Waiting For Godalming by Robert Rankin tells the story of Lazlo Woodbine’s (the greatest detective on earth) greatest case ever – solving the mystery surrounding the murder of God. Yes, that’s right God. The Prime suspect? God’s other son – Colin. Who hired him to investigate this matter? God’s wife. And before I forget there’s the Holy Guardian Sprout called Barry living inside his head.
As well as this, there is a second storyline with main character Icarus Smith, who has chosen the profession of “re-locator” (read: thief), which aside of the run ins with the law – now get’s him into bigger trouble. He steals a suitcase of great importance and finds some new pills called “red head” – these are not a street drug, oh no. Once one is taken, that person can see the truth. They can see when a person is lying, if a person is good or bad. But most of all – they can now see the demon’s that live among us.
Does these two storylines ever marry up? Of course, but telling you how would spoil the fun.
Robert Rankin is one of my favourite authors, I just love his far-fetched-fiction – this one is on the more tamer side of that – but there’s still all the running gags, author notes and toot talking that comes with any Rankin novel and indeed Mr. Woodbine.
Sadly, I don’t think this is one of Rankin’s best – I didn’t enjoy this one as much as I have some of the others but I can’t pin point why.
The storyline is great – steeped in religion and slightly poking fun at it is right up my street, with a dash of conspiracy and some car chases – it’s pretty much all action.
As is expected the characters all have strange relationships with each other – a love/hate with some inside jokes thrown in.
Rankin always keeps you guessing until the very end about what’s really going on, this is no exception so you’ll definitely want to keep reading even though it’s not always a cliff hanger.
If you’ve never read a Rankin book before, don’t choose this one first. It’s really not his best. I’m glad a read it, and the ending was a surprise/shocker but I’m not singing it’s praises from the rooftops.