I am sort of a sucker for good snark. And I've been bemoaning the similarities of much of the fantasy I've been reading recently. So this book came around at exactly the right time, and quite enchanted me. It's not the deepest book in the world, but it was thoroughly fun and diverting, and I look forward to reading more in the series.
O'Sullivan is a Druid. Not just a druid, but one who has survived for
more than 2000 years, mostly by hiding out from the Tuatha de Danaan,
who are still very much alive and kicking, and still as likely to kill
you as look at you. Particularly if you piss them off. At all. Minor
offenses are not a concept that really enter into the equation.
he lives in Arizona, far away from the Fae, and the gods of Celtic
mythology. One of them has been hunting for him for millennia. A couple
of the goddesses might be on his side, but they are definitely working
their own agendas. O'Sullivan runs a magic shop, has a werewolf and a
vampire as his lawyers, and keeps himself and his bodily fluids far, far
away from witches. As you can tell, this book is populated with any
number of mythological or supernatural beings. Most of them nasty, all
of them deadly.
Magic in this book is serious shit, and quick
and potentially mortal. But the main character has a delightful
irreverence towards mortal and immortal alike, and the turns of phrase
ticked my funnybone.
There isn't a deeper meaning to this book,
no deeper themes to explore or expound upon. It was just fun, and felt
different, and again, the snark.