Christopher Moore, one of my very-most-favorite writers, has a new book out:
I’ve talked about Moore before; I think he’s just awesome. Clever, funny, brilliantly creative. He sits in a weird gray area, part horror, part sci-fi, part humorous fiction. Weird, fucked up things happen in his books. Demons and vampires, talking fruit-bats, invisible trickster gods and Jesus’ boyhood pal Biff. I can’t possibly explain all this you need to go read for yourself.
But anyway, this new one, I have guardedly high hopes for. Moore’s last two were weak; Fluke was just stupid, after a brilliant beginning it crashed into a wall (His first serious misfire). The one after it, Stupidest Angel, was back on better territory but had a phoned-in, re-tread sort of feel to it.
But Dirty Job, even though it borrows the theme almost exactly from Piers Anthony’s On a Pale Horse, has the advantage of being written by Moore.
I’m only a couple chapters into it, but he’s already tossed off a hysterically dead-on portrait of a teenage goth-girl (Mmm, my favorite flavor), laugh-out-loud funny. I’m hoping that by working new territory that’s closer to home but not quite re-tread, he’ll get back on track. I hate watching great writers run off the rails, it always pisses me off.
I also have to admire the cover. The pic doesn’t do it justice, but it’s just brilliant.