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Raechels Eyes: The Strange But True Case of a Human-Alien Hybrid
A fascinating true story in novel form, telling of the author's daughter's experience with her college roommate,who turns out to be a live-in alien hybrid under government protection. Amazing, but true. A real page-turner, together with actual hypnosis session transcripts backing up the factual claims.
- GenresAliens
402 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
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August 5, 2019I spilled tea tree oil all over this book and I'm very sorry. I hope the library doesn't fine me and I wish I had more tea tree oil.
August 7, 2016
I want to make it exceptionally clear: I did not go into this book as a cynic. Even if I don’t personally believe in aliens, alien-hybrids, or Star Kids, the ideas are fun to entertain and it could even make a good book if handled right.
RAECHEL EYES is “true story” about an alien-human hybrid, as described by someone who “actually” met her. It’s divided into two halves, the first being a summarized version of how a daughter from a dysfunctional family ended up rooming with a literal alien-human hybrid, Raechel. This narrative shifts between the early 1970s and the mid-1950s, and central characters are Marisa (the daughter of one of the authors), Helen (said author), Raechel (the hybrid), and Harry (Raechel’s adoptive father). The second half of the book is supposed to provide “proof” about Raechel’s existence, but it’s mostly about Helen being stalked and traumatically impregnated by aliens among many, many other things.
Of course, that’s not the point of the book. Oh no, the story’s malleable as butter as far as Helen Littrell and Jean Bilodeuax are concerned. The point of RAECHEL’S EYES is to explain how aliens “really” been interacting with the human race since the 1950s. As in, the book is intended to be nonfiction.
The narrative tries to ground ETs into a workable reality. Secret laboratories, crashed UFOs, lizard men, Star Kids, Men in Black-esque governmental agents… everything short of aliens building the pyramids are brought down to earth (ha) through the experiences of the author of the book, Helen, and her family. It’s one of the few elements of the book that works in theory: Raechel’s integration into the human world mirrors that of Helen (and thus, humanity) integrating into the cosmos. In a book that’s supposed to be about science versus compassion, it could have worked well.
Here’s the problem with “true” stories: they need to co-exist within the time and place they’re set in. Unfortunately, it’s an even worse problem than usual here. However, the book can’t even do that much even before we reach can address the possibly of alien life.
When details DO appear in RAECHEL’S EYES, they’re superficial at best. Period appropriate commodities and slang are conspicuously absent. Despite most of the key events happening in the early seventies, for example, the Vietnam War is never mentioned. Meanwhile, basic facts are often wrong like the day of the Macy’s Day Parade. I frequently had to put down the book and do extensive research on things like the 1970s welfare system, the history of ESL teaching techniques, or treatments for diabetes/blindness, because even correct details felt wrong in presentation. Seeing as the book is supposed to be a very true and very personal story, why was no research or even simple fact checking put into the final product? If the book is unbelievable, it has nothing to do with aliens.
In order to “confirm” the numerous stories of alien contact, the existence of Star Kids, etc., every coincidence on the planet needed to happen to one specific person and her family in order to function as an intimate tell-all. It’s an uphill battle to make a story like this convincing, let alone plausible enough to pass as “true.” That the book already fails before even touching on the story itself isn’t a good sign.
In literature, there’s this concept of the Unreliable Narrator. Essentially, the unreliable narrator is a device used to make the reader question the truthfulness of what they’re being told. In certain genres, like horror, it can be chillingly effective. In nonfiction, it’s nothing but trouble.
In the case of RAECHEL’S EYES, Helen is extremely unreliable as both an author and a character. In Part I, she spends all of her time dragging her abusive husband’s name through the mud, to the point where she seems completely uninvolved in any of extraterrestrial events surrounding her daughter. In fact, Raechel and Helen share almost no dialogue, and it’s made worse by the fact that Helen’s version of events in Part II frequently contradicts, changes, or completely invents new events that happened in Part I to the point that it’s impossible to determine which narrative is supposed to be the “true” story.
Even Helen’s excuses for knowing certain things can’t stay consistent. For example:
In Part I, a few things are explained to Helen.
In Part II, Helen originally claims that some of the events of Part I actually happened to her.
Then she claims Marisa told her everything off camera.
Then she claims Raechel told/showed her everything.
Then she claims Raechel’s adoptive father showed/told the facts to her.
Then she says that Marisa was ALSO a magical alien-hybrid baby, and mother/daughter share a long-distance psychic connection.
Then she just says that Marisa merely told her everything again.
Note that I’m not defining what Helen was told, mostly because she can’t be bothered either. Even ignoring the improbity of some of those claims, it’s never clear how much information was discovered by Helen firsthand, how much of it was secondhand, how she discovered it, and when. Important facts are hidden under a deluge of reiterations of the events of Part I and flashbacks involving evil female doctors, and psychic birds. People who have never before been introduced suddenly have in-depth knowledge about Raechel, or met her in-person despite their complete absence in Part I. No timeline is ever established in either section of the book.
