The city of 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 of the general public. Whoa. And this is a love story? Yup. 'Cept there's no whining. See, while some lovers were born to run, Jody and Tommy were born to bite. Well, reborn, that is, now that they're vampires. Good thing theirs is an undying love, since their Goth Girl Friday, Abby Normal, imprisoned them in a bronze statue.

Travis was born in 1900, yet he has not aged since 1919, because he accidentally called up a demon from hell named Catch as his servant, presumably forever. Ever since then, Travis has been trying to get rid of Catch, but is unable to do so because he has lost the repository of the necessary incantations. He traces their whereabouts to a fictional town called Pine Cove, along Big Sur coast, where he thinks the woman he gave them to may be residing. Interactions with the townspeople and with a djinn, who is pursuing Catch, create considerable complications.

This is an accelerating comedy with shadows setting off the wry, polished humor. Trickster deities thrive on contrariety, which is why one finds them bringing life into dead landscapes and disorder into order. A Santa Barbara insurance salesman's too-tidily-contained lifestyle, far from the Crow reservation he grew up on, is an irresistible target for Coyote, who wants to make sure his chosen people don't forget him. Coyote descends on Sam Hunter like one of Job's plagues, albeit a charmingly disingenuous one. "Why me? Why not someone who believes?" asks Sam, suffering from god-induced chaos. "This is more fun," says Coyote. He's right.

Here's something different: a vampire novel that's light, funny, and not at all hackneyed. Between scenes of punks bowling frozen turkeys on the graveyard shift in a supermarket, or snapping turtles loose in a loft and gnawing on designer shoes, this novel has comic charm to spare. But it also packs an appealingly downbeat message about the consumer culture: Becoming a vampire has given the twentysomething heroine "a crampless case of rattlesnake PMS"--a grumpy mood in which she realizes that she can dress to the nines as a "Donner Party Barbie" and still end up disillusioned and unhappy, just another slacker doing her own laundry and watching sucky TV 'til the sun rises.

Pilot Tucker Case has a weakness--well, Tuck really has two--and the combination of drinking and sex in the cockpit of the pink Mary Jean Cosmetics Learjet puts him on the front page of papers all over the planet. But he finds another job with a mysterious employer--someone with a brand-new Lear 45-- who's willing to pay Tuck generously and ask no questions about his record. The jet and job are on Alualu, a speck in the Pacific Ocean, and Tucker has nowhere else to go. But first he has to get to Alualu, and once there, he faces a hurricane, Shark People, atypical missionaries, and boredom ... and the responsibilities assigned to him by Capt. Vincent Bennidetti, U.S. Air Force, deceased bomber pilot and present-day deity of the Shark People. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

With in-your-face, South Park-worthy humor that only once slips into the truly offensive, Moore has written the definitive Prozac allegory. Like its Puff-the-Libidinous-Dragon protagonist Steve, this novel delightfully runs roughshod over trailer parks, scrip-happy psychiatrists, right-wing moralists and "nuked-out future movie" stars with laugh-aloud wit and gentle affection. Pine Cove is a Pacific coast town of 5000Aa third of whom Dr. Valerie Riordan has rendered dependent on antidepressants. When obsessive-compulsive Bess Leander is found hanged from a calico cloth rope, a possible suicide, Val fears she has been overmedicating, and she blackmails fish-fetishist pharmacist Winston Krauss into giving all antidepressant users placebos instead.

In his entertaining adventure-in-whale-researching, Fluke, or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings, Nathan Quinn, a prominent marine biologist, has been conducting studies in Hawaii for years trying to unravel the secret of why humpback whales sing. During a typical day of data gathering, Nate believes his mind is failing: the subject whale has "Bite Me" scrawled across its tail. Events become even stranger as the self-proclaimed "action nerds," Nate, photographer Clay, their research assistant Amy, and Kona, a white Rasta, encounter sabotage to their data and equipment. They also observe increasingly bizarre whale behavior, including a phone call from the whale to their wealthy sponsor to ask that Nate bring it a hot pastrami and Swiss on rye, and discover both a thriving underwater city and the secret to what happened to Amelia Earhart.

It's certainly original. Even the harshest critic can't begrudge Christopher Moore his vivid imagination, satirical plots, and humor. Like a good sleight-of-hand artist, Moore builds up a huge reserve of goodwill to pull off his most demanding trick yet: laughing at death. The already-strained boundaries of his previous work (Lamb, an alternate history of Jesus's life; Bloodsucking Fiends, a vampire love story; and The Stupidest Angel, concerning the resurrection of Santa Claus) stretch even further to produce this tale that critics praise for its "improbable humor" (New York Times) and courage in "embracing what we fear" (Washington Post).

In You Suck, Christopher Moore returns to the characters who made him famous nearly a decade earlier in his absurdist vampire tale Bloodsucking Fiends. Young newbie vampire couple Jody and C. Thomas Flood are still in the Bay Area, trying to move out of town after imprisoning the 800 year-old-vampire Elijah Ben Sapir in a bronze cast to keep him out of the way. The Animals from Thomas's old stockboy days are still causing trouble, this time with a Vegas call girl of expensive tastes whose skin is dyed blue.

Here's the Cliff Notes you wished you'd had for King Lear-the mad royal, his devious daughters, rhyming ghosts and a castle full of hot intrigue-in a cheeky and ribald romp that both channels and chides the Bard and all Fate's bastards. It's 1288, and the king's fool, Pocket, and his dimwit apprentice, Drool, set out to clean up the mess Lear has made of his kingdom, his family and his fortune-only to discover the truth about their own heritage. There's more murder, mayhem, mistaken identities and scene changes than you can remember, but bestselling Moore (You Suck) turns things on their head with an edgy 21st-century perspective that makes the story line as sharp, surly and slick as a game of Grand Theft Auto.