When it ended, I was living in a sewer. Downward mobility being a danger to my kind.
Should be a punchline for something. Vampyre in a sewer.
But it’s not.
It’s my life.
In case you missed my last Joe Pitt review, let me get you up to speed. Joe Pitt is a Vampyre. He lives, or lived in Manhattan. He played all sides against one another to keep his autonomy.
Until he lost it.
And his girl.
And an eye.
And then things got really bad.
When we last saw Joe, he was living in the sewers hiding out from the Coalition, the yuppies Vamps, and the Society, the hippie Vamps.
Hiding and biding his time.
Enter Chubby Freeze, pornographer, Joe Pitt ally and worried father.
It seems his daughter has delusions of Anne Rice and has gotten herself knocked up by her own personal Lestat. She’s bounced around Manhattan’s various Vampyre factions looking for the one that will treat her and her unborn child like the nobility she believes herself to be.
Needless to say, everyone had their own ideas of how to use the girl and the child.
That Chubby says Joe’s estranged girlfriend, Evie, sent him doesn’t hurt.
So Joe returns to Manhattan and the bodies begin to hit the floor.
Charlie Huston is my favorite writer working today. He writes pulpy noir that hits you in the gut and keeps you turning the pages. There is an impending sense of doom on every page of this book. It only grows as Joe lays a trail of carnage through faction after faction on his way to his possible salvation.
No, no spoilers. READ THE DAMN BOOK!
But be warned. This isn’t Lestat and this most definitely isn’t Twilight.
Joe Pitt is a tough guy and a badass first and a vampyre second.
He’d laugh at Edward and then put a bullet right between his eyes.
My Dead Body closes out the Joe Pitt casebooks in style. Joe does what he does bet. He orchestrates mayhem and chaos to his own ends.
I can’t recommend My Dead Body enough. It helps to read the other four books in the series first, of course, Start with Already Dead, the first in the series.
You can thank me later.
So long Joe Pitt. It was a helluva ride.
I think we all owe Anne Rice a debt of gratitude for making vampires gay. Or at the very least, emo.
Loved the Joe Pitt books. No brooding. Just killin’.