Sacre Bleu, by Christopher Moore

This is not your typical Christopher Moore book, which is usually filled with vulgar hilarity. This is basically a murder mystery with one hell of a twist, and displays Moore's heretofore unseen (by me) authorial diversity. Using characters drawn from 1890s Montmartre - the artists' enclave of Paris - Moore starts with the murder of Vincent van Gogh, and things get weird from there. Moore's portrayal of Henri Toulouse-Lautrec is the closest he gets to the tone of previous novels, which is to say that he's hilarious and charming and ribald. It took me a bit to get into the book since I was expecting Moore's usual, but once I got used to the different voice, I was hooked and read it in two days. The idea is, as all of Moore's are, highly original and delightful, and once I got used to the writing, it was delightful as well and impressive to boot. As always, I greatly look forward to reading more of Moore's work.


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