Volume two of the travails of Samuel Johnson, his dachshund Boswell, and the unfortunate citizens of sleepy little Biddlecombe town who are faced with the impending invasion of the Great Malevolence – Old Nick himself and all his hellish myrmidons.
Judging humour written for the young is best left to the young. Anyway, I'll have a go. The comic characters are funny in a slapstick, clownish way. The villains, if it is proper to describe Satan and Baal as being merely villainous, are as threatening as Captain Hook, though admittedly there are tentacles, claws and spewing hellfire with which young Samuel has to contend. There is also the far more ominous Void, the absence of all things, which very nearly consumes Samuel and Boswell in a gentle suffocation of nothingness. Even describing it makes it sound a little more adult than the rest of the book. Also on the edge of adultness are Old Ram and the Blacksmith. Old Ram sits there as a figure from ancient folklore tormenting the living trees that are already the tormented souls of evil sinners only to find that he is not without sin and suffers torture himself. The Blacksmith on the other hand, a despicable arms dealer when he was living, finds the value of repentance through helping Samuel escape capture. The dwarfs – swilling Spiggitt's Old Peculiar - the police officers, Dan Dan the Ice Cream Man – a character who barely comes to life – Mrs Abernathy and Nurd provide most of the laughs and a lot of the jokes work.
As I began reading the footnotes, something that Jonathan Stroud used to greater effect in the Bartimaeus books, I was thrown back to the adolescent literature of an earlier time when authors padded out their tales, usually either historical or military, with long explanatory paragraphs taken from encyclopedias. Our hero, sweat stained and scarred after many trials, reaches the walls of Byzantium and stands amazed. Now, I'll just stop the story there for a while and give you a short history of the city and its place in the ancient world. And then on with the adventure after the tiresome lesson is done. So many of Mr Connolly's footnotes seemed to serve a similar annoying purpose.
All told the book was OK. However, it was never written for an old Fool with a memory littered with witty one-liners, end of the pier smut, Goon Show and Monty Python surrealism, Christmas cracker banality, pantomime, farce, Carry On films, sarcasm and satire. No, it was written for a person young enough to find slipping on a banana skin outrageously hilarious and unexpected, a person young enough to be surprised by a well travelled punch line. For me it was ordinary. For the chosen market it is probably replete with rib-tickling belly laughs. Three stars from me, I would guess five from the average 12 year old.