Told in Christopher Moore’s usual irreverent, unashamedly off-kilter (probably stoned), style, The Serpent of Venice is a snortingly hilarious read.
Okay, Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice and Othello are melded together with Poe’s The Cask of Amontillado in some strange three-way that brings forth a deformed and demented lovechild. When you add in Pocket, the fool-king from Dog Snogging, Drool, his apprentice, and Jeff, the hat bonking monkey from Moore’s previous novel, Fool, mayhem, chaos, and dragon shagging ensue.
And heinous f–kery, most foul. We mustn’t leave out the heinous f–kery.
Oh, and a ghost. Because, as they say, there’s always a bloody ghost.
I wonder if Moore is planning on mutilating anymore of Shakespeare’s plays? I’m thinking The Tempest, and, maybe, Twelfth Night, given how this one ended. Unless, of course, he plans on moving on to Marlowe and picking apart Tamerlane. Maybe even all three and something I, being, unfortunately, sober at the moment, haven’t thought of yet.
I’ll admit, I didn’t enjoy The Serpent of Venice as much as I did Fool, but it was still a raucously funny, not to mention raunchy, good time.
Rating: 4.25 out of 5 stars