Mr. Blue Sky
April 27, 2018
Key Take Away: "Since I am ignorant, my conscience is quite at ease in my enjoyment of the twists and turns through the story’s ending revelations."
I don’t mind judging a book by its cover, whether literally or figuratively. In life, my conscience takes no burden in having a pleasant face to look at when in conversation, and like so, an interesting cover on the bookshelf has no ill effects. In both cases, if the inside is complete garbage, well....we all do the same thing with garbage. My shelf won’t mourn it.
So when I look in the horror category and see a scary eye with the words 'Mr. Blue Sky,' I’m all over it.
Then five minutes in I ask myself, “Is this a Bigfoot story?” and the answer seems to be “Yes."
My heart is lifted and all I can do is give myself a sincere pat on the back—“Thank you, Alex, for judging a book by its cover.”
Well, it ends up being not a true Bigfoot story, not really at all. This is ok. It’s pretty close and can probably fill the hole in my heart temporarily until the day an author out there creates something worthy of filling my hole.
Something with the word 'squatchin.'
Mr. Blue Sky takes us through the truth and reconciliation plot of a woman named Rebecca Samuels. A lonely, early-thirties, semi-independent adult. Although she does live on her own, she is employed by her uncle, a man who has taken on the role of father since Rebecca’s own was murdered when she was a teenager.
Her father’s murder has been a constant burden on her adult life (she is blamed for it by all people who have any common sense). And her history is the cause of constant therapy, doomed relationships, and tormented nights. The story sets forth at the beginning of the most recent mental breakdown as Rebecca begins to have vivid nightmares causing her to relive and retell her childhood experiences with her current therapist.
An adequate method for the writer to tell her past, a child growing up with an almost-Bigfoot best friend, and how this childhood friend ended up killing her father. This, of course, no one believes and Rebecca ends up leaving her little childhood village and mother to live with her uncle.
Well, almost 20 years later and she decides her best course of action is to travel home, reconnect with her mother, and figure out if her many therapists over the years were right and her Bigfoot friend (a.k.a Mr. Blue Sky) is all in her imagination. Her sanity depends on it. A pretty straight-forward, generic plot—to go home and confront the demons of the past to be able to grow into someone deserving of a happy-ever-after ending.
Is Bigfoot real? Is he as mean a horror as the dreams foreshadow? Is it something else entirely?
Turns out it’s something else...but not entirely.
The build to the climax introduces the love interest, Patrick, an old childhood crush of Rebecca’s that for some reason she holds a huge grudge for well into her adult life. There is some mother/daughter bonding. Then there is some cryptic covert government angst about her small little childhood village.
We find ourselves in an “us against the man" type situation. Then by the end we have monkeys dressing in trench coats waving around assassin's creed type wrist blades. A clown inspired telepath that is in and out of the story in a blink of the eye (almost as if the author forgot what his role was). Conspiracy on conspiracy topped with a world domination ultimate plan.
Poor Patrick, all the while, is just wanting to have relations with Rebecca, as nobody listens to the common sense coming from his mouth.
I don’t want to ruin any endings here. The story gets a little outlandish. I’m not a doctor or biologist or accomplished in any study of genetics so I can enjoy the craziness. I have a strong feeling that if I had a stronger grasp in any of those fields, I might put this book under a comedy genre. Since I am ignorant, my conscience is quite at ease in my enjoyment of the twists and turns through the story’s ending revelations.
All in all no heavy duty complaints with John Darke’s Mr. Blue Sky. If I were in a mood, I could deep-dive into an almost in-your-face comparison to human brutality versus the innocence of animals and nature.
I’m not, and I won't.
Didn’t hate it, and it had some imagination, but neither would I read it again.
Rated 16 out of 23 chromosomes
Have a nice day.