Joel Byers has been described by the industry as the laziest, most brilliant, unpublished talent currently pretending to write. He has vigorously protested this appellation, as he claims he was dead all those years and has the paperwork to prove it. Since regaining his corporeal form he has promised to write more, as good flatulence jokes won’t write themselves. Or will they?
This is a book about monsters. Monsters who love us. Monsters who hate us. The monsters we nurture, and the monsters we become. They may be imperceptibly small or unimaginably vast, completely devoid of thought or filled with incomprehensible rage and hunger, but regardless of scale or motivation, they cannot be ignored.