This book is so bad it makes me never want to read anything ever again. The writing is at the level of an only mildly witty third grader, the plot is clunky, to say the least, the jokes unfunny, the horror un-horrendous, and the end feeling is one of distance, complacency. If Harris's taste for olla podria really had kicked in, we might have a cultural curio on our hands. Instead what we have is a mean, insulting, biggoted, racist, homophobic book that might as well have been written by a computer. Word is that Harris has been writing HANNIBAL for the last ten years. Hey, come on, Tommy, more like TEN DAYS! The best thing about this book is the acknowledgements page, which reads like Nancy Drew on acid. Next time, Tommy Harris, maybe you can write your own book, do your own research, your own cooking. Oh, and the second best thing about this book is that, at least for now, it won't be made into a movie. But then again, if it is, the movie will be infinitely better.