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expendablemudge 's review for:
The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove
by Christopher Moore
Rating: 3.5* of five
The Publisher Says: The town psychiatrist has decided to switch everybody in Pine Cove, California, from their normal antidepressants to placebos, so naturally—well, to be accurate, artificially—business is booming at the local blues bar. Trouble is, those lonely slide-guitar notes have also attracted a colossal sea beast named Steve with, shall we say, a thing for explosive oil tanker trucks. Suddenly, morose Pine Cove turns libidinous and is hit by a mysterious crime wave, and a beleaguered constable has to fight off his own gonzo appetites to find out what's wrong and what, if anything, to do about it.
My Review: Am I too old for this humor to make me do more than chuckle quietly and without conviction? Has my curmudgeonly mask become my face?
I'd say an instant yes and move on, light of heart and wreathed in smiles, were it not for this:
Yep.
So up from the Mount of Despairing Good-Enough books! Yay, right? Um. I think, though, it's past time to take a flensing knife and cut to the heart of the Moore Mystique.
Let me know what y'all find. I ain't got so much as a sniff at a clue. Why does Good-Enough transmogrify into sales and gales of laughter?! Quick, someone post an excuse for laughing above the level a work deserves, I'm afraid my face will freeze this way!
The Publisher Says: The town psychiatrist has decided to switch everybody in Pine Cove, California, from their normal antidepressants to placebos, so naturally—well, to be accurate, artificially—business is booming at the local blues bar. Trouble is, those lonely slide-guitar notes have also attracted a colossal sea beast named Steve with, shall we say, a thing for explosive oil tanker trucks. Suddenly, morose Pine Cove turns libidinous and is hit by a mysterious crime wave, and a beleaguered constable has to fight off his own gonzo appetites to find out what's wrong and what, if anything, to do about it.
My Review: Am I too old for this humor to make me do more than chuckle quietly and without conviction? Has my curmudgeonly mask become my face?
I'd say an instant yes and move on, light of heart and wreathed in smiles, were it not for this:
I think there was always some scrawny dreamer sitting at the edge of the firelight, who had the ability to imagine dangers, to look into the future in his imagination and see possibilities, and therefore survived to pass his genes on to the next generation.
Yep.
So up from the Mount of Despairing Good-Enough books! Yay, right? Um. I think, though, it's past time to take a flensing knife and cut to the heart of the Moore Mystique.
Let me know what y'all find. I ain't got so much as a sniff at a clue. Why does Good-Enough transmogrify into sales and gales of laughter?! Quick, someone post an excuse for laughing above the level a work deserves, I'm afraid my face will freeze this way!