I need to introduce you to my friend Matt. Okay, so he’s not my friend, he’s an author whose books I enjoy, but still…you need to get to know him, if you don’t already. For googling purposes, his full name is Matt Ruff.
I first met Matt one day when I was walking around in Borders. I saw a book with a bright yellow cover—and what seemed from a distance to be a Darth Vader helmet, though upon closer inspection it was a monkey—and I picked it up, read it over, put it back down and walked away. It wasn’t that the book didn’t interest me; it just wasn’t what I was in the mood to start reading that day. As often happened back in the day of the actual book store, I spent a good hour walking around picking up books, reading the back covers, sampling the first pages and moving on to see what else might strike my fancy.
I kept coming back to the Matt Ruff book. I sampled it like an old woman in a grocery store inspecting the fruit. I remember not liking the shape of the book (yes, I’m THAT picky). It was a trade paperback, but it was narrower that I felt it should have been. And who was this Matt Ruff guy? I’d never heard of him before.
In the end though, I came back one final time and after an hour of searching and not finding what I was in the mood to read, the numerous re-reads of the back cover and first few pages of Ruff’s book Bad Monkeys finally convinced me to pull the trigger and take it home with me.
It didn’t take very long at all before I found myself very much in the mood to his book though. To say it hooked me is a vast understatement. Bad Monkeys is a fast paced, smart, witty and fun read. It’s one of those rare books that keeps jerking you back and forth, constantly diverting your attention until you can no longer tell which cup the red ball is hiding underneath.
The next time I read a Matt Ruff book was approximately 30 minutes after I finished Bad Monkeys. If immediately driving to the book store to find another book by an author doesn’t tell you all you need to know about how much I liked the first book of his I read then—well, you’re stupid. Stop it.
I was skeptical about the second book. It had a few words in the title that no man wants to read and never wants to be seen holding. I dreaded the question, “So, what are you reading?” Fortunately though, Set This House In Order, A Romance of Souls was my second Matt Ruff book. I wouldn’t have chosen it if my book store had had another of his books in stock, but like the way Bad Monkeys kept calling me back, this books seemed destined to find it’s way into my hands as well. Once again, I was very much surprised and pleased.
The thing about Matt Ruff that you can’t help but enjoy is the complexity of his stories and his characters while neither ever actually overwhelms the reader. There are lots of complex characters but after a while you lose them or worse, you lose your personal connection to them because they are inaccessible to you. And complex plots—well, nothing fails bigger than a complex plot gone wrong. So often, an author obviously writes a story with a complex plot without first outlining it and the result is that they wind up getting lost somewhere in the middle and then rush to conclude it in the end, in a way that leaves you feeling dissatisfied.
Matt Ruff’s books, conversely, read like a season of LOST, only with a more satisfying finish. He doesn’t try to outfox his readers. He’s confident enough in his storytelling that he wants you to get it all. He wants you see every clue and every red herring and then he turns it all in ways you didn’t think of and always seem like a surprise when you read them. He keeps you on your toes, but more importantly, he keeps you involved. He doesn’t inundate you with information to hide his clues. He says, look, here’s a clue! You make the logical conclusion about where it will go, and then he proves you wrong.
***
When I heard the premise of Ruff’s latest book, I was, once again, skeptical. It had been some time since I’d read his books and while I remembered his ability to turn a story on it’s ear, something about the premise of the new book just made me think it wasn’t going to work. Predictably, in my experience with Matt Ruff books by now, I was wrong.
The Mirage is his latest title. It almost defies explanation. In an alternate reality, the United States does not exist; worse, we are a backward, third world grouping of countries. Christian Fundamentalists, in opposition to the constant involvement of the United Arab States—a world Superpower—in the affairs of their world, hijack four airliners on 11/9 and crash them into twin towers in Bagdad, another into a government building and, of course, the final airliner was taken back by it’s passengers before crashing.
The UAS has no choice but to declare a War on Terror. Rumors of Weapons of Mass Destructions in North America cannot be ignored.
The story revolves around three UAS Homeland Security Agents. In the course of their duties, they break up a terrorist plot and arrest one of its conspirators. Before the prisoner is disappeared into one of the secret prisons, he tells the investigators of The Mirage.
