With One Lousy Free Packet of Seed
Is That A Pitchfork On Your Nipple?
Truss's debut novel is a corker. Witty, unexpected, raunchy, and populated with crazies: Truss packs in many good- and dark-humoured moments in this compact novel. This is a bit of a who-dunnit and a who-the-bloody-hell-knows-what's-going-on, mixed i
Truss's debut novel is a corker. Witty, unexpected, raunchy, and populated with crazies: Truss packs in many good- and dark-humoured moments in this compact novel. This is a bit of a who-dunnit and a who-the-bloody-hell-knows-what's-going-on, mixed into a solid dose of stodgy English excuse-me-but-there's-a-severed-hand-in-your-garden.
Easy reading, great word-play as usual from Truss, and no small amount of weirdness: like a sexual fantasy that includes scraping nipples with garden pitch forks while wearing rubber gardening gloves. Stuff like that.
This is ostensibly a story about a small gardening magazine's travails as it strives to survive in a fast changing and uncaring world. As the walls come down and the carpets are sold from under their feet, various employees do their incompetent best to save the magazine from going under, or their own jobs, or indeed, even help the process along, wittingly or unwittingly. Confusion and mistaken identity reign hilariously (even sometimes fatally) down on all.
As seems usual for Truss, her story ends happily for most, but in some rather unexpected ways. Again, like Truss's Going Loco, the reader is treated to plot devolvements and resolutions that are not at all predictable, but surprising and entertaining. Recommended for some high-brow, off-key, light leisure reading.