Xavier Leret's Blog: Writer. Believes too many of his own dreams., page 6

An Incredible review for Heaven Sent

***** Heaven Sent is a self-published book by debut author Xavier Leret. When I started to read it I was ready for the disappointment that all too regularly accompanies the foray into self-published books. I could not have been more wrong.

In his telling of the story of Carlo and Daisy, two young people from opposite sides of the tracks, Leret lays bare many of our prejudices. With great skill he subtly tackles the damage which over-zealous religious beliefs cause to the lives of the innocent every day, and how the results are the direct opposite of what is intended. I was reminded of the legionary making that final wound in Christ's side, forever a weeping hole in the doctrine of The Church. He draws his bow across the strings of child abuse and prostitution with all the sensitivity of a great violinist, the music rendering us weak and drawing tears to the rims of our eyes.

It is not an easy read. If your book library consists of Jeffrey Archer and Stephenie Meyer you may not like Heaven Sent. Leret has opted to write Daisy's heavy Bristolian accent literally and it takes some getting used to. And there are typos that a good edit would resolve. But none of these should stop you reading it and appreciating it for what it is: a work of genius.

On Writing Heaven Sent

*****"A wonderful coming-of-age story meshing dark experience with the dictates of religious rules and heavenly mercy, this is a book to savor and remember long after reading." Sheila Deeth

*****"A novel with a lasting effect…highly recommended!" Amazon.com

*****"Breathtaking and heartbreaking… if you ever you find the same love that these main characters have – keep it!" Book Girl Addict

 

This is a copy of the article that I wrote for Sheila Deeth's blog.

 

When I began Heaven Sent, it was a eureka moment, not in the sense that I had cracked something profound like light speed or the secrets to eternal life, I just knew that I had started my first novel. I hadn't set out to start it. It wasn't like when I wrote plays. I would announce that my theatre company was going to tour a play and it would be about this or that, and then I would write it. Heaven Sent didn't begin like that. I just wrote a thousand words. That thousand words were about sixteen year old Carlo, except that then he was fourteen. In that thousand words were three sentences where Carlo, a lad from an extremely religious background met a girl called Daizee, whose step father sold her to sailors from out the back of his van when she was just three years old.

None of that first thousand words made it into the novel, even though at the time I thought they were a brilliant thousand words. But what I thought was really special was Daizee and Carlo. Carlo was like everything that I wanted to be but didn't have the courage to be. And Daizee – well I just saw her through his eyes and she was dazzling. She was everything that would scare the hell out a parent. Crude, guttural, hard and yet vulnerable – though she would only show that side to Carlo. But more than this, she understands life. She knows that nothing is what it seems because she has been abused by the upright as well as the lowly.

Two weeks later I had sketched out what I thought the story would be. Then of course the characters decided to take over the narrative. Daizee and Carlo taught me how to write the book. They were very patient. They let me veer off on tangents and experiment in style. They let me have two or three years off when I wrote other plays or made a couple of movies – though they were talking to me constantly – Daizee especially. She was in my ear all the time. When I wanted to give up she would curse me, calling me all sorts.

Just after Christmas a year ago I sat down to finish the story, nothing was going to get in the way. I hadn't touched it for a year and I was angry at myself for not completing it.

Back then I thought Daizee and Carlo would have an equal presence. I wanted it to be equal. It took me half of last year to realise that actually it was really Carlo's story. Not to denigrate Daisy – I had written huge passages of her back story, that were shocking and disturbing – some of it I still think is extraordinary, but it was too much for most readers. And it wasn't very present, it was in the past and a story needs to move forward. I had written her stuff as first person narrative, she spoke directly to the reader and because it was so disturbing it was alienating. Heaven Sent is dark as it is, but to have added in that detail would have put off too many readers. So I/we compromised. Also during this last year I cut all the work of the five previous years. That was difficult.

