“Fulton is a tough, cynical, almost washed-up writer for The Prattler, the sleaziest tabloid rag in London. His sidekick is Cheryl, a perky and often insanely bitchy cub reporter. Together they are covering the ritual murder of a reality television star. As they follow the trail of clues through the half-seedy, half-hip world of London’s Hoxton Square, they run into a series of peculiar semi-hermaphrodite types while being subjected to the psychoactive power of the Blue Lotus. As the mystery unravels, hallucinogens, sexually-ambiguous cultists, a local porn shop, and the revelations of the She-god Shelia, challenge Fulton’s grasp on reality. To solve the murder, Fulton just might have to come to grips with a religious conversion, if only to experience the “happiest hallelujah-howling climax in all of literature!””
The Church of Latter-Day Eugenics sure is a wild ride. It’s a transformative experience. It’s immersive. The story is packed with British slang and humour which could be jarring, if you’re not used to it, but not in such a way that it disrupts the flow of the narrative. You’ve got a sort of gonzo journalist protagonist with little regard for ethics or integrity chasing the story of a kind-of celebrity murder, which leads you through mad methods of deduction and bizarre cult findings. I often found myself taking a moment to reflect on where the story had just taken me. It starts off as a weird murder mystery meets tabloid investigation, and the truth just bends and warps and spirals out of control from there. It’s fast paced, comical at times, disturbing at others, and it’s over before you know it, and you’ve wound up some place absolutely completely insane. And I can’t wrap my head around how good the dialogue in this book is. Pick it up and let yourself get sucked in. Maybe check that no one has spiked your drink.