Perhaps though when the third quarter starts having women in his circle as the titular beasts, followed by other human characters, then obviously Charlie himself, something is lost. You could suggest Giraldi didn't have the strength of his convictions - he could have thrown in a few more wacky adventures and monsters before hitting on black lesbian harridans.
But by the end, with a final brand of monster, we see the warm- and lighthearted core of the novel back to the fore. It might, as it admits, be sometimes at ""''the exact point at which mumbo meets jumbo""'', but on the whole this new-styled look at old-fashioned obsessive love and the determination the heart gives one in facing up to one's monsters is witty, sprightly and spry enough for consideration.
I must thank the publishers for my review copy.