To paraphrase a quote, Littrell and Bilodeaux do seem to understand that writers sometimes include contradictory facts or opinions to strength their own argument, but they haven’t quite grasped why. When people other than Helen describe Raechel, it sounds like they’re describing a completely different person from Helen. The non-Helen Raechel had food allergies, oddly colored skin, and oddly large eyes, but the similarities end there. She doesn’t even wear the giant sunglasses that Helen spent over 300 pages ranting about! In the accounts from the friends and family of Marisa, Raechel left after a suicide attempt—that’s all. No explanation is ever given for the discrepancies.
The primary “evidence” of Helen’s truthfulness are the hypnotic sessions she undergoes for years to remember the “truth” that she’s repressed from herself. While there are many legitimate uses of hypnotism in modern psychology, the use of it to deal with repressive memories has been highly criticized for decades. As such, every single sentence within Part II has to be called into question. This book was written in 2004, long after the infamous false memory/abuse cases that peppered the 80s and 90s. The authors should have known damn well that even if everything in the transcribed logs are completely true, that the hypnotism sessions are not reliable evidence to present to the world. Even ignoring the hypnotism, memories aren’t always factual to begin with.
If I had to choose one singular piece of media to contrast to RAECHEL’S EYES, I would point to the MOTHMAN PROPHECIES. It’s the perfect book to showcase why and where the narrator of RAECHEL’S EYES fails. Where the MOTHMAN PROPHECIES uses numerous (and sometimes conflicting) accounts to discuss UFO sightings and strange phenomena, RAECHEL’S EYES solely uses a mother’s interpretation of her daughter’s and their friend’s experiences. There’s no outside source to collaborate or the statements made by anyone who’s not Helen—not even that of the woman in the middle of it all, the daughter herself. “These interviews/letters I’m allegedly transcribing totally exist because I say so” simply isn’t a compelling standpoint.
I genuinely try not to spoil books, but there’s one last major factor in Helen’s unreliable authorship. There’s a reason that the daughter isn’t around to verify her mother’s story: Marisa died before the book was published. One of the central figures in this in entire story, and she can’t even confirm or deny the actions and opinions attributed to her in the book. We have no way of knowing if Helen’s account of her daughter’s blindness or abusive home life even accurately reflect Marisa’s experiences, either.
It reflects badly on Helen, especially in the context of how the book was written. Part II begins with Helen wondering if Marisa ever existed. She evidently has no concern over forcing her daughter’s family into reliving her tragic death during interviews. She admits to never wanting Marisa, and had difficultly connecting to the girl as a baby. Despite this, Marisa’s POV chapters are frequently spent praising her mother page after page, which I found suspicious even before the reveal. Now, they’re downright disturbing. Taken in conjunction with the fact that Marisa’s real name wasn’t used in the book—a step usually taken to distance the living from a particular work—I have to assume that she did not want to be associated with her mother’s work, even if it is accurate. Her mother made damn sure that we’d never know, either.
There are many morally questionable things in this world that I can tolerate in both life and literature. The exploitation of the dead is not one of them.
Fuck. This. Book.
As much as I would like to end the review there, I can’t. Even if taken as fiction and the disgusting morals of one of the two authors ignored outright, the book fails completely.
Almost everything could be forgiven if the book was written well enough to overcome the hurdles placed before it. The idea that the government discovered aliens, and then said aliens’ children grew up during the Cold War is a novel premise. With enough nuance, could even be presented as possible fact. That hope died on the first page, where the most unconvincing introduction in the universe crash landed into the book, and the subpar writing quality refused to leave.
Look, if you can’t convince me that a college freshman saw a counselor about campus housing, you’re probably won’t convince me aliens exist.
As I mentioned before, for example, there’s no clear timeline. Both parts of the book jump around between the 1950s, 1960s, and the 1970s with little to no indicators when a particular moment is taking place. Key events and conversations are skipped entirely for seemingly no reason. The second half of the book is the worst in this regard, as Helen’s interviewer changes topics at random with no indication as to why. The logs are a jumbled mess, and their transcription is hard to follow due to the constant miscommunication, fragmented sentences, and Helen’s constant abuse of pauses denoted by ellipses. I’m not even sure that Helen knows what’s going on most of the time.
There’s another concept in writing called “Show, Don’t Tell,” which refers to showing a scene rather than telling the readers about it. Unfortunately, neither author seem to know how to do this. We’re frequently told how things are, such as when Marisa and Raechel first meet: the reader is just supposed to accept that “hit it off like sisters,” despite neither having a single conversation recorded with one another. We’re supposed to accept that the logs of part two are completely and wholly accurate despite no evidence to the contrary. We’re supposed to accept Helen has impeccable knowledge of secret government experiments despite her frequent lapses in memory about everything else.
