Press Release Summary = This is the story of where people go in times of extreme stress, danger, guilt and shame to deal with the magnitude of the distasteful situations they experience.
Press Release Body = The story strives to understand human nature, the things we do, often inexplicably foolish and the all-encompassing question of why are we here? and what is it all about? It is about the triumph of the human soul against great adversity and forces beyond our control and suggests why God so readily forgives us all our sins, both great and small. The story shows how destiny repeatedly throws a spanner in the works of our lives and constantly tests us.
About the Author: A. Tripolino lives in Milton Keynes in the UK. His interest in writing started with essays at his private schools, progressing to short stories and then his first two novels.
Excerpt from the Book: The Void was nothingness itself: the straight line across the circle and out through each side. The dead negative. It was still, so silent it hummed, and was invisible. Lost in the space of time and in the time of space. It was not occupied by matter, was a vacuum, a breach of surface and a disconnecting expanse. Yet you sensed it was something; the presence of an incredibly overwhelming and dead weight. You felt there was something there; not with your fingers, through convention, but with your soul and your spirit and your primal self. It was a place that would and could never manifest itself, yet you felt there were boundaries. A black ball in a vast black space, such as with the mysteries of the darkened womb; yet a caring and friendly darkness; comforting. A place strange to you now, but were you to return, you would know it instantly. It would be so much a part of you. Its dome sheltered you with the comfort of a hood on a rainy day. It was your friend and your protector, your confidant and your mentor; and you would feel safe and totally at home there. Unlike space, it was finite and a living entity; breathing, sensing and aware of your presence. It crackled silently with Life. Knowledge mirrored. Like walking into a darkened room; you could not see the furniture and other obstacles, still you felt their presence, you felt the energy bouncing off them on your moral radar and you knew that if you moved too quickly, you could bang into something and hurt yourself or others; just as the Void's vibrations bounced back onto you like an echo sounder on a boat. You respected its restraining properties. And you didn't have to like something to respect it. Yet there was nothing about the Void to dislike, unless you disliked yourself or were a darker entity than itself. It seemed to bulge and grow, with threads of living consciousness entwining within it, like silver and gold glitter in a woman's evening dress, threading in and out everywhere ad infinitum. It was the hibernating bear: living yet still. It was as blank and as stark as virgin landscape or freshly produced paper: portrayed yet unmarked and unanimated. It was as alive as any victim in a coma: living and breathing, yet just lying there as inert and dead as a rock; like an old rusting car in a scrap-yard, worn out, spent and useless; like Nothing. Which is what it was. Yet, even nothing is something, by its very nature. As with a camera lens, it just pointed itself at you and 'existed,' showing no prejudice, judgement, shock or surprise. Just staring back as blankly as a wall. Whatever was put in front of it was accepted without question. Like committing a gruesome murder in front of a manikin, with all its accompanying violence, unpleasant gurgling noises and flurry of swift action; while getting no reaction out of the dummy or the lens. To the Void, it was just as things were; as natural as a tree in a field and all the sand in the desert. It was just there. Statement. Platitude. All is an entity in its own right. Life in its myriad forms; even the most scorned, belittled and ignored; the limpet and the weed; the bacteria, micro-organisms and germs. The repulsive: Cockroaches, bed-bugs, maggots, worms, anything slimy, bats and rats.
FOR MORE INFO ABOUT THE BOOK, CONTACT:
D. Jewell (literary agent) E-mail: darin@darinjewell.co.uk
A copy of THE BREAKS ALONG THE HARBOUR WALL can be ordered from Authorhouse at:
2022