Daizee's accent is thick Bristolian. Bristolian is almost like another language. I began to experiment with the accent over the summer and found that it made me experiment with her vocabulary. Using the accent gave her a very clear poetry and rhythm. I loved the way that visually it stood out from the page. It makes Daizee appear from out of this world. I think also it immediately makes people prejudiced against her – which is how most of the characters in the book are when confronted by her. She is difficult to understand and her accent will suggest to many that she is trash. But not to Carlo. And because he listens and loves… then perhaps…

Another 5***** Review for Heaven Sent

Another incredible review. This one from Sheila Deeth in Oregon.

"Heaven Sent, by Xavier Leret is set in Bristol England and tells of a Catholic boy from an overly religious family meeting up with a child prostitute. Both of them outcasts on the streetcorner, they form a dangerous friendship. Carlo's attempts to empathize with Daisy lead him to the seamiest side of the city. A wonderful coming-of-age story meshing dark experience with the dictates of religious rules and heavenly mercy, this is a book to savor and remember long after reading." Read more.

 

My guest post is up on her site now! In it I explain some of my writng process.

Win a copy of Heaven Sent

I'm the guest post on Rex Robot Reviews. Visit the site and you could win a copy of Heaven Sent. Competition ends April 20 2011.

 

And you'll never guess what else. Another competition to win Heaven Sent! Yes you heard it right! Check out vvb32. To win here you need to visit my moviereel, watch a clip and let them know which one. Personally I would choose the one about the old man dying. This competition ends May 1 2011.

Heaven Sent Selected for reading by Bloggers Unite Book Club

I'm stunned and honoured that Heaven Sent has been selected by Bloggers Unite Book Club for a group read in Feb 2012.

4.5 Stars On Amazon and Good Reads

My first reviews are in and they are humdinger! You can find them and buy the book here. But because they are my first reviews you must forgive me for pasting them into this post.

*****A novel with a lasting effect…highly recommended!, 31 Mar 2011

By 
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This is essentially a love story between two young people from different sides of the tracks.. one brought up in an oppressively religious household, the other dragged up & knocked about by life. The effect the two main characters have on each other is explosive.

Through the eyes of the boy Carlo the author allows us to see beyond the damaged front put up by Daizee and shows us her vulnerability. The reader is drawn into their relationship, willing it to succeed against all odds, whilst at the same time wanting to somehow make contact with Carlo and shout "Keep away from her! She's dangerous!" It is, at times, a painful read, as it examines the less savoury elements of human nature…however it also reminds us of the delights & passions of first love. It is quite different from anything I've read before & I found myself reading through the night just to see what happened next!

Reading this novel made me think about how appearances can be deceptive and how even the smallest decisions can change the course of our lives. It reminded me that whatever life throws at us we all need to love and be loved. A novel which will have a lasting effect on how I see life…Heaven Sent Heaven Sent

 

**** Difficult themes but well worth a read, 28 Mar 2011

By 
– See all my reviews


This review is from: Heaven Sent (Kindle Edition)

Having never really (I don't think) come across books of this genre before, I was really interested to see how the story would unfold. I wouldn't say it's the easiest book to read but it is definitely worthwhile, as the writer handles the themes involved with great care and skill. I would say that I'm glad I read it!! I think the main reason I found it so hard to read was because the main character, Carlo, is such a likeable personality that I didn't want anything bad to happen to him. We could all probably see elements of our sixteen year old selves in him; rebelling against some of the ideals and principles our parents teach us growing up…its par for the course. He's incredibly naive, although the deeper he gets into the situation he finds himself in, he thinks he's an adult. The fact that he imagines alternative views to his real experiences underline the fact that he is still a child. However, where he does show his maturity, is in his attitude to the events that unfold. He knows when something is wrong, he feels responsible for his actions (even if he doesn't confess straight-away), and he shows remorse for his actions. He doesn't try to blame someone else. He isn't really a bad lad, just out of his depths. Again, when it comes to Daizee, there is a childlike maturity, we as the reader (maybe like Carlo's parents) formulate the opinion, rather cynically, that this can only lead to no good and Carlo is a nice boy, but he sees something we can't. Daizee is the complete antithesis to Carlo, but this doesn't stop him from caring about her, and showing her incredible loyalty. He feels a duty to protect her, which you have to admire.

