BOOK REVIEW⎜Love On The Edge Of Time by Julie A. Richman

MY RATING

Pains me to say but, as interesting the author’s approach of a fateful love may be, the amount of errors and bad French in the book pulled me out of the story.
If used to give the characters authenticity and anchor furthermore the story in France during tragic events like it’s the case here, it’s regrettable but it defeats the purpose entirely to have your characters speak like toddlers.

Book Infos

He likes whiskey and wild women
She likes Ben & Jerry’s
He’s about to get kicked out of his own band
She ate her way off the Miss America pageant circuit

What could these two possibly have in common?

A psychiatrist
A lot of unresolved issues
A whole bunch of shared lifetimes
And a love that is never-ending

As bad boy rocker, Jesse Winslow, and former pageant queen, Kylie Martin, each fight the demons screwing up their lives, the one person who holds the key to healing their ills and reuniting two souls that have searched for one another, lifetime after lifetime, is the only one who knows the whole truth.

And keeping that truth from them may just be in preeminent psychiatrist Dr. Claire Stoddard’s best interests.
Claire has committed the ultimate sin in the medical world. She’s fallen for the one man she’s forbidden to love.

Her patient, Jesse Winslow.

And she’s not about to lose him to Kylie Martin… Again.

Author : Julie A Richman
Title : Love On The Edge Of Time
Series :

Number of pages : 372
Publisher : 
Release Date :  November 11th, 2017
Genre : Contemporary

My Review

“How old are you?” “Je suis douze ans.”

I don’t think I have it in me to pick this one again.

Mon moitié! Mon moitié

It has been over a week and I’m still chuckling whenever I think about Diot, Lenoir and Geneviève desperatly crying out her love for her brother in this approximate French Google translation the author deemed “okay” to illustrate the historic part of her romance, turning their tragic and horrific story into something RIDICULE.

“Arretez-vous.” Stop!” he commands.
“Sortez-vous.” Leave! “Maintenant.” Now!
“Pourquoi?” Why? I ask, tears beginning to stream down my face. What has happened? Where is mon moitié?

Pains me to say but, as interesting the author’s approach of a fateful love may be, the amount of errors and bad French in the book pulled me out of the story.
If used to give the characters authenticity and anchor furthermore the story in France during tragic events like it’s the case here, it’s regrettable but it defeats the purpose entirely to have your characters speak like toddlers.

“Monsieur Winslow, comment-allez vous?” the elder man greeted.
“Ça va, merci. Et vous?”
“Trés bien, merci. Madamoiselle Claudine est en la caravane.” He pointed to a trailer on the right. Thanking him again, Jesse took off in the direction of Claudine’s trailer.

If you think it doesn’t matter in the scheme of the whole story, good for you, I’m glad some of you could enjoy the book for what it is. If you don’t have notions of French it shouldn’t bother you the least.

As for me, I’m merely reviewing what I was given to review. The author built a supposedly epic love story with the notion that love trumps it all, even time and based her tale on tragic historical facts.
I’m really sorry to say that given the unrealistic start I’ve read, it failed to keep me interested and most definitely hindered my ability to care for these characters and to consider the story seriously.

“Je suis à Paris.” Her diction was perfect and authentic, no trace of a New Jersey accent in her now sweet, child-like voice.

Was it, really? Perfect and authentic?

How hard is it to find a couple proof readers for a few lines of French in a book? Pretty hard it seems judging by the translations in this book.
Better suggestion yet, authors : If you don’t speak that language but can’t be bothered to have it proof-checked, maybe you should refrain to use it altogether, especially if all it offers is disservice instead of that je-ne-sais-quoi you were looking for.

Very disappointing.
Bien à vous, une lectrice Française.

“Have I done something wrong, mon moitié?”

Author Bio & Links

I must’ve been 5 or 6 when I started writing “stories”. I would write them and hide them.

Not wanting anyone to see my “secret” thoughts. I needed to write – even back then. Now I’m just not hiding them anymore. Is that a sign of maturity? Nah…

Writer, photographer, insatiable wanderluster, edge-player, foodie, music addict, pop culture fanatic, animal lover, warrior for the rights of people and planet, and avid cusser (am a Native
New Yorker, so very little offends me…and if I am offended, it must be pretty freaking bad… like bad grammar!)

I am a big believer in signs and if we keep ourselves open, there are guideposts all along the way. Stay humble. Be true. Be you.

Life is not a dress rehearsal…

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