I’ve read quite a few Christopher Moore books, but my favorite has to be Practical Demonkeeping, which I first read — no joke — probably 20 years ago. A Dirty Job was pretty good, but mostly made me want to reread Practical Demonkeeping, which apparently has sequels that I’ve never heard of and must get my hands on now!
If you’re familiar with Christopher Moore, then the plot of this one won’t surprise you: our protagonist, Beta Male Charlie, accidentally becomes a master of death after witnessing another one take his wife. He begins seeing souls in various objects, and after a few missteps, figures out his place in the grand scheme of collecting and delivering these souls after a death.
But the best part of any Moore book doesn’t have much to do with plot — it’s the narration. His descriptions of peoples’ thoughts and actions routinely crack me up, even as his plots meander around and fail to make any sense or come to a real conclusion. But the rest of the book reads like this:
“Charlie had Sophie strapped to his chest like a terrorist baby bomb when he came down the back steps. She had just gotten to the point where she could hold up her head, so he had strapped her in face-out so she could look around. The way her arms and legs waved around as Charlie walked, she looked as if she was skydiving and using a skinny nerd as a parachute.”
or
“One Monday, just for sport, Charlie grabbed an eggplant that a spectacularly wizened granny was going for, but instead of twisting it out of his hand with some mystic kung fu move as he expected, she looked him in the eye and shook her head – just a jog, barely perceptible really – it might have been a tic, but it was the most eloquent of gestures. Charlie read it as saying: O White Devil, you do not want to purloin that purple fruit, for I have four thousand years of ancestors and civilization on you; my grandparents built the railroads and dug the silver mines, and my parents survived the earthquake, the fire, and a society that outlawed even being Chinese; I am mother to a dozen, grandmother to a hundred, and great-grandmother to a legion; I have birthed babies and washed the dead; I am history and suffering and wisdom; I am a Buddha and a dragon; so get your fucking hand off my eggplant before you lose it.”
The book is worth reading for that nonsense alone. The army of reanimated rodents is just a bonus. Now…where’s my copy of Practical Demonkeeping?
This was my first Christopher Moore, and it’s still my favorite (though, Lamb is probably his best).
I only vaguely recall it, but the large black character….Minty Fresh? I wanna say his name is Minty Fresh. Anyway, there’s a scene (and, I know I’m being really vague here) he…..runs into something. A door? I don’t recall. The point is, I laughed uproariously. In public. Surrounded by people.
So, I don’t remember precisely what happened – but I remember laughing like no one was watching. That’s a good feeling.
Minty Fresh! He definitely made me snort out loud a few times
A sequel to this just came out last year too – Secondhand Souls.
My favourite Moore will always be Lamb, but Fool comes in second (I can’t resist Shakespeare jokes). The sequel, The Serpent of Venice, was good, but I’m less familiar with that play, so I probably missed a bunch.