The Mirage, he explains, is the wool that’s been pulled over the eyes of the world. Everything is backwards. The USA is the world Superpower. The Arab states are backwater, third world countries. It was Muslim Fundamentalists who started a War of Terror against America.
The agents, obviously, think their prisoner is delusional, but they find an artifact amongst the prisoner’s things: A newspaper called the New York Times, printed on 9/12, a day after airliners were flown into two twin towers there.
Obviously, a fake; but Homeland Security must stay up to date on these terrorist myths so the investigation goes on, and when more artifacts begin showing up they raise question after question without an intelligent answer. Could The Mirage be true?
This book ties history into knots and then slowly untangles them again. In typical Matt Ruff fashion, up is often down, left is often right and the lines between good and bad, altruistic and evil get brilliantly blurred.
Along the way, you’ll meet alternate versions of characters you already know: Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, Tariq Aziz, Donald Rumsfeld, “The Quail Hunter,” Timothy McVeigh, David Koresh and a father and son with the same name—one called H, the other W.
The most interesting of these characters is Osama bin Laden. It is said only about him and repeatedly so that, “an evil prince in one world is an evil prince in any world.” Though, by a continuation of that logic it can, of course, be said of all the “real world” characters we meet, which greatly indicts “The Quail Hunter,” and Mr. Rumsfeld.
Since finishing this book I’ve read some criticism that it doesn’t take sides. What’s given to you isn’t the work of an author with an agenda. He’s not telling you what to think. He’s asking you to think about it in a different way that you previously had. And in that, I find the criticism unfounded. Not all books are meant to tell you what to think—or to even tell you what the writer thinks. Some books are simply written to make you think. The conclusions are left for you to draw on your own. The implications are such that it leaves many different interpretations. Ruff isn’t interested in telling anyone that they are wrong. He isn’t interested in telling anyone that he is right. He very simply retells history in a way that makes you walk a mile in a different pair of shoes. How you feel about the information when it’s presented in a new way is up to you.
It was an ambitious undertaking and one that could have gone wrong in so many different ways. Ruff’s skilled writing and storytelling skills, along with what must have been exhaustive and extensive research culminate in an extremely well written, interesting and thought-provoking book. And like Luke Skywalker in the cave on Dagobah, what waits inside is only what you bring with you. Your weapons…you will not need them. What you face inside is yourself and if you’re honest and true, you just might come away with a different point of view.
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Monday, March 26, 2012
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The First Person Narrative Crisis
For almost a year now, I’ve had the pleasure of reviewing books for both The Sacramento Book Review and the San Francisco Book Review and as is the case with a book reviews, the subject has been newly released books. While I’ve always tried to pay attention to newly released literature, prior to doing these reviews, I often skipped around, reading classics and recommendations from others mixed in with anything new I might find.
Reading almost all new releases now I’ve begun to notice quite a few of the trends in the publishing industry, some good and some bad. The most obvious ones, however, are the bad trends and perhaps the absolute worst trend of them all seems to be one of the most prevalent.
I’m speaking of the rash of first person narratives where the main character is a very thinly veiled view of what the author wishes he or she could be. These writers create characters that are practically superhero in nature. Oh, they have flaws of course but they are the kind of flaws you might tell a prospective interviewer in a job interview. I work too hard! I’m too conscientious. Dammit, I just care too much!
Aside from those “weaknesses” the character is virtually without blemish. They are almost never the supermodel type or the movie hunk because the writer cannot make that connection to themselves honestly. Instead, they are the kind of average that seemingly no person of the opposite sex can resist. Sure, he’s got a beer belly, but the most beautiful woman in every room is somehow drawn to him like a moth to a flame. No, you won’t find her in the pages of Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition but every man wants her and every woman wants to be like her.
Novel after novel comes out reading like bad fan fiction and instead of slowing down, it seems to be gaining steam. This can only mean one thing: You people are buying it! There’s always been a place in the world for trashy literature. There’s nothing wrong with it. We all have our guilty pleasure reads but at least there used to be some standards involved in even trash lit. No more!
I recently reviewed a book where it seemed like not a single page went by where the author didn’t remind us that her main character (who is not her, she’ll swear to it I’m sure) was beautiful, smart, funny, tougher than the guys, wanted by everyone, admired by all and the perfect woman. This writer was so busy trying to convince her audience of the character’s divinity that she completely forgot to include a plot, or a single other character in the book who was more than one-dimensional. It was like the book itself was background on a stage somewhere, meant only to add color to solitary performer giving a soliloquy.
