The Creeps, John Connolly

Connolly writes supernatural horror, most of the time. This latest installment in the adventures of Samuel Johnson, his beloved pup Boswell, and their friends (some of whom are not human but stay with me here) had me laughing out loud and reading some passages to my husband. These books are funny, smart, the footnotes are killer and showcase Connolly’s wicked sense of humour and his scientific knowledge.

Things have calmed down in the little village of Biddlecombe, sort of. Samuel is going out with the wrong girl, and he knows it. The only odd thing is the wandering statue of a long dead architect. But evil’s heart is beating in the depths of Biddlecombe’s abandoned toy shop and on opening night all hell’s going to break loose, again. Samuel and his friends are in a battle to save the multiverse from something even worse than the depths of hell.

A mapcap mash-up of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett with plenty of Monty Pythonesque humour thrown in. Horror has never been so much fun.