Knees Up Mother Earth
The Brentford Trilogy Book 7

Book Details

Library

Author

Robert Rankin

Category

Humor

Editor

Reference #

Contributor

Location

Translator

Status

Publisher

Gollancz

Owner

Country

Great Britain

Personal

Language

Read it

Yes

Year Published

2004

Date Read

05/01/2006

ISBN

0575076496

Personal Rating

 10/10

LCCN

Purchase

Edition

Purchase Date

30/12/2005

Printing

Acquired from 

Page & Blackmore, Nelson

Binding

Paperback

Price

$26.95

Pages

439

Value

$0.00

Overview

There's bit trouble in little Brentford. Property developers are planning to destroy Griffin Park, the borough's beloved football ground. Shock! Horror! Something must be done.

This is Brentford, and ancient forces of evil - Lovecraftian loathsome and beasties from the bottomless pit, that sort of evil - are stirring.

Magic, time travel and football: not exactly your everyday combination. But in this, the seventh book in the Brentford Trilogy, which is also the second book in the Witches of Chiswick trilogy, the Father of Far Fetched Fiction spins an epic yarn which is destined to become a modern classic. Unless those ancient forces of evil break out, of course.

Review

I'm not a fan of soccer, by any means. But I am a fan of Pooley's, and a definite fan of Neville, the part time barman, so I had to have this book regardless of what it's supposed to be about.

Because, of course, Robert Rankin rarely writes about what he's supposed to write about, and instead gives you a slap-in-the-face, laugh-until-you-cry collection of random moments that somehow manage to tell a story.

In this book, we get to meet HG Wells (while Norman repairs the time machine), we get to see more of the Campbell, everyones favourite Scottish Terror (Terrier?), and we get to see Neville, who is not so much the only sane person left, but rather a man who got in over his head, then resented it when he put his two friends, Pooley and Omally, forward to correct the problem.

I love Robert Rankin's sense of humour, and I love the topsy-turvey roads his stories take. I especially love his complete disregard for anything sacred (Prince Charles telling his boys what their granny used to get up to).