It was the worst of all of these self-indulgent personal fantasies I’ve read to date and the sad part is that the writer has already written two follow up books. Its going to be a series! But that shouldn’t surprise me. The very first book I reviewed for the papers was about a chubby guy who worked as an accountant and became the greatest monster hunter of all time—and of course got the girl as well. The next book in that series is due out any time. At least this particular author thought to include a little plot along with the self-glorification of his alter-ego.
Just like the Twilight saga made frumpy girls cool, these books, one after another, relentlessly expose us to characters whose flaws are actually good qualities that most people aren’t bright enough to see. Those picked last for dodge ball in gym class and those who didn’t get asked to prom are armed with keyboards, no talent and something to prove and the result are these stories where the characters have no arc and the plot exists only to serve the glorification of the main character.
And it’s only getting worse. More talented writers are being skipped over to fuel this trend where hacks with issues get published. I say enough! If you want to work your issues out then find a shrink and pay by the hour like the rest of the world, don’t subject me to your delusions of grandeur. Shame on the publishers for putting this crap out there and shame on you, most of all, for continuing to read it. As long as copies keep flying off the shelves they’ll keep printing more and more of this compost. It’s time to stand up to these sad people. Demand multiple characters with depth and arc throughout the story. Demand a plot that serves more than as scenery for the writer’s self-glorification. Demand some quality in your books, even the trashy ones.
If you don’t, soon enough, self-indulgent, self-serving books like these that exist to build the writer’s self-esteem will be all that’s left to read. I’m not exaggerating. With each month, more and more of these books hit the shelves and they will continue to do so until you say no.
Reading almost all new releases now I’ve begun to notice quite a few of the trends in the publishing industry, some good and some bad. The most obvious ones, however, are the bad trends and perhaps the absolute worst trend of them all seems to be one of the most prevalent.
I’m speaking of the rash of first person narratives where the main character is a very thinly veiled view of what the author wishes he or she could be. These writers create characters that are practically superhero in nature. Oh, they have flaws of course but they are the kind of flaws you might tell a prospective interviewer in a job interview. I work too hard! I’m too conscientious. Dammit, I just care too much!
Aside from those “weaknesses” the character is virtually without blemish. They are almost never the supermodel type or the movie hunk because the writer cannot make that connection to themselves honestly. Instead, they are the kind of average that seemingly no person of the opposite sex can resist. Sure, he’s got a beer belly, but the most beautiful woman in every room is somehow drawn to him like a moth to a flame. No, you won’t find her in the pages of Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition but every man wants her and every woman wants to be like her.
Novel after novel comes out reading like bad fan fiction and instead of slowing down, it seems to be gaining steam. This can only mean one thing: You people are buying it! There’s always been a place in the world for trashy literature. There’s nothing wrong with it. We all have our guilty pleasure reads but at least there used to be some standards involved in even trash lit. No more!
I recently reviewed a book where it seemed like not a single page went by where the author didn’t remind us that her main character (who is not her, she’ll swear to it I’m sure) was beautiful, smart, funny, tougher than the guys, wanted by everyone, admired by all and the perfect woman. This writer was so busy trying to convince her audience of the character’s divinity that she completely forgot to include a plot, or a single other character in the book who was more than one-dimensional. It was like the book itself was background on a stage somewhere, meant only to add color to solitary performer giving a soliloquy.
It was the worst of all of these self-indulgent personal fantasies I’ve read to date and the sad part is that the writer has already written two follow up books. Its going to be a series! But that shouldn’t surprise me. The very first book I reviewed for the papers was about a chubby guy who worked as an accountant and became the greatest monster hunter of all time—and of course got the girl as well. The next book in that series is due out any time. At least this particular author thought to include a little plot along with the self-glorification of his alter-ego.
Just like the Twilight saga made frumpy girls cool, these books, one after another, relentlessly expose us to characters whose flaws are actually good qualities that most people aren’t bright enough to see. Those picked last for dodge ball in gym class and those who didn’t get asked to prom are armed with keyboards, no talent and something to prove and the result are these stories where the characters have no arc and the plot exists only to serve the glorification of the main character.