Daizee is a much harder character to like. She's a tough personality on the outside, but Carlo sees the vulnerability inside. Essentially, she is a victim of circumstances. She hasn't had the same safe, happy childhood as Carlo, hers has been more nightmarish and about living by her wits, so her moral code and justifications are not what "Society" would deem acceptable. At times, she seems happy to manipulate to get what she wants, and the cynical view is, is she doing this to Carlo. You just aren't sure she can be trusted. In hindsight, these are probably my own prejudices against her, rather like Carlo's parents. It's easy to judge her and say "she had a choice", but Society did nothing to protect her when she was at her most vulnerable. Yes, she has a choice, but its quite clear that Daizee sees this as her lot in life and doesn't expect it to change even with Carlo's influence, which ultimately is a tragedy. The only thing she wants out of life is something untarnished by her world that will love her unconditionally, in this case, Carlo.

Now I don't understand teenage speak at the best of times. It does require a great deal of concentration on my part, and the babelfish in my brain to be functioning properly. Even then, I still struggle. Mix that with a Bristolian accent and yes, I was in trouble. It did take a little while to get to grips with Daizee's speaking voice, which at times I did find a little comical (I think it was more my attempts to hear her voice by mimicking it while I was reading it, than anything else). Hats off to the author for this because it couldn't have been easy to write and I think it works really well.

After all this praise, was there anything I didn't like about the book. Well…there was one small thing, and it is very much a personal grumble. Speech marks. I did at times find it hard to know when characters, other than Daizee, had started speaking. I know it's accepted writing practice to either use them or in this case, not, but personally, I find it harder to read when they're absent.

Would I recommend this book, yes, but probably not to anyone under the age of 16/17, due to the content. If you're easily shocked by things then this probably isn't the book for you as it contains themes that show the harsher side of life. Although having said that, it's probably one of the reasons why you should read it. We all know that some people live nightmare lives. Maybe we should just feel grateful that we never have to experience them ourselves. Or hope we never will.

My thanks to Xavier for allowing me to read and review his book!

Disclaimer: I was kindly supplied with a copy of this book by the author, in exchange for an honest review. I have not been provided with any compensation for this review other than a copy of the book.

 

You can read other reviews by Spritesby here http://spritebysbokhylle.wordpress.co...

 

Heaven Sent - Chapter 1

The first time he saw her a shudder passed through him like the word of God through a virgin. He was sixteen years old and on his way home from school, lost in thought thinking about Christ and pain and torment, scourges, blood, demons and eternal damnation; all the subjects that dominated his life as he had grown up. Walking with his head down, not noticing the empty street. The rise of the black tarmac in the road. The foundation brush of dirt. Or the crisp packet in a crinkle twist on the wind.

His lips were mouthing an argument he was imagining he was having with his mother, who had started berating him for watching a movie on a friend's mobile phone, that lunch time, involving two naked girls writhing one on top of the other. The argument had escalated, as it always did, into a full blown ecumenical onslaught, as his mother frantically fought for the safety of his soul, an organ he felt sure did not exist, by employing ever more complex theological debate, veering further and further from the issue at hand, insisting that there was no other God but Christ, who is the light and the truth and his kingdom is full of angels who can pass through this world, under the nailed down lino of our dreams, to walk though walls because they are of another dimension, without their intercession the world would be a far worse place and his love is a beauty that transcends and renders all else inadequate.

With his head shaking he told her that this cannot be true, that angels and demons, gods and sprites just couldn't be and that all the problems and solutions of the world were man-made. Not come from above. And that there is nothing more beautiful than the human form, or the human imagination. The sheer complexity of our organism is God-like. So entangled was he in debate that he didn't see the girl ahead of him in a short skirt and a tight t-shirt with a heart cut into it to reveal the crest of her young breasts, doing a little skitter with her feet, flashing the pantless dimple between her legs at the traffic, high as a kite; her figure tall and slender, her hair short, spiked and fiery red, her eyes emerald volcanic gems.