On a side note, one of the few outside sources used to confirm the story is a letter supposedly from the university that Raechel attended, which confirms that a student named Racheal—note the misspelling—had been enrolled there in 1972. You’d think the authors would have gotten the hybrid’s name right; it’s only in the title of the freaking book!
Regardless of her name, I have to give credit where credit is due. In Part I, Raechel might come off as a cliché “too good for this sinful Earth” beacon of purity, but for some reason… it works. There’s this aura of bittersweet nostalgia interwoven into her character, and her naïve innocence perfectly contrasts against the very real and very dark world that she’s been briefly thrust into. The way she hides herself in plain sight is clever—in what decade other than the 70s could someone get away with big sunglasses and full body jumpsuits? —and her heartbreak at others reactions to her true appearance feels sincere. The dissonance between setting, character, and culture works strongly in her favor.
Good job book, you literally did one thing right.
Unfortunately, I struggle to find any words to describe a single person who plays a central role in the story. The “good” characters are generically kind, and the “bad” characters are such one-note villains that they wouldn’t be out of place in a Saturday morning cartoon show. Even Raechel can’t stay the same, as she turns from a sweet, if naïve, girl in Part I into a cruel monster in Part II for no conceivable reason. If the “strange but true” claim cover is to be believed, every single person in the book should be real. They should all have unique and consistent strengths, flaws, and beliefs. However, there’s nothing to distinguish anyone’s personality outside of their role or situation. It only extenuates the problem when “real” interviews of multiple people all read with the same voice and tone as one another.
Everyone aside from the Irredeemable Abusive Husband, the Corrupt Cops Who Brag in Front of Civilians About Being Drug Dealers (yes, really, this happens), the Evil Men in Black, and the Evil Female Doctor acts like their primary functions are to praise the author, Helen Littrell, whenever she appears. The aliens even adore her from birth, because she’s one of the few rare super special humans in the whole world! It’s creepy and inherently dishonest ego-boosting. Yet her actual actions amount to plotting to kill her husband, settling for threatening his entire career instead if he crosses her, shows no remorse for probably driving a girl to attempt suicide, frequently refers to said girl as being soulless, openly admits to not loving her children, and clearly twisted the facts to her advantage every chance she had when writing the book.
But it doesn’t matter if RAECHEL EYES is approached as fiction or nonfiction: it’s objectively nothing. The reader is expected to shovel in all this shit without question. RAECHEL’S EYES is disrespectful to its readers on every level, and that’s unforgivable. The sooner I forget about this dreck, the better.
RAECHEL EYES is “true story” about an alien-human hybrid, as described by someone who “actually” met her. It’s divided into two halves, the first being a summarized version of how a daughter from a dysfunctional family ended up rooming with a literal alien-human hybrid, Raechel. This narrative shifts between the early 1970s and the mid-1950s, and central characters are Marisa (the daughter of one of the authors), Helen (said author), Raechel (the hybrid), and Harry (Raechel’s adoptive father). The second half of the book is supposed to provide “proof” about Raechel’s existence, but it’s mostly about Helen being stalked and traumatically impregnated by aliens among many, many other things.
Of course, that’s not the point of the book. Oh no, the story’s malleable as butter as far as Helen Littrell and Jean Bilodeuax are concerned. The point of RAECHEL’S EYES is to explain how aliens “really” been interacting with the human race since the 1950s. As in, the book is intended to be nonfiction.
The narrative tries to ground ETs into a workable reality. Secret laboratories, crashed UFOs, lizard men, Star Kids, Men in Black-esque governmental agents… everything short of aliens building the pyramids are brought down to earth (ha) through the experiences of the author of the book, Helen, and her family. It’s one of the few elements of the book that works in theory: Raechel’s integration into the human world mirrors that of Helen (and thus, humanity) integrating into the cosmos. In a book that’s supposed to be about science versus compassion, it could have worked well.
Here’s the problem with “true” stories: they need to co-exist within the time and place they’re set in. Unfortunately, it’s an even worse problem than usual here. However, the book can’t even do that much even before we reach can address the possibly of alien life.
When details DO appear in RAECHEL’S EYES, they’re superficial at best. Period appropriate commodities and slang are conspicuously absent. Despite most of the key events happening in the early seventies, for example, the Vietnam War is never mentioned. Meanwhile, basic facts are often wrong like the day of the Macy’s Day Parade. I frequently had to put down the book and do extensive research on things like the 1970s welfare system, the history of ESL teaching techniques, or treatments for diabetes/blindness, because even correct details felt wrong in presentation. Seeing as the book is supposed to be a very true and very personal story, why was no research or even simple fact checking put into the final product? If the book is unbelievable, it has nothing to do with aliens.
In order to “confirm” the numerous stories of alien contact, the existence of Star Kids, etc., every coincidence on the planet needed to happen to one specific person and her family in order to function as an intimate tell-all. It’s an uphill battle to make a story like this convincing, let alone plausible enough to pass as “true.” That the book already fails before even touching on the story itself isn’t a good sign.