And it’s only getting worse. More talented writers are being skipped over to fuel this trend where hacks with issues get published. I say enough! If you want to work your issues out then find a shrink and pay by the hour like the rest of the world, don’t subject me to your delusions of grandeur. Shame on the publishers for putting this crap out there and shame on you, most of all, for continuing to read it. As long as copies keep flying off the shelves they’ll keep printing more and more of this compost. It’s time to stand up to these sad people. Demand multiple characters with depth and arc throughout the story. Demand a plot that serves more than as scenery for the writer’s self-glorification. Demand some quality in your books, even the trashy ones.
If you don’t, soon enough, self-indulgent, self-serving books like these that exist to build the writer’s self-esteem will be all that’s left to read. I’m not exaggerating. With each month, more and more of these books hit the shelves and they will continue to do so until you say no.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Sacramento Book Review
Okay, for those of you who may be interested, I'm going to be doing some freelance book reviews for the Sacramento Book Review and the San Francisco Book Review. My first two reviews appeared in the September issues. Here are links to the reviews on the website:
A Princess of Landover by Terry Brooks
Monster Hunter International by Larry Correia
Enjoy!
A Princess of Landover by Terry Brooks
Monster Hunter International by Larry Correia
Enjoy!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Literary Profiling
I just left Borders a few moments ago and I was the victim, once again, of Literary Profiling. It’s starting to piss me off. And I’ll state right here at the outset that I’ve received this treatment at Barnes & Noble as well, so its not a matter of the store I choose. It’s a matter of these book-Nazis assuming that certain types of people buy certain types of books.
I took a look in the mirror when I got home. I had pretty standard apparel on for me:
Navy Blue Baseball Hat, Duke University
Navy Blue Fleece Pullover
Navy Blue w/white side stripe Nike warm-up pants
Navy Blue Crocs, Chicago Cubs Logo
Various undergarments (none of which are Navy blue!)
Granted, I look more prepared for the gym than I do the bookstore, but that’s no excuse for Literary Profiling. But that’s exactly what happens when I walk into a book store. They see me walking through the new releases and tell me, very politely, that they have some great new books in the Sports section in back.
It’s almost like they don’t want the smart-looking people to see me browsing the books up front. Apparently, they think I’m some kind of smart-person scarecrow.
“Oh look, the Neanderthal wanna-be jock guy is looking at the jacket of that book, it must have pictures and small words! I won’t even bother picking it up.”
When I go into the Sci-Fi/Fantasy section, they assume I’ve gotten lost. Apparently, I don’t look like a guy who can appreciate a story about Elves and magic. And so:
“Excuse me Sir, can I help you find something? Are you looking for a gift?” Why must I be shopping for a gift? Why can’t I enjoy wizards and witches and magical swords? Huh?
Well, lately it’s been much, much worse for me. I’m not normally someone who reads the classics. I much prefer contemporary works to the oldies, but for the past few months, I’ve been on a Kurt Vonnegut kick. I’ve gone through almost his entire library of works, with only a few left to go.
Granted, it’s the beginning of Christmas shopping season now, so its not uncommon for the register person to ask I need a gift receipt, but this has been going on since this summer and they aren’t just asking if I need a gift receipt, they ASSUME I need one!
Here are some of the various things that have been said to me after plopping down one of Vonnegut’s books at the register:
“Oh, do you have a Vonnegut fan in your family?” Yes. Me.
“Are you buying this for a special someone?” Yes. Me.
“Oh, look, Siren’s of Titan, one of my favorites! You know it’s not your typical science fiction right?” Yes. I do.
“Breakfast of Champions! You know it’s not about the cereal!” [ha, ha, ha!] Really? I thought it was a recipe book!
Do I have the word DUH written on my forehead? Is it impossible for someone who dresses like I do to enjoy dark humor and scathing wit? And let’s face it folks, anyone who’s ever read Vonnegut knows that it’s not tough reading. A middle-school kid could get quite a bit of Vonnegut and would have no trouble reading him.
So, what’s with these elitist, book-nerds who don’t want to let me play in any reindeer games? I bet if I came in wearing a half-tucked shirt, dark-rimmed glasses and mismatched socks they’d be nice to me! Do I really have to nerd it up in order to have a peaceful shopping experience? Do I really need to dress the part so that I won’t be met with incredulity when I reach the cashier?
