The town psychiatrist has decided to switch everybody in Pine Cove, California, from their normal antidepressants to placebos, so naturally-well, to be accurate, artificially-business is booming at the local blues bar. Trouble is, those lonely slide-guitar notes have also attracted a colossal sea beast named Steve with, shall we say, a thing for explosive oil tanker trucks. Suddenly, morose Pine Cove turns libidinous and is hit by a mysterious crime wave, and a beleaguered constable has to fight off his own gonzo appetites to find out what's wrong and what, if anything, to do about it.

Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove

A man of infinite jest, Pocket has been Lear's cherished fool for years, from the time the king's grown daughters - selfish, scheming Goneril, sadistic but hot Regan, and sweet, loyal Cordelia - were mere girls. So he can see trouble brewing when  Lear demands that his kids swear their undying love and devotion before a collection of assembled guests. Of course Goneril and Regan are only too happy to brownnose Dad. But Cordelia's blunt honesty ends up costing her her rightful share of the kingdom and earns her a banishment to boot. 
The only person who can possibly make things right is Pocket, who has already managed to sidestep catastrophe on numerous occasions, using his razor-sharp mind, rapier wit and the equally well-honed daggers he keeps conveniently hidden behind his back. He's going to have to do some very fancy maneuvering - cast some spells, incite a few assassinations, start a war or two (the usual stuff) - and shag every lusciously shaggable wench who's amenable along the way. Pocket may be a fool . . . but he's definitely not an idiot.

Fool

Ceci est un conte grivois. Vous y trouverez de la baise sans rime ni raison, des meurtres, des fessées, des mutilations, des trahisons, des sommets jusqu'ici inexplorés de grossièreté et de vulgarité, de même que des pratiques grammaticales non traditionnelles (voire incorrectes) et une petite branlette par-ci, par-là. Aimable lecteur, si tout cela t'incommode, passe ton chemin, car nous ne cherchons qu'à distraire et non point à choquer. Cela dit, si tu penses pouvoir y trouver ton compte, eh bien ce récit te conviendra à la perfection.

Fou !

Le lézard Lubrique de Melancholy Cove

Que sommes-nous de plus pour les dieux que des mouches importunes et lubriques qu'ils écrasent pour le plaisir ? Vaste question... que Sam Hunter, trente-cinq ans, parfait golden boy, n'avait pas eu à se poser avant que le Coyote ne débarque dans sa vie pour y semer la pagaille. Car l'animal en question n'est pas celui de Tex Avery (quoique), mais l'incarnation d'une divinité crow bien décidée à rendre infernal le quotidien de Sam. Pourquoi lui ? Dans quels buts ?... L'occasion, entre légendes indiennes et réalités yankees, d'une balade ravageuse à mourir de rire, et de peur parfois, au pays des mythes anciens et des machines à sous...

Un blues de coyote

1890. Vincent Van Gogh est assassiné à Auvers-sur-Oise par un mystérieux dealer de bleu, "l'Homme aux couleurs". Toulouse-Lautrec mène l'enquête. Il enrôle son ami Lucien Lessard, peintre-boulanger de la butte Montmartre. Mais Lucien n'a qu'une obsession : brosser le portrait de Juliette, muse magnétique, qui vient de lui offrir un tube de bleu très rare...De sa plume débridée, trempée à l'ultramarine, Christopher Moore signe une fabuleuse comédie qui revisite l'histoire et le Paris de l'impressionisme. Renoir, Pissaro, Toulouse-Lautrec, Monet, Manet, les frères Van Gogh, Gauguin sont victimes d'un piège qui n'est peut-être que celui de l'inspiration. Comment savoir ? Surtout lorsque la muse sort du cadre pour asséner de façon peu académique ses considérations sur l'art et la manière.Sacré Bleu dynamite tous les codes, du roman noir au rose, du livre d'art à la saga. Voici le premier roman bleu.

Sacré Bleu

L'agneau

In San Francisco, the souls of the dead are mysteriously disappearing-and you know that can't be good-in New York Times bestselling author Christopher Moore's delightfully funny sequel to A Dirty Job. Something really strange is happening in the City by the Bay. People are dying, but their souls are not being collected. Someone-or something-is stealing them and no one knows where they are going, or why, but it has something to do with that big orange bridge. Death Merchant Charlie Asher is just as flummoxed as everyone else. He's trapped in the body of a fourteen-inch-tall "meat puppet" waiting for his Buddhist nun girlfriend, Audrey, to find him a suitable new body to play host. To get to the bottom of this abomination, a motley crew of heroes will band together: the seven-foot-tall death merchant Minty Fresh; retired policeman turned bookseller Alphonse Rivera; the Emperor of San Francisco and his dogs, Bummer and Lazarus; and Lily, the former Goth girl. Now if only they can get little Sophie to stop babbling about the coming battle for the very soul of humankind .

Secondhand Souls - A Novel

"Readers new to the work of Christopher Moore will want to know two things immediately. First: Where has this guy been hiding? (Answer: In plain sight, since he has a cult following.).[H]e writes laid back fables straight out of Margaritaville, on the cusp of humor and science fiction."-Janet Maslin, New York Times Whale researcher Nathan Quinn has a problem. It's not a new problem; in fact, it's been around for nearly 20 million years. And Nate's spent most of his adult life working to solve it. You see, although everybody (well, almost everybody) knows that humpback whales sing (outside of human composition, the most complex songs on the planet) no one knows why. Nate, a Ph. D. in behavior biology, intends to discover the answer to this burning question-and soon. Every winter he and Clay Demolocus, his partner in the Maui Whale Research Foundation, ply the warm waters between the islands of Maui and Lanai, recording the eerily beautiful songs of the humpbacks and returning to their lab for electronic analysis. The trouble is, Nate's beginning to wonder if he hasn't spent just a little too much time in the sun. Either that, or he's losing his mind. Because today, as he was shooting an I. D. photo of a humpback tail fluke, Nate could've sworn he saw the words "Bite Me" scrawled across the whale's tail.

Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove

Résumé

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