In literature, there’s this concept of the Unreliable Narrator. Essentially, the unreliable narrator is a device used to make the reader question the truthfulness of what they’re being told. In certain genres, like horror, it can be chillingly effective. In nonfiction, it’s nothing but trouble.
In the case of RAECHEL’S EYES, Helen is extremely unreliable as both an author and a character. In Part I, she spends all of her time dragging her abusive husband’s name through the mud, to the point where she seems completely uninvolved in any of extraterrestrial events surrounding her daughter. In fact, Raechel and Helen share almost no dialogue, and it’s made worse by the fact that Helen’s version of events in Part II frequently contradicts, changes, or completely invents new events that happened in Part I to the point that it’s impossible to determine which narrative is supposed to be the “true” story.
Even Helen’s excuses for knowing certain things can’t stay consistent. For example:
In Part I, a few things are explained to Helen.
In Part II, Helen originally claims that some of the events of Part I actually happened to her.
Then she claims Marisa told her everything off camera.
Then she claims Raechel told/showed her everything.
Then she claims Raechel’s adoptive father showed/told the facts to her.
Then she says that Marisa was ALSO a magical alien-hybrid baby, and mother/daughter share a long-distance psychic connection.
Then she just says that Marisa merely told her everything again.
Note that I’m not defining what Helen was told, mostly because she can’t be bothered either. Even ignoring the improbity of some of those claims, it’s never clear how much information was discovered by Helen firsthand, how much of it was secondhand, how she discovered it, and when. Important facts are hidden under a deluge of reiterations of the events of Part I and flashbacks involving evil female doctors, and psychic birds. People who have never before been introduced suddenly have in-depth knowledge about Raechel, or met her in-person despite their complete absence in Part I. No timeline is ever established in either section of the book.
To paraphrase a quote, Littrell and Bilodeaux do seem to understand that writers sometimes include contradictory facts or opinions to strength their own argument, but they haven’t quite grasped why. When people other than Helen describe Raechel, it sounds like they’re describing a completely different person from Helen. The non-Helen Raechel had food allergies, oddly colored skin, and oddly large eyes, but the similarities end there. She doesn’t even wear the giant sunglasses that Helen spent over 300 pages ranting about! In the accounts from the friends and family of Marisa, Raechel left after a suicide attempt—that’s all. No explanation is ever given for the discrepancies.
The primary “evidence” of Helen’s truthfulness are the hypnotic sessions she undergoes for years to remember the “truth” that she’s repressed from herself. While there are many legitimate uses of hypnotism in modern psychology, the use of it to deal with repressive memories has been highly criticized for decades. As such, every single sentence within Part II has to be called into question. This book was written in 2004, long after the infamous false memory/abuse cases that peppered the 80s and 90s. The authors should have known damn well that even if everything in the transcribed logs are completely true, that the hypnotism sessions are not reliable evidence to present to the world. Even ignoring the hypnotism, memories aren’t always factual to begin with.
If I had to choose one singular piece of media to contrast to RAECHEL’S EYES, I would point to the MOTHMAN PROPHECIES. It’s the perfect book to showcase why and where the narrator of RAECHEL’S EYES fails. Where the MOTHMAN PROPHECIES uses numerous (and sometimes conflicting) accounts to discuss UFO sightings and strange phenomena, RAECHEL’S EYES solely uses a mother’s interpretation of her daughter’s and their friend’s experiences. There’s no outside source to collaborate or the statements made by anyone who’s not Helen—not even that of the woman in the middle of it all, the daughter herself. “These interviews/letters I’m allegedly transcribing totally exist because I say so” simply isn’t a compelling standpoint.
I genuinely try not to spoil books, but there’s one last major factor in Helen’s unreliable authorship. There’s a reason that the daughter isn’t around to verify her mother’s story: Marisa died before the book was published. One of the central figures in this in entire story, and she can’t even confirm or deny the actions and opinions attributed to her in the book. We have no way of knowing if Helen’s account of her daughter’s blindness or abusive home life even accurately reflect Marisa’s experiences, either.
It reflects badly on Helen, especially in the context of how the book was written. Part II begins with Helen wondering if Marisa ever existed. She evidently has no concern over forcing her daughter’s family into reliving her tragic death during interviews. She admits to never wanting Marisa, and had difficultly connecting to the girl as a baby. Despite this, Marisa’s POV chapters are frequently spent praising her mother page after page, which I found suspicious even before the reveal. Now, they’re downright disturbing. Taken in conjunction with the fact that Marisa’s real name wasn’t used in the book—a step usually taken to distance the living from a particular work—I have to assume that she did not want to be associated with her mother’s work, even if it is accurate. Her mother made damn sure that we’d never know, either.
There are many morally questionable things in this world that I can tolerate in both life and literature. The exploitation of the dead is not one of them.
