the The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas, or, perhaps faint echoes of The Book Thief.
Of course, the horror of Stephen King is what's at the forefront of this work, that way of placing horror in the everyday and especially in the arena of childhood. And, sticking with my somewhat obvious comparison to King, in places The Green-Eyed Monster really reminded me of The Shining too. For certain, you'll be taken to some very weird, dark and chilling places as the two writers create words which float out into the world like causal but sinister butterflies, that is each word/butterfly having a knock on effect.
Come 9:56, the writings of John Becker and Martin Smith had grown into firestorms of language. Their wrists yelled pain. Their foreheads glistened with perspiration. They could not stop. They wrote and wrote and the library, the town, became a dapple of eternity. At 10:25, Harry placed his first knock on Max's door.
Anyway, you've perhaps already noticed, from the two extracts above, that Mike Robinson not only is a writer daring to tackle rather complicated ideas, but is also a rather fine writer at that. His prose both has a poetic sensibility that fittingly floats about your mind like a rich yet foreboding butterfly, but is also somewhat expedient with its grand approach, perhaps always underlined with an exacting and taut precision:
"Harris orbited the table, snapping pictures. The coroner, a soft-eyed young doctor named Greene with a manner as cold and metallic as the table propping her subject, surveyed the body curiously, scalpel in hand."
"Physical life is nothing but diseased membrane grown around divine tissue, tissue heavily impaired and diluted by anatomical limitations."
"Looming over the body, Smith laughed. The bullet had dug a maroon tunnel through Becker's skull. Smith had an absurd urge to peer inside as if it were some kind of organic peep-hole."
In addition there's a real depth of philosophical exploration too, an ace card that gives Robinson's work a literary prowess, not always present in a lot of out and out horror. Literary Horror would assuredly be a more exacting way to describe this tome because every page is full of insight matched only by the high standard of his writing, and with all sincerity I can't help but think that in the fullness of time Mike Robinson's work will/should sit alongside the major authors of the genre: King, Koontz, Becker, Smith... and Robinson.
Question: If a writer continually taps his keyboard in California, could it really cause an avalanche in the sitting-room of a London reader?
Answer: Yes, an avalanche of the senses, because The Green-Eyed Monster is a triumph of a story, burying said reader in the macabre and chilling recesses of an already accomplished writer's dark imagination.
NB: This review also appears on The Indie Pedant website, a home for indie writers.
“Green Eyed Monster” in its basic, one-sided roots, indirectly follows the lives of two boys turned bestselling authors, John Becker and Martin Smith, and their dark, mysterious influence on the lives of the people around them, beginning and ending with the death of one of the writers. Really, the entire book is a foreshadowing of last few pages of the cerebral rollercoaster that is this novel – as most novels are – this was just a little more obvious.
In my mind there are two basic elements of this work: the murder mystery – I can almost say ‘surface’ – aspect and the psychological paranormal aspect. In all honesty, the latter didn’t really appeal to me at all. It was well written; the psychological element had me sitting up in my seat, whispering incredulously to the pages, asking it to tell me its secrets – it was more the philosophical psychobabble of pages upon pages of explaining in no certain terms exactly what is going on that plucked me from the pages and settled me back into reality. For all I know, it was my own blindness that pulled me out but what I do know is that I hate being thrust out of a good book prematurely.
And it was a good book. I devoured every word on the page even if I had no idea what they meant because they created this lyrically beautiful piece of artwork that, if anything, I could appreciate. But more than that, the other element (murder mystery, surface tension) was completely and utterly captivating. Mike Robinson has created an incredible cast of insanely mad characters that just fascinated me from start to finish.
From the teacher who yearned so badly for her fictional son that she allowed the universe to guide the lives of her first grade class and repaid her debt by destroying her sanity in a pool of blood and a box of crayons.
To the high school kid who climbed and fell so many times from the social ladder that he simply knocked the ladder off its hinges with nothing but a fedora and the smothering scent of cigars and gun powder (though in my opinion, the entire being of Henry Zwieg was clichéd).
I guess I found the psychological aspect to be rather like lettuce in a salad: essential but rather bland without the extra ingredients.
I realize that it’s starting to sound like I wasn’t that fond of the book but I was. I was…trilled. That’s really the only word I can find to describe it. It was thrilling. I hung on the author’s every word; I just had trouble letting the two elements meld together into the complete story that it was.
The butterfly motif that runs through the entire story was mysterious and insane even with the explanation of why and the style of writing was just fantastic. As I said before it was very lyrically written, nothing had just its singular meaning and every word flowed and ebbed with each scene that was written on to the page. It also happened that as I amerced myself in this tale, I found myself caught with a case of foreign exchange syndrome in which you spend so much time with someone who has a rather thick accent that you start to mimic their accent in order to create a bond or simply to fit in with the person you’re speaking with.
As I was writing this review I caught myself giving in a little to the urge to add flowing prose and quickly set myself in a different direction to keep from overflowing this post with useless prose. I apologize if it still turned out that way.
Of all the things I’ve said so far this may be the strangest yet: I would love to see this as made into a movie. I’m serious. I know it’s become a sort of running joke about writers writing for the sake of the visual arts rather than the written word but I’m serious. Have you ever wanted to see something happen in real life just to confirm that your imagination isn’t completely wrong – or twisted, or whatever – that’s how I feel about this book. There are so many moments that are just so engrained in my mind’s eye that I need to see them played out before my real eyes so I can get them out – like a song that’s stuck in your head. And although there are some great, quotable lines in this book, it’s the images that are keeping me up at night, haunting me. And I can see it so clearly sometimes; like the image a girl and her eyes filled with this fear and resignation and confusion and desperation. And then the whole world takes a breath with her and everything is silent, so still – before she’s blown away in a horrifyingly bloody mess against the bedroom wall. Its images like that which leaves me desperate to get them out of my mind and place them firmly on the screen so I can dispel them from my imagination.
Until that day happens I shall simply have to leave you with the words written on this page and the encouragement to find a copy of this novel yourself. Mike Robinson has written a beautiful piece of work and I recommend it to thrill seekers with a strong stomach and an open mind (I love my gore but I know that’s not for everyone). Really this is a book that you just have to dive into. It’s not something you casually read.