I’m a dork. I’m proud of the fact that I’m a dork, but I don’t have to dress like a dork do I? Aren’t the Cubs Crocs enough proof of my dorkdom? Do I really need to push the envelope farther than that in order to gain your respect bookstore people?
So, no. I don’t need help finding my way back to the Sports books section and I’m not interested in the new NASCAR picture book you recently got in for the Holidays. Yes, I’m actually buying this deep and intellectual book for me. Hooked on Phonics not only worked on me, but it created a miracle! Jesus hisownself, of water to wine and rising from the dead fame has nothing on athlete-wannabe guy who learned to enjoy books of substance!
I just want to do my book shopping in peace. I like being in bookstores. I like grabbing a cup of coffee and wandering aimlessly in my comfy clothes for an hour or two, just reading the jackets of various books and picking one or two to take home with me. I like being left alone while I wander through the Psychology section and the Writing section and the Classics section. It’s not a jungle. Navigation, even for a Neanderthal like me, isn’t that difficult. The HUGE signs hanging all over the place letting me know what section is where are extremely helpful and do a wonderful job all on their own.
So, in the future, book store people, just smile and assume I’m exactly where I want to be in your store. Assume that I’m buying these books for myself and that I’m a big boy who can understand all of the big words and big thoughts inside them. And please, just stop it with the Literary Profiling.
I took a look in the mirror when I got home. I had pretty standard apparel on for me:
Navy Blue Baseball Hat, Duke University
Navy Blue Fleece Pullover
Navy Blue w/white side stripe Nike warm-up pants
Navy Blue Crocs, Chicago Cubs Logo
Various undergarments (none of which are Navy blue!)
Granted, I look more prepared for the gym than I do the bookstore, but that’s no excuse for Literary Profiling. But that’s exactly what happens when I walk into a book store. They see me walking through the new releases and tell me, very politely, that they have some great new books in the Sports section in back.
It’s almost like they don’t want the smart-looking people to see me browsing the books up front. Apparently, they think I’m some kind of smart-person scarecrow.
“Oh look, the Neanderthal wanna-be jock guy is looking at the jacket of that book, it must have pictures and small words! I won’t even bother picking it up.”
When I go into the Sci-Fi/Fantasy section, they assume I’ve gotten lost. Apparently, I don’t look like a guy who can appreciate a story about Elves and magic. And so:
“Excuse me Sir, can I help you find something? Are you looking for a gift?” Why must I be shopping for a gift? Why can’t I enjoy wizards and witches and magical swords? Huh?
Well, lately it’s been much, much worse for me. I’m not normally someone who reads the classics. I much prefer contemporary works to the oldies, but for the past few months, I’ve been on a Kurt Vonnegut kick. I’ve gone through almost his entire library of works, with only a few left to go.
Granted, it’s the beginning of Christmas shopping season now, so its not uncommon for the register person to ask I need a gift receipt, but this has been going on since this summer and they aren’t just asking if I need a gift receipt, they ASSUME I need one!
Here are some of the various things that have been said to me after plopping down one of Vonnegut’s books at the register:
“Oh, do you have a Vonnegut fan in your family?” Yes. Me.
“Are you buying this for a special someone?” Yes. Me.
“Oh, look, Siren’s of Titan, one of my favorites! You know it’s not your typical science fiction right?” Yes. I do.
“Breakfast of Champions! You know it’s not about the cereal!” [ha, ha, ha!] Really? I thought it was a recipe book!
Do I have the word DUH written on my forehead? Is it impossible for someone who dresses like I do to enjoy dark humor and scathing wit? And let’s face it folks, anyone who’s ever read Vonnegut knows that it’s not tough reading. A middle-school kid could get quite a bit of Vonnegut and would have no trouble reading him.
So, what’s with these elitist, book-nerds who don’t want to let me play in any reindeer games? I bet if I came in wearing a half-tucked shirt, dark-rimmed glasses and mismatched socks they’d be nice to me! Do I really have to nerd it up in order to have a peaceful shopping experience? Do I really need to dress the part so that I won’t be met with incredulity when I reach the cashier?
I’m a dork. I’m proud of the fact that I’m a dork, but I don’t have to dress like a dork do I? Aren’t the Cubs Crocs enough proof of my dorkdom? Do I really need to push the envelope farther than that in order to gain your respect bookstore people?