Fuck. This. Book.
As much as I would like to end the review there, I can’t. Even if taken as fiction and the disgusting morals of one of the two authors ignored outright, the book fails completely.
Almost everything could be forgiven if the book was written well enough to overcome the hurdles placed before it. The idea that the government discovered aliens, and then said aliens’ children grew up during the Cold War is a novel premise. With enough nuance, could even be presented as possible fact. That hope died on the first page, where the most unconvincing introduction in the universe crash landed into the book, and the subpar writing quality refused to leave.
Look, if you can’t convince me that a college freshman saw a counselor about campus housing, you’re probably won’t convince me aliens exist.
As I mentioned before, for example, there’s no clear timeline. Both parts of the book jump around between the 1950s, 1960s, and the 1970s with little to no indicators when a particular moment is taking place. Key events and conversations are skipped entirely for seemingly no reason. The second half of the book is the worst in this regard, as Helen’s interviewer changes topics at random with no indication as to why. The logs are a jumbled mess, and their transcription is hard to follow due to the constant miscommunication, fragmented sentences, and Helen’s constant abuse of pauses denoted by ellipses. I’m not even sure that Helen knows what’s going on most of the time.
There’s another concept in writing called “Show, Don’t Tell,” which refers to showing a scene rather than telling the readers about it. Unfortunately, neither author seem to know how to do this. We’re frequently told how things are, such as when Marisa and Raechel first meet: the reader is just supposed to accept that “hit it off like sisters,” despite neither having a single conversation recorded with one another. We’re supposed to accept that the logs of part two are completely and wholly accurate despite no evidence to the contrary. We’re supposed to accept Helen has impeccable knowledge of secret government experiments despite her frequent lapses in memory about everything else.
On a side note, one of the few outside sources used to confirm the story is a letter supposedly from the university that Raechel attended, which confirms that a student named Racheal—note the misspelling—had been enrolled there in 1972. You’d think the authors would have gotten the hybrid’s name right; it’s only in the title of the freaking book!
Regardless of her name, I have to give credit where credit is due. In Part I, Raechel might come off as a cliché “too good for this sinful Earth” beacon of purity, but for some reason… it works. There’s this aura of bittersweet nostalgia interwoven into her character, and her naïve innocence perfectly contrasts against the very real and very dark world that she’s been briefly thrust into. The way she hides herself in plain sight is clever—in what decade other than the 70s could someone get away with big sunglasses and full body jumpsuits? —and her heartbreak at others reactions to her true appearance feels sincere. The dissonance between setting, character, and culture works strongly in her favor.
Good job book, you literally did one thing right.
Unfortunately, I struggle to find any words to describe a single person who plays a central role in the story. The “good” characters are generically kind, and the “bad” characters are such one-note villains that they wouldn’t be out of place in a Saturday morning cartoon show. Even Raechel can’t stay the same, as she turns from a sweet, if naïve, girl in Part I into a cruel monster in Part II for no conceivable reason. If the “strange but true” claim cover is to be believed, every single person in the book should be real. They should all have unique and consistent strengths, flaws, and beliefs. However, there’s nothing to distinguish anyone’s personality outside of their role or situation. It only extenuates the problem when “real” interviews of multiple people all read with the same voice and tone as one another.
Everyone aside from the Irredeemable Abusive Husband, the Corrupt Cops Who Brag in Front of Civilians About Being Drug Dealers (yes, really, this happens), the Evil Men in Black, and the Evil Female Doctor acts like their primary functions are to praise the author, Helen Littrell, whenever she appears. The aliens even adore her from birth, because she’s one of the few rare super special humans in the whole world! It’s creepy and inherently dishonest ego-boosting. Yet her actual actions amount to plotting to kill her husband, settling for threatening his entire career instead if he crosses her, shows no remorse for probably driving a girl to attempt suicide, frequently refers to said girl as being soulless, openly admits to not loving her children, and clearly twisted the facts to her advantage every chance she had when writing the book.
But it doesn’t matter if RAECHEL EYES is approached as fiction or nonfiction: it’s objectively nothing. The reader is expected to shovel in all this shit without question. RAECHEL’S EYES is disrespectful to its readers on every level, and that’s unforgivable. The sooner I forget about this dreck, the better.
December 31, 2014
Interesting story about an adopted alien girl who roomed with a blind girl.
