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It's not easy reading a Jasper Fforde fantasy/mystery/adventure novel; it's harder still to review one. I don't imagine too many readers are neutral about this unique and silly reference-filled series. The more you know about English literature, the better, I suppose; I always assume I've missed at least half of the jokes, and even then I'm in constant giggles. In this case, by page 5, I had already guffawed loudly over a reference that included one of my favorite lines in modern film. And I don't guffaw a lot.
In this story, Thursday Next is still dealing with having a new baby, her son Friday, by Landen Park-Laine who, at this time, does not exist. That's being worked on, but it's rather disconcerting as he flits in and out of reality; one moment Thursday is wearing her wedding ring, and the next moment it's gone. She's back working for Jurisfiction after hiding out for a time in a fictional universe and is trying to keep up with the chaos created by bad guy Yorrick Kaine. While she battles Kaine's schemes to destroy all things Danish, (it's his way of stirring up trouble and a means of creating someone to hate), her brother is pitching in with the reappearance of St. Zvlkx, (and no, I don't know how that's pronounced) whose "revealments" seem to indicate that the outcome of the Superhoop, the croquet championship, could mean the end of the world as we know it. The Neanderthals are a great help here --- they're excellent croquet players, even if they don't get the idea of competition.
Are you lost yet? Is this your first Jasper Fforde? Well, who can blame you? This is a world where people can move in and out of literature and, at times, change it. Here, this means that Hamlet is wandering about --- Thursday is introducing him as her cousin Eddie. This is a world where mammoths are back, and they migrate --- quite the scene. Eating your fair share of toast is mandatory. And time is very elastic.
If you've ever laughed at Terry Pratchett, try SOMETHING ROTTEN. If you've read the wildly creative Christopher Moore with pleasure, read Fforde. He excels at terrible (read wonderful) puns, some of which, as I say, this American reader didn't catch. He offers silly side stories --- Lady Emma Hamilton and Hamlet? Really? --- and an alternative universe of corporations gone wild, where books matter more than most other things. Sadly, though, it appears that Fforde, while not through by any means, has wrapped up the amazing adventures of Thursday Next. I'll miss her. And her dodo Pickwick, of whom I'm quite fond. And her creative, brilliant and eccentric uncle Mycroft --- you may know him from some books by a guy named Arthur Conan Doyle (long story).
Oh, and did you know that there was a Mr. Tiggy-Winkle? I mean, it stands to reason, but I don't think Beatrix Potter ever got around to mentioning the husband of her hedgehog character. Go figure.
--- Reviewed by Andi Shechter
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