So, no. I don’t need help finding my way back to the Sports books section and I’m not interested in the new NASCAR picture book you recently got in for the Holidays. Yes, I’m actually buying this deep and intellectual book for me. Hooked on Phonics not only worked on me, but it created a miracle! Jesus hisownself, of water to wine and rising from the dead fame has nothing on athlete-wannabe guy who learned to enjoy books of substance!
I just want to do my book shopping in peace. I like being in bookstores. I like grabbing a cup of coffee and wandering aimlessly in my comfy clothes for an hour or two, just reading the jackets of various books and picking one or two to take home with me. I like being left alone while I wander through the Psychology section and the Writing section and the Classics section. It’s not a jungle. Navigation, even for a Neanderthal like me, isn’t that difficult. The HUGE signs hanging all over the place letting me know what section is where are extremely helpful and do a wonderful job all on their own.
So, in the future, book store people, just smile and assume I’m exactly where I want to be in your store. Assume that I’m buying these books for myself and that I’m a big boy who can understand all of the big words and big thoughts inside them. And please, just stop it with the Literary Profiling.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Bad Monkeys by Matt Ruff
It’s been a while since I’ve written a book review and the truth of the matter is that I’ve read some good books, like The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson, the Genesis of Shannara Trilogy by Terry Brooks, Choke and Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk (as well as Snuff which wasn’t as good), but today I finished a book that I really enjoyed and have nothing better to write about, so book review time it is!
Bad Monkeys by Matt Ruff is simply excellent and if you have the chance, run—don’t walk—to your local library or book store and get this book at once! I’m not even sure where to begin in trying to describe this book, but Ruff does a nice job of sucking you in and keeping you interested in the narrative of his main character Jane Charlotte who is telling the story of her life to a disbelieving psychiatrist.
At an early age, Jane, an admitted hybrid between Nancy Drew and the spawn of satan, allows her penchant for trouble and her inquisitive nature to put her into the crosshairs of a lunatic serial killer. She survives with the aid of a secret organization that fights for the triumph of good over evil and is eventually recruited into this organization to help eliminate the “bad monkeys” of the world.
I’d do you an injustice if I told you much more than this, but trust me when I tell you that a twisty, turn-filled, action packed, fun ride ensues from there. If you’re paying very close attention from the outset, perhaps you’ll see the twists as their coming, but if you just let it soak you in, this book will keep you on the edge of your seat and leave you shaking your head.
It’s a contemporary fantasy, centered on an any-woman kind of character who gets caught up in a fantastical world that lies beneath the surface of our own world. A contemporary study of good versus evil that is clever, witty and robust, this book is well worth the read. If you don’t believe me, then look on the back cover—it’s endorsed by Christopher Moore for crying out loud! You just can’t go wrong if we both say its good, can you? I didn’t think so. Happy reading.
Bad Monkeys by Matt Ruff is simply excellent and if you have the chance, run—don’t walk—to your local library or book store and get this book at once! I’m not even sure where to begin in trying to describe this book, but Ruff does a nice job of sucking you in and keeping you interested in the narrative of his main character Jane Charlotte who is telling the story of her life to a disbelieving psychiatrist.
At an early age, Jane, an admitted hybrid between Nancy Drew and the spawn of satan, allows her penchant for trouble and her inquisitive nature to put her into the crosshairs of a lunatic serial killer. She survives with the aid of a secret organization that fights for the triumph of good over evil and is eventually recruited into this organization to help eliminate the “bad monkeys” of the world.
I’d do you an injustice if I told you much more than this, but trust me when I tell you that a twisty, turn-filled, action packed, fun ride ensues from there. If you’re paying very close attention from the outset, perhaps you’ll see the twists as their coming, but if you just let it soak you in, this book will keep you on the edge of your seat and leave you shaking your head.
It’s a contemporary fantasy, centered on an any-woman kind of character who gets caught up in a fantastical world that lies beneath the surface of our own world. A contemporary study of good versus evil that is clever, witty and robust, this book is well worth the read. If you don’t believe me, then look on the back cover—it’s endorsed by Christopher Moore for crying out loud! You just can’t go wrong if we both say its good, can you? I didn’t think so. Happy reading.
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