May 25, 2020
This was an extremely well done book and very interesting. It read like a novel. It concerned an alien hybrid named Raechel who was involved in a secret government program of trying to get hybrids “humanized”. Raechel was enrolled in college and housed was a legally blind girl named Marissa. Since Marissa was unable to see Raechel, she was not aware of her physical differences. However, Marissa was aware of her mysterious visitors, the “men in black”, her strange habits, and her strange diet. Then one day Raechel disappeared, and the school claimed to have never even had a student by her name. This concluded the first part of the book, which although enjoying it, I was unable to believe that it was a true story. But the book continued on with more information about Marissa’s mom, who it turns out was a very intricate part of this story, as she had had a life long unremembered
history and connection to aliens and to Raechel. All that information, and what happened to Raechel, all came out after Marissa’s mom underwent extensive hypnotic regressions from a respected therapist. In addition, there were numerous witnesses to various things that supported this story. As unbelievable as it all seemed initially, I tend to believe that this account is extremely possible.
history and connection to aliens and to Raechel. All that information, and what happened to Raechel, all came out after Marissa’s mom underwent extensive hypnotic regressions from a respected therapist. In addition, there were numerous witnesses to various things that supported this story. As unbelievable as it all seemed initially, I tend to believe that this account is extremely possible.
June 5, 2020
Awesome read
This book fills in a lot of unanswered questions we’ve had about our governments involvement with ET’s. It’s very disturbing information but not at all surprising. Our Uncle Sam is not only deeply involved with other life forms but has allowed those entities to do work on us against our will or knowledge. Talk about Constitutional violations and deep state actors, this doesn’t even tell the half. Also, I strongly suspect this might explain some of the random gun murder suicides plaguing our society. God only knows (and a few others).
This book fills in a lot of unanswered questions we’ve had about our governments involvement with ET’s. It’s very disturbing information but not at all surprising. Our Uncle Sam is not only deeply involved with other life forms but has allowed those entities to do work on us against our will or knowledge. Talk about Constitutional violations and deep state actors, this doesn’t even tell the half. Also, I strongly suspect this might explain some of the random gun murder suicides plaguing our society. God only knows (and a few others).
August 16, 2019
Truth stranger than fiction...?
This is an example of a genre that I might call "naive literature." The term is not necessarily derogative or dismissive. Think of it as akin to the "primitive" in the arts in which we find a great artist at work who is innocent of some of the developments in technique such as perspective or depth perception. Henri Rousseau can be seen as an example of such a deliberate artist.
Or this book can be compared to an officially unacknowledged genre in the book business. Call it "fictional nonfiction"; that is, a book is produced in which the author writes an account of a strange event or series of events that he or she swears actually happened. In other words, a novel or story presented as nonfiction. A famous example is Communion: A True Story (1987), originally published by William Morrow and then brought out in paperback by Avon Books. Communion, which famously (or infamously, depending on your point of view) became a New York Times bestseller is a first-person account of an alien encounter written by novelist Whitley Strieber. Hailed as "Convincing!" (and more) in many reviews, Communion was a compelling narrative allegedly transformed from the writer's personal journal. It was only some years after the fact that Strieber confessed that the events were essentially fictional.
Here in Raechel's Eyes we have not only an alien encounter of truly astonishing dimensions, but in Part II we have a series of hypnotic regressions purporting to support the events in Part I. Helen Littrell is hypnotically regressed by Dr. June Steiner, "a graduate of The Institute of Transpersonal Psychology and The American Institute of Hypnosis." There are some interviews with others, including Helen's husband and her daughter Marisa. One thing is clear: there is not the slightest chance that Helen Littrell (no relation, by the way) will someday tell us she made this all up. She is entirely sincere.
Of course, I am sincere too, and have my doubts about the authenticity of her experience, or at least about her interpretation of her experience. However, I have no interest in debunking the regression or questioning the veracity of Helen Littrell's memories. Certainly her story is compelling and engaging. I don't even want to question the authenticity of anything in this book. What I want to do is point to the phenomenon itself: to the very human need to transform ourselves from the limited human creatures that we are to something beyond. All the alien encounter stories that have flooded the market over the past five or six decades have but one thing driving them: that is, the expression of a desire to be more than human.
I believe that many years from now, our successors will look back on this time--from the middle of the twentieth century onward--and recognize the phenomenon of books like Raechel's Eyes as harbingers of our transformation. First there is the desire to be other than what we are, and then may come the reality. In my view this transformation will not come from a hybrid mating with aliens as this book would have it (although it may), but more likely we will meld with the artifacts of our culture, through both bioengineering and the development of machine intelligence, so that we become cyborgs, beings both biological and artificial.
Will Raechel's Eyes be picked up by, say, Avon Books and packaged toward bestsellerdom? It might, but there are some problems. First, I would say it needs to be cut by about half. I get a lot of books by well-meaning and even talented amateurs that suffer from the author's mistaken idea that every incident, every piece of dialogue, every gesture and nuance of expression, no matter how trivia, must be presented in order (I guess) to insure some kind of veracity. Raechel's Eyes is a splendid (if I may) example of the overwritten book. Yet, it may be that the power of Raechel's Eyes (I love the spelling of her name) lies in the very superfluity of authors' expression. Regardless, a good editor might cross out the excess verbiage and possibly transform the narrative into something that will capture the imagination of a substantial segment of the book-buying public. Certainly authors Helen Littrell (mother of Marisa, the blind girl who becomes Raechel's roommate) and freelancer Jean Bilodeaux, whose writing skills are evident, have put together a most interesting story that will appeal to many readers. The ending is striking and dramatically beautiful.
