The fact is I can’t do it all justice so I’ll just say this….I never read these books in public because I can’t help snorting out loud, sometimes bringing myself to tears of glee. How do you get across the pure joy of reading about a guy who becomes a soul collector because, if somebody doesn’t do it, the really bad guys will take over the world? Or that said soul collector is now himself dead but his own soul is trapped in a 14-inch high makeshift lunchmeat doll of sorts while his Buddhist nun girlfriend tries to figure out how to get him in a real body? For that matter, how to explain a 7-year-old who’s guarded by a pair of hellhounds named Alvin and Mohammed while she claims to have dominion over the Underworld? Now, the thing about Christopher Moore’s books is I find them nearly impossible to review, at least in the normal way. One of his titles- Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal-still holds a place in my top 5 favorite books 14 years after it came out. This author some might call crazy or just plain nuts turned out to be one of our bestsellers for his new titles and his backlist and I was right in there with our customers, devouring everything. I was sold and I hadn’t even read any of these books so I ordered for our shelves everything Moore had written up to that point and never stopped till the day we closed the shop. I’ve always been a pushover for eye-catching titles so I did a little rummaging around about this author, Christopher Moore, and found such wonders as Practical Demonkeeping, The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove and Bloodsucking Fiends. Way back in my bookselling days, I was perusing a catalogue one day when I came across a title that stopped me in my tracks- Island of the Sequined Love Nun. Now if only they can get little Sophie to stop babbling about the coming battle for the very soul of humankind. To get to the bottom of this abomination, a motley crew of heroes will band together: the seven-foot-tall death merchant Minty Fresh retired policeman turned bookseller Alphonse Rivera the Emperor of San Francisco and his dogs, Bummer and Lazarus and Lily, the former Goth girl.
He’s trapped in the body of a fourteen-inch-tall “meat puppet” waiting for his Buddhist nun girlfriend, Audrey, to find him a suitable new body to play host. Death Merchant Charlie Asher is just as flummoxed as everyone else.
Someone-or something-is stealing them and no one knows where they are going, or why, but it has something to do with that big orange bridge. People are dying, but their souls are not being collected. Something really strange is happening in the City by the Bay. In San Francisco, the souls of the dead are mysteriously disappearing-and you know that can’t be good-in New York Times bestselling author Christopher Moore’s delightfully funny sequel to A Dirty Job.
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