Sublime Catharsis

The Reviews

By  S. H. Pearson

In Mark Glenn’s stirring What I Saw That Day, one is swept-up in Phillip Tourney’s sublime catharsis — a long time coming.  The slicing keel of Glenn’s writing is absorbing, engrossing and fluid.  Pages turn unbeknown to the reader as Tourney’s Navy life comes roaring over the gunwales.

What one devours in this book is war at sea that can only be told by a man who lived it —  a story that unleashes the long-muzzled visceral.  Adventure on the high seas has never been served to me like this.  Errol Flynn’s dash and vim can’t match it.  The Golden Age of Jewish Hollywood can’t touch it.

Tourney opens an artery, fire hose-fat.  And Glenn crafts it into What I Saw That Day, gripping tragedy, lashing outrage, strafing strike fighters, blood-on-the-decks.  You can smell the adrenaline.  Hear the screams bouncing off the bulkheads.  This is not a drill, sailor.  Real life never is.

In this read you will find no slow spots.  Every word counts.  Like Mark Twain wrote, “When you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”  Just open the flood-gate.

The pages in this book fly like the U.S. Navy jets that should have flown, but never came that day.  Thank you, Mr. McNamara, for your strike fighter support to our besieged LIBERTY.  Where the hell were ya?


Note:  Prior to publication, I questioned both author and autobiographer about a comment on page 218 of Glenn’s manuscript.  Having been asked to read and proof the manuscript, I felt compelled to share my feeling about an irrelevant comment that has no place in U.S. History.  The comment issued from the textual voice of P. Tourney who had no personal stake in making it.  I was shocked that the author went to press with this unethical comment.  And herein express my disapproval.





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