His mother yelled no, you blaspheme, there is nothing more beautiful or perfect than Christ, born of the virgin. It was at that moment that the girl turned abruptly and he crashed into her, found himself looking into her eyes and, feeling the kiss of the wind flush him of all the baggage of saints and sinners, he heard his inner voice say, no mum, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. She is perfect. And when the girl said, look whir yer fucken go'en yer cunt, he saw the sun halo her and flash her hair with a gunpowder dance.

Later, when he got home, and his father said grace before supper, he hardly heard the long paragraphs of prayers or saw the saints nodding on the walls, or the Christ grimace on the cross behind his mother. He was watching the girl as she walked away from him, the sass in her buttocks and back, the bounce in her heels, teasing him on, and he imagined that she stopped and looked back and smiled at him and it was a perfect smile. A holy smile, the kind of smile the virgin gave to the angel before he had his way with her.

And he lay in bed that night and thought of her, tossing and turning, through the darkness of the night, once more beguiled by the fireworks that rollicked in her hair, crackling with all the colours of spring. When he woke, the next morning, he did so with a start. The day began as his life had jolted awake the moment he first saw her. He came in for breakfast but just stared at it and rose early and left, without saying a word to his parents who talked around him. After retracing his steps back to the street corner, he placed himself on the wall opposite to witness the in situ re-enactment of his bump with her and shot in for close ups when he transformed her curse to a smile.

At school he was shut off, staring out into the playground, and when he should have been writing down French, he wrote poems to her. That Sunday he prayed at church that he would meet her, he prayed even though he did not believe in God. In the bathroom, at home, he would stand in front of his mirror and practice what he would say to her, sometimes engaging in arguments so that they could kiss and make up. When he walked home from school he would loiter in the hope that he might catch a glimpse of her. And, more often than not, she was there, outside the old houses with big windows and man size bins, smoking cigarettes, laughing and chatting with the other girls working the afternoon traffic. But a flash of anxiety would cut through him and he would cross to the other side of the road.

One Friday afternoon, whilst engrossed in a phantom conversation with her, explaining that life was not exclusive to earth, but it might be that intelligent life was exclusive to our planet for this moment in time. When our time is done, he mused, a new intelligentsia may sprout into being in another cosmos millions of lights years away. Whose past light has taken whole extinctions to reach us. Giving us a snapshot of time at the birth of stars, heating into being new planets with whole new permutations of life, whose evolution was out of tick with our time. Turning the corner he stopped dead in his tracks. Under a wall that was painted with stars and a moon, ten metres to the left of a bin that looked like a docking pod with the number 1 on it, she stood in a short skirt with bare legs and a T-shirt with the words, heaven sent, embolden in gold across her breasts. At first she pretended not to see him keeping her gaze on something way off down the street. But when he didn't take his eyes off her she shifted her attention to him, scowled and said, fuck off.

He coughed, said, sorry, didn't know what to do, turned, felt her watching him, and, feeling like he was performing unrehearsed in a costume two sizes too small for him, he began to walk away.
Wait, she said.
He stopped and turned back.
Dew gone red.
Have I?
Yeh.
Afraid of the silence he said the first thing that came into his mind. What school do you go to?
The question made her blink. Scaw?
Yeah.
I don't go a scaw.
You don't?
Na.
How come?
Taint no scaw dat wonts I. Ets a fucker.
She took a drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke out.
Whir dew goes? she said.
Bart's.
She nodded.
My name's Carlo, he said. What's yours?
Daizee, she said.
That's a nice name, he said.
Ez et?
Yeah, it's a summer name like the flower.
She almost laughed. Wot, you's a fucken poet?
He felt limp with embarrassment.
Wot can I do's for you's den, Mistur Shakespeares?
I'm going to get a coke, Daizee. Would you like one?Carlo began to hear music. Her hips began to hustle.
A coke? She said.
He couldn't help but smile as he watched her do a little jig. The movement of her hips made her breasts sway. Yes, he said.
I dohn't jus go's wiv any ole cock, she said. I'm no dat sort o... Dew got enee dosh mosh?
Carlo had managed to save two days dinner money, which he planned to spend that weekend at the church youth club. Fasting to save was his parent's idea.
I got me's a righteous feelen bowt dew my sweetz, she said as she took what little Carlo had, like destinee jus poked I.
Have you?
Yah, tis troo, she grinned.
They went for a walk. He brought her an ice cold coke and they sat in a park with swings, a slide and a climbing frame, crushed in by houses and the main road that ran by it that was rammed with the rush hour traffic. They chatted. It was like a real date. For a brief moment he almost heard his mother's voice but Daizee managed to pull him back by saying that his time was up, he said, can we meet again, and she said yeah, shure fing sweetz, I'ziz ooked awl week but I can squeeze a bit of room for dews on Fridi, so ow's abowt dat?

