Book Review - The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror

I'm so happy I found Christopher Moore. I picked up his book Fluke: Or, I know Why the Winged Whale Sings in one of my Border's binges last year and absolutely fell in love with his style. His characters are quirky and his plots fanciful. I'd put him somewhere between Elmore Leonard and Carl Hiassen.

The Stupidest Angel is a surreal tale built around the apparent accidental death of Santa, a town Christmas party, zombies and the incompetent Archangel Raziel. The characters include a former Xena-type actress who's gone off her rocker (and her drugs), a pot growing and smoking lawman and a talking, Rayban-wearing bat. There are also some pretty funny conversations by the dead and graphic violence (funny, graphic violence).

If you like offbeat material, Moore's your guy.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I have to agree with you about "The Stupidest Angel." Definately quirky and odd. I love how so many bizzare stories are knit together. It was made more surreal for me by the fact that I read it at Disneyworld...the land of zombies, people avoiding their meds and dumb angels. What else explains the vapid princess?
I also read "Fluke" but the best of Christopher Moore I believe is "Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal." Ever wondered what Jesus did to pass the years between 13 and 33? Wonder no more. I'm such a sucker for fictional books with the Virgin Mary as a character. I'm reading one now, as a matter of fact. Moore doesn't disappoint when it comes to Mary or the rest of the biblical gang. The angel Gabriel plays an important roll here also, as does Dan Brown's favorite whipping gal--Mary Magdelaine. I love books that turn entire stories on their heads by weaving in all the main elements of a story but in an entirely different way, changing the meaning completely. This book reminds me of "Wicked," which I was strongly recommending long before it made it to Broadway.
7:52 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

TV At Its Finest

I was talking to someone today who didn’t know who Bob Newhart was. I cut him some slack because he’s a youngster and didn’t grow up in the U.S. I told him about The Bob Newhart show and how it became a college drinking game and about Newhart, "Hi, I'm Larry; this is my brother Darryl, and this is my other brother Darryl." He was going to go to Wikipedia and do some research. The conversation got me thinking. Back in the day (like when dinosaurs were alive and I was young and there were only four channels on TV), we caught a lot of reruns of what are now considered classic TV. Especially, if you were a latchkey kid like I was, there wasn’t a lot going on in the afternoon/early evening so it was either soap operas or reruns unless you were allowed to be outside and play. And, of course, during summer vacation you had even more time to watch the boob tube. Here’s what I remember watching during those years: Gilligan’s Island, Big Valley (I’m still looking for my very own N
Read more

This Is How Fat Thinks

I was in Vegas over the weekend and Thursday night found me sitting at the bar in Margaritaville with some friends. We were having some drinks, talking to strangers and watching both the baseball and football games. All was well with the world. Out of nowhere, a young (20s?) guy came up behind me and snapped a selfie with me in it. He moved away before I could even get out "What was that about?" Less than 30 seconds later, another young guy came up and did the same. He also bounded away before I could stop him. My very first thought was that they were doing a photo scavenger hunt and one of the items was a picture with the fattest woman they found. Hell, could even have been the fattest person they saw if I let my mind take it further. Now, assuming a scavenger hunt, there are other reasons they could have wanted a picture of me. Maybe they needed a ginger, maybe it was someone with their hair in braids, maybe it was someone in the brightest colored shirt they could fin
Read more