Alright, Bite Me: A Love Story by Christopher Moore is, for me, right now, unreadable. It's not released yet and you'd think my panties would be all wet for a new author who is adored by many's brand new book but they're not.
Maybe I'm being a stuck-up asshole. Maybe I just can't go from Kundera to Moore. I got 20ish pages in and just... couldn't go on. After I realized that "kayso" wasn't a person and simply stood for "okay, so..." I slapped myself in the forehead and decided to give it a hundr- no, fifty page shot. Then I got to page 20.
Here is a taster (I hope this is legal):
I know! Oh-my-fucking-god-ponies-in-the-barbeque! I know! It just goes to show you, like Lord Byron says in the poem: 'Given enough weed and explosives, even a creature of most sophisticated and ancient dark power can be undone by a few stoners.' I'm paraphrasing. It may have been Shelley.
So, that's page 13. And it is very. very. funny but in a very. mindless kind of way. I will attempt Lamb eventually.
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