Heaven Sent By Xavier Leret Has Descended

It is here from on high. HEAVEN SENT has descended. Currently available here at Amazon and Smashwords and soon to be available at Barnes And Noble, Sony, Kobo, Apple and Diesel. At the bargain price of just $3.99

Sixteen year old Carlo has no experience of the world. He desperately wants eternity to provide an alternative to the strict moral imperative of his Catholic parents. When Daizee Byatt, a girl from the other side of the tracks, crashes into Carlo's life, the course of his future veers off the road. This is the story of what Heaven Sent.

Heaven Sent 8

His mother woke him early the next morning by throwing off the covers from his bed. She was dressed in nun black, her bobbed hair was set with razor edges.

Rise and shine, she said.

What time is it? he asked.

Seven, she answered. It is time to get ready for church.

An hour and half later he was standing in church, dressed in a black suit, white shirt and green tie, below blue painted clouds with pink fluffs heralded by fat cherubs with trumpets, standing with his hands in his pockets holding his new phone. Because breakfast was forbidden on Sunday, due to the holiness of communion, his stomach groaned with starvation as he watched the priest who was decorated in a purple chasuble with a thick red wine strip down the front, with a double italic crucifix on his chest, presenting to the gathered a silver chalice. An altar boy, decorated in a red cassock and white smock was kneeling to his right. Every Sunday the performance at the altar was the same. Carlo watched and wondered that if there was eternal life whether it would involve going to church everyday, or would God demand that you just kneel forever in his light and occasionally get up when it was your turn to make the tea. He knew what hell was, he had seen the pictures of the torture gardens, but it struck him that an equally powerful depiction of heaven had yet to be conceived.

His mother was standing next to him. Her eyes were closed. He wondered what it was she was trying to block out.

A voice spoke to him. It said God moves in mysterious ways and proves his point when we least expect it, sending his messengers into the most hazardous terrain, acknowledging our faults, our natural diversions and when we have sunk deeper than ever before, he offers some reprieve or eternal indemnity. God's beard is long so that we can all hang on to it, reach up for random kisses falling indiscriminately from his holy lips, and Daizee, this child, is the most gentle caress to fall from that aged mouth.

Looking around he observed the panorama of crosses and the figurines of the saints in their robes, the virgin in blue, St Peter with his bald patch. Above the altar hung a huge Christ. Carlo looked at him and said go on then, make it right. Make this work. Let me in on her world. I want in. I need to understand. I have had enough of this life of mine. I want hers. I want to make a difference to her world.

There was a sudden shock on the inside of his trouser pocket, a fast judder that played on the tip of his penis. It made him jump. His penis responded. It vibrated again. He put his hand on his mother's, she opened her eyes. It vibrated again.

He said, I need to go to the toilet.

His mother nodded. His father was standing beside her with the whites of his eyes showing.

Carlo left his pew, walked up the aisle, out of the main doors and into the main road. Certain that he was alone he took the phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear.

Hello, he said softly.

Is that Peter? asked the voice. He sounded like an older man. And a well to do one at that.

Yes.

Are you available?

Err, yes.

I mean are you available now?

Carlo looked back at the church for a moment.

Hello?

Yes, I'm here, said Carlo.

Well are you?

Yes, said Carlo. I am available now.

It is Coming

Word from on high.

Heaven Sent by Xavier Leret is descending.