I enjoyed Lamb, which is also by Christopher Moore, so when my book club selected this book I thought it would be a good read. However, I was bored by the entire story. Now, mind you, my first degree is in Art History so I thought it would be interesting to see the various artists portrayed in a work of historical fiction. Alas, I had to buy a cup of coffee to finish the last 100 pages. The book starts with Vincent Van Gogh's apparent suicide. But was it really a suicide? That is what fellow artists Lucien Lessard and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec try to discover. Along the way, we discover that there is a supernatural duo that is leading painters to go mad, lose huge chunks of their memories, and forget about masterpieces they have created. There is a lot of time jumping in the story. Within one chapter you may be reading about 19th century France and then you're back in 12th century France. That was a little annoying, but I dealt with it. What really became old quickly were all the sexual and phallic jokes. Listen, I was in 6th grade around 1988-89 and I got my fill of prepubescent humor. One or two jokes, whatever, but an entire book throughout which one guy uses the word penis as his punch line? I'll pass, and you should too.
