Sacre Bleu by Christopher Moore

The latest and in my opinion, best satyrical comedy of Christopher Moore {The Stupidest Angel 2004}, also {Bite Me 2010} [San Francisco is being stalked by a huge shaved vampyre cat named Chet, and only I, Abby Normal, emergency backup mistress of the Greater Bay Area night, and my manga-haired love monkey, Foo Dog, stand between the ravenous monster and a bloody massacre]

Yes, Moore has raised the bar to a level higher than his past works as can be clearly seen by the cover art at the left, discretely downplaying his model’s sumptuous hind-quarters and instead focussing on the Eiffel Tower, 1889, and the fascinating visage of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec {circa Eiffel Tower}.

With this book, we have a serious novel, almost a murder mystery, and one that at times spans the ages, trying to pin a dastardly crime on the devious mastermind, Colorman.  Colorman has seduced artists through the ages, but finally, here at the peak of French cultural, political, and artistic prominence, the confluence of brilliant impressionist artists may be able to solve the greatest artistic mystery of the ages; defeating Colorman; and recapturing true blue.

Some might argue that Christopher Moore has penned a legitimate art history book chronicalling the critically important last two decades of the nineteenth century.  Unfortunately, there will always be those that stick their noses up at all the boisterous boozing and wanton whore-mongering, with no Christian consideration for those artistically influenced by opium and alcohol addiction, with their later-life health issues of syphyllis, gout, and liver & kidney failure.  Fortunately, most died young, both Christians and artists.

It one way, this is a series of loosely connected vignettes, focussed on specific impressionist paintings.  You know those jokes in The New Yorker, where the readership is supposed to fill in the joke tag-lines.?  In Moore’s case here, the picture is the painting; the lines are already stated as a simple description of the picture.  Moore’s filler is the back story to how we got to the tag line.  It’s an interesting exercise.  Maybe in another way, it’s like Dave Barry’s recent book, “Lunatics,” where he and Alan Zweibel toss the plotline back and forth to challenge each other in getting to more and more outrageous situations.

Reminds me of Hugh Laurie

There was “take-away” art history from the book.  This book wasn’t intended as a film script outline [a fun book – but a stupid film].  By being serially disconnected, you can jump in and out of this book at will, and randomly, which to me means it’s lightweight and entertaining.

Moore is actually a Californian, I think.  Well, anyway, he’s as irreverant as only Dr. House can be.