Nonetheless, let me cite one of the problems. While the authors admit that "Conversations are reconstructed" from Helen Littrell's memory, this admission is inadequate because not only has the dialogue been augmented to an astonishing degree, sometimes approaching clairvoyance, but even the inner thoughts of the characters are revealed. One is left with the sense that this is an imaginative novel masquerading as "THE STRANGE BUT TRUE CASE OF A HUMAN-ALIEN HYBRID" (to quote from the blurb on the cover).
One last point. There is an interesting subplot involving Helen's relationship with her abusive, alcoholic husband, and her intense desire to free herself from him. This desire is vividly expressed in these italicized thoughts from Helen on page 75: "Once we've parked, I'll ask him to get the beer...When he does this, I'll reach into my open purse and take out his police Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum, slip up behind him, put the barrel against his head and watch it explode. There's no way I can miss at point-blank range."
It might be concluded that Helen was in part driven toward the alien experience by her need to free herself from the dominance of this man she wanted to kill. Sometimes our minds find solace in escape, and that desire to escape sometimes wonderfully drives our imaginations.
On the other hand, perhaps all of this is literally true. You be the judge.
--Dennis Littrell, author of “The World Is Not as We Think It Is”
This is an example of a genre that I might call "naive literature." The term is not necessarily derogative or dismissive. Think of it as akin to the "primitive" in the arts in which we find a great artist at work who is innocent of some of the developments in technique such as perspective or depth perception. Henri Rousseau can be seen as an example of such a deliberate artist.
Or this book can be compared to an officially unacknowledged genre in the book business. Call it "fictional nonfiction"; that is, a book is produced in which the author writes an account of a strange event or series of events that he or she swears actually happened. In other words, a novel or story presented as nonfiction. A famous example is Communion: A True Story (1987), originally published by William Morrow and then brought out in paperback by Avon Books. Communion, which famously (or infamously, depending on your point of view) became a New York Times bestseller is a first-person account of an alien encounter written by novelist Whitley Strieber. Hailed as "Convincing!" (and more) in many reviews, Communion was a compelling narrative allegedly transformed from the writer's personal journal. It was only some years after the fact that Strieber confessed that the events were essentially fictional.
Here in Raechel's Eyes we have not only an alien encounter of truly astonishing dimensions, but in Part II we have a series of hypnotic regressions purporting to support the events in Part I. Helen Littrell is hypnotically regressed by Dr. June Steiner, "a graduate of The Institute of Transpersonal Psychology and The American Institute of Hypnosis." There are some interviews with others, including Helen's husband and her daughter Marisa. One thing is clear: there is not the slightest chance that Helen Littrell (no relation, by the way) will someday tell us she made this all up. She is entirely sincere.
Of course, I am sincere too, and have my doubts about the authenticity of her experience, or at least about her interpretation of her experience. However, I have no interest in debunking the regression or questioning the veracity of Helen Littrell's memories. Certainly her story is compelling and engaging. I don't even want to question the authenticity of anything in this book. What I want to do is point to the phenomenon itself: to the very human need to transform ourselves from the limited human creatures that we are to something beyond. All the alien encounter stories that have flooded the market over the past five or six decades have but one thing driving them: that is, the expression of a desire to be more than human.
I believe that many years from now, our successors will look back on this time--from the middle of the twentieth century onward--and recognize the phenomenon of books like Raechel's Eyes as harbingers of our transformation. First there is the desire to be other than what we are, and then may come the reality. In my view this transformation will not come from a hybrid mating with aliens as this book would have it (although it may), but more likely we will meld with the artifacts of our culture, through both bioengineering and the development of machine intelligence, so that we become cyborgs, beings both biological and artificial.
Will Raechel's Eyes be picked up by, say, Avon Books and packaged toward bestsellerdom? It might, but there are some problems. First, I would say it needs to be cut by about half. I get a lot of books by well-meaning and even talented amateurs that suffer from the author's mistaken idea that every incident, every piece of dialogue, every gesture and nuance of expression, no matter how trivia, must be presented in order (I guess) to insure some kind of veracity. Raechel's Eyes is a splendid (if I may) example of the overwritten book. Yet, it may be that the power of Raechel's Eyes (I love the spelling of her name) lies in the very superfluity of authors' expression. Regardless, a good editor might cross out the excess verbiage and possibly transform the narrative into something that will capture the imagination of a substantial segment of the book-buying public. Certainly authors Helen Littrell (mother of Marisa, the blind girl who becomes Raechel's roommate) and freelancer Jean Bilodeaux, whose writing skills are evident, have put together a most interesting story that will appeal to many readers. The ending is striking and dramatically beautiful.
