Rating: 4/5

Three-Word Summary: Bumbling grim reaper

On the Grand Author Spectrum (which is something I just made up), Christopher Moore sits somewhere between H.P. Lovecraft and Carl Hiaasen.

He somehow deftly infuses dark, bizarre, macabre story lines with buffoonish, every man humor. If only there was a word for that.

A Dirty Job is just the latest (and one of the best) examples of this style which Moore has mastered. It’s about a Beta Male named Charlie Asher who lives in San Francisco and just found out that he’s death.

Not The Death. Just a death. A soul collector, tasked with ushering spirits from one recently deceased body to their next host. Only to find out that Forces of Evil are out to steal souls so that they can Rise Again and Conquer the World.

If it sounds strange, that’s because it is. That’s just Moore for you.

Not everything in the plot makes sense. Because it doesn’t have to. He’s allowed to be creepy and edgy and a bit out of control because that’s the world he’s created. His style is borderline absurd, but that’s what makes it so wonderful.

Keep in mind that much of his characters appear in several of his other novels. Much like Hiaasen, Moore has created a mini fictional universe (Hiaasen’s in Miami and Moore in Frisco).

There is continuity across many of his books, although you can miss it and still enjoy each individual installment. I’ve read several of his works and still don’t understand everything.

Still, his writing style is loose, but funny. Some of the characters were a tad underdeveloped, while other characters were down right uncanny.

My biggest criticism was how quickly (and inexplicably) the climax was resolved. It was a bit of a burst bubble, but that may be because he was setting up for the book’s yet-unreleased sequel: Secondhand Souls.