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I’m afraid Christopher Moore may be slipping. I started Fluke, or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings last night, and I didn’t get my first good belly-laugh until page seven. By Moore’s standards, that’s like not finding any magic in a Harry Potter novel until chapter twelve!

To be fair, though, I did also find this lovely passage on page 27:

“It says here that you last worked as a forensic calligrapher. What’s that, handwriting analysis?”

“Uh, no, actually, it was a business I started where I would write people’s suicide notes for them…it didn’t do that well. No one wants to kill himself in Hawaii. I think if I’d started it back in New Jersey, or maybe Portland, it would have gone over really well. You now business: location, location, location.”

“I thought that was real estate.”

I had to put the book down for five minutes at that point. Those of you who haven’t read Moore, well, what’s stopping you?

(UPDATE: I got to the passage that Matt mentions in the comments. Oh, my God….what a mental image….)

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