Nonetheless, let me cite one of the problems. While the authors admit that "Conversations are reconstructed" from Helen Littrell's memory, this admission is inadequate because not only has the dialogue been augmented to an astonishing degree, sometimes approaching clairvoyance, but even the inner thoughts of the characters are revealed. One is left with the sense that this is an imaginative novel masquerading as "THE STRANGE BUT TRUE CASE OF A HUMAN-ALIEN HYBRID" (to quote from the blurb on the cover).
One last point. There is an interesting subplot involving Helen's relationship with her abusive, alcoholic husband, and her intense desire to free herself from him. This desire is vividly expressed in these italicized thoughts from Helen on page 75: "Once we've parked, I'll ask him to get the beer...When he does this, I'll reach into my open purse and take out his police Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum, slip up behind him, put the barrel against his head and watch it explode. There's no way I can miss at point-blank range."
It might be concluded that Helen was in part driven toward the alien experience by her need to free herself from the dominance of this man she wanted to kill. Sometimes our minds find solace in escape, and that desire to escape sometimes wonderfully drives our imaginations.
On the other hand, perhaps all of this is literally true. You be the judge.
--Dennis Littrell, author of “The World Is Not as We Think It Is”
August 26, 2021
Since when has hypnotic regression been labeled as "non-fiction"? The entirety of this book comes from the mind of this woman, Helen Littrell, as she was put under deep hypnosis and asked questions about her past. There is no proof, no evidence other than the information we get from these sessions and we are asked to believe her answers are real and truthful. It's outrageous! Hypnotic regression is not a reliable source of factual information and for all anyone knows, is most likely imagination, based on suggestions the hypnotist provides.
This is an interesting and exciting read, but for this to be labeled a "true" story requires a very large leap of faith, and not one I'm willing to make as the reader. I really don't think this tale should be construed as evidence of extra-terrestrials or presented as a witness account of alien activity in the US or as proof of programs the US government has created for these supposed beings. It is an interesting read, perhaps worth reading simply for that value. But this story cannot be taken as anymore than an interesting study of hypnotic regression as far as non-fiction value goes.
Read for yourself and decide what you think, but this reader is not impressed.
This is an interesting and exciting read, but for this to be labeled a "true" story requires a very large leap of faith, and not one I'm willing to make as the reader. I really don't think this tale should be construed as evidence of extra-terrestrials or presented as a witness account of alien activity in the US or as proof of programs the US government has created for these supposed beings. It is an interesting read, perhaps worth reading simply for that value. But this story cannot be taken as anymore than an interesting study of hypnotic regression as far as non-fiction value goes.
Read for yourself and decide what you think, but this reader is not impressed.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 4, 2015
Fascinating book.
April 25, 2019
Excellent excellent read ! I loved this a must read for all ages !
January 29, 2026
I was predisposed to like this book. I watch Gaia and I believe in UFOs and aliens on earth. So wow, assuming this is all true, as it claims to be, this is some crazy story. I loved how it described a secret base somewhere near Ely NV that acts as a consulate for alien spaceships arriving here for whatever purpose. And all that secret stuff going on below ground. There is more to heaven and earth than we know. Well SOMEBODY knows and I want them to tell us. This book will stick in my head forever.
December 30, 2022
I have been looking forward to reading this book for years but to be honest, I am a little disappointed in it as for me, it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be… I found the initial story too fictional sounding with a lot of added speculation. The rest of the book written as regression manuscript didn’t leave me convinced one way or another. I’m on the fence with this one.
May 13, 2023
WOW
This book really blew my mind. Partly good partly not so good.I don’t know what’s going on but this is some weird stuff.
My thought is they are not our friends and they use us for their needs. I say no way not for me.
All of it is so wrong. And our Government how they lie and cheat us.
God our Lord Jesus help us……
This book really blew my mind. Partly good partly not so good.I don’t know what’s going on but this is some weird stuff.
My thought is they are not our friends and they use us for their needs. I say no way not for me.
All of it is so wrong. And our Government how they lie and cheat us.
God our Lord Jesus help us……
May 8, 2023
I got recommended this book via #ufotwitter one night, its a fun story.
May 21, 2023
an eye opening read
Very good read for the open minded, hypnosis is so cool and so powerful at tapping into knowledge that can be blocked in so many ways.
Very good read for the open minded, hypnosis is so cool and so powerful at tapping into knowledge that can be blocked in so many ways.
Read
October 21, 2023Unreadable. Marking it ' read ' so I don't forget I've already looked at it.
November 20, 2017
A fascinating story which shares many features of stories told by whistleblowers and other insiders who have been involved in Unacknowledged Special Access (Black) Projects (USAP's). For example, the fact presented in the book, that Raechel's official records at the University had been scrubbed clean and yet individuals were interviewed and did corroborate her attendance at school and her apparent disabilities and her odd behaviors. One has to pause and think about a secret government project with unlimited funds and with access to Men in Black who enforce security when outside in the world away from the secret underground labs.
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