Book Review: Shakespeare for Squirrels

Book Review: Shakespeare for Squirrels

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I truly, genuinely did not expect another Christopher Moore Shakespeare parody book, so I was pleasantly surprised when Shakespeare for Squirrels was announced. I’m a big Shakespeare nerd and I’ve always loved performing the plays, so you can always count me in for a good retelling of the Bard’s work (and doubly so after enjoying both Fool and The Serpent of Venice).

Some time after the events of The Serpent of Venice, our heroic fool Pocket is set adrift by his pirate crew and lands on the shores of Greece — only to encounter some very odd fairies, a horrible theater company, and an over-enthusiastic gendarmerie. After being thrown in jail, Pocket is given a task by the queen, then another by the king, then another by the fairy queen, and so on and so on. The key to all of them (and to saving his apprentice)? Figure out who killed the Puck and why.

This one sounds great on paper, being based on arguably Shakespeare’s most popular and well-known play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In practice, I’m not sure it worked out as well as I’d have liked.

Perhaps the biggest letdown for me was the humor. Fool and The Serpent of Venice were genuinely funny, and I laughed out loud multiple times during each. I don’t think I laughed aloud once during Shakespeare for Squirrels. The jokes felt tired and far, far too reliant on the same sexual puns over and over again (and yes, I realize the irony of saying that about something based on a Shakespearean play).

On top of that, the plot was chaotic at best. The quartet of lovers that Midsummer revolves around felt tangential at best, despite vague hints by a certain choral character to the contrary. I’d almost rather they not be included at all. Pocket makes very little progress on what is ostensibly the actual goal (figuring out who killed Puck) and the finale is mostly him lighting an anthill on fire to see what comes out. It meanders and twists, and overall the book feels remarkably longer than its 263 pages.*

That said, there are bright patches. Cobweb and the other minor fairies are great additions, terrible at counting (this was probably the best running gag) and with a strange little secret. Moore has actually done a little worldbuilding for Oberon’s goblins, which I also appreciated. The expansion of Bottom’s role, from a person to be laughed at and pitied to foil for Pocket and mostly reliable companion, is a welcome change. And the closest I came to laughing aloud was pretty much every time Rumor entered the scene, only to be roundly mocked and have his stuff stolen.

And Pocket is Pocket. He’s irreverent, dashing, charming, rude, all in equal turns. But he does seem to develop some relationships that break past his exterior. He starts the book in turmoil over his losses, and he ends the book in a good place, with companionship and a level of contentedness (or as much as we can expect from a traveling fool).

This is a book I just feel okay about. It wasn’t great, it was fine to read, but I’m not going to be revisiting it anytime soon. I didn’t actively hate it, but I’m not really recommending it either; even if you’re a fan of Pocket, you might want to skip this installment (or at least wait for the paperback version).

*I genuinely did not realize it was this short. Holy smokes. It’s barely a novel.

Grade: 3/5 stars

Memorable Quote:

A thrown knife is a fussy weapon. Not only must it be thrown with enough force to pierce an enemy, but it must arrive at its target point-first and perpendicular or you may as well have flung a stick for all the damage it will do. Thus is required an assessment of the blade’s balance and weight, as well as the rate at which it will spin and how far the weapon will travel with each spin. With practice, and a matched set of throwing knives, one becomes able to instantly calculate the distance, time the rotation, adjust the force and attitude of the throw to match the circumstances, and, if truly aimed, drive a dagger into a soft target to the hilt. All this calculation, of course, depends on the ability to count, at which fairies are complete shit.
— Shakespeare for Squirrels, pg. 155
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