“Had anyone bothered to listen to his theory about the devil, the dead not dying, Santa Claus, his elves, and a penguin, they would have eventually found out that he was right on the money.”



Our author, Mr. Buckley, thanks his parents for giving birth to him in England where, as he tells it, “...the sense of humor is far more ridiculous than anywhere else in the world.” Indeed, there’s no other accounting that I can see for the frolic contained inside the pages this wonderful book. I shouldn’t s

“Had anyone bothered to listen to his theory about the devil, the dead not dying, Santa Claus, his elves, and a penguin, they would have eventually found out that he was right on the money.”Our author, Mr. Buckley, thanks his parents for giving birth to him in England where, as he tells it, “...the sense of humor is far more ridiculous than anywhere else in the world.” Indeed, there’s no other accounting that I can see for the frolic contained inside the pages this wonderful book. I shouldn’t say it—oh, all right then, I shall—Monty Python comes to mind, and the merry plot lines of that standard British comedy fare. No one expects the Spanish Inquisition. Likewise, to launch the book, no one expects the professor’s ‘barefaced cheek’ to take such a nasty turn, as students wait with bated breath to hear his latest theory: ‘Global public nudity?’ Yes, ahem, among other equally audacious schemes that seem well within reasoned consideration for the soon to be scorned professor.Ah, but wait! As the story evolves we meet Fuzzbucket the cat/devil; Nigel being the devoted private eye even while dangling by his ankles, courtesy of Big Ernie; Celina the Scottish siren who eventually wins the heart of…sorry, ya’ gotta read that part; and many others— Chester, Dr. Ranja whose wife ‘stepped out for milk’ two weeks before; Cedric in animal control; Gerald the penguin; the law firm of Chatham, Chithum and Chump, and on and on.Here’s the thing: People have stopped dying. The Devil is more than a little perplexed at this, and as one might imagine the morticians are annoyed beyond sense. They go on strike, and who can blame them? Majestic Technologies has been up to some sort of unsavory business, a project to reboot Santa Claus, using lemons no less to generate electricity. Again, ya’ gotta read what Santa Claus is rebooted as. He ain’t the jolly old fellow you think, ho-ho-ho.Buckley’s writing is past snark and into whimsically funny. Celina’s Scottish father is ‘busy having a heart attack’ and the fighting McManiss clan lives among the ‘nervous sheep.’ Rupert the cabbie stays occupied spinning tales about his vast collection of hotel soaps, while delivering our characters to their appointed rounds, stopping long enough only to relieve himself and write his name on walls. Lawrence is born ‘without a sense of humour.’ Referring to Santa and his minions, it is ‘customary for elves passing lemons along,’ etc. etc.Back to the story: Fuzzbucket/Devil is under contract for a very short spell on earth, and Death is close behind, though a bit lost with no clientele. Our Goldfish, Jeremiah, is fascinated with the castle in his little bowl, while wholly unimpressed at his innate ability to transmit complex computer code telepathically. Nigel and Celina have a plan to disrupt the end-times scenario, as a clock ticks down, raising the suspense at every turn of the page. Alas, the explosion that erases Majestic Technologies leaves our little band… Well, enough of this, curl up with a shaker or two of lemon juice and prepare to be entertained. This sort of fiction works when it makes a reader question the writer’s stability, and I must say, if this work is any indication, Buckley may have been into the mushrooms, but his whimsical tale works very well indeed.Technical issues in the book are few. Chapter 12 is a tad strong on italics, which makes it difficult to read. There are many, many colorful characters, perhaps too many to keep track of. Buckley’s strong suit is creating characters. That said, he may wish to flesh them out a bit, give them quirks and an outline, or at least where they shop for socks.All in all a greatly satisfying romp of a book, with a wholly unpredictable ending and the thing every fictional work ought to have these days, material enough left over for a sequel. This one has more than enough, plus directions for the Macarena. Read it; you’ll laugh, a lot.Byron Edgington, author of The Sky Behind Me: A Memoir of Flying & Life