Customer Reviews

The Astrological Diary of God

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4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(2)
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Vonnegut and Adams are two of my favorite authors, and -- perhaps more importantly -- I loved Bo Fowler's other book, Scepticism, Inc. Very sadly, though, I found The Astrological Diary of God to be tough to even finish. It's too focused on masturbation, the characters are otherwise not very compelling, and the story seems to lose itself halfway through the book. That said, I highly encourage readers who like Vonnegut and similar authors to check out Scepticism, Inc. and, personally, intend to read whatever Bo Fowler publishes next.

I was unable to finish this book. Half way through I thought if I want vonnegut I can read breakfast of champions again. So I did.

*smiles* Namely because they read reviews like the first two.

This book is FUNNY. They should not have said it's like Vonnegut because I think Fowler is doing something quite different, giving us a totally different narrative and book.

He masturbates a lot.. so do you, the only difference is that he is God and he creates universes when he cums.

If you can read that and not be intrigued, you don't wanna read this.

The read is easy, the pacing is perfect, great pictures, and it is severely funny -- whether you know a lot about astrology or not.

The message of the book is great and the indeterminate ending feels satisfying because it is answered... maybe.

It's a great read, but not for poseurs to the literary form.

Postmodernism at it's snickering best.

If Kurt Vonnegut Jr. and the late Douglas Adams contrived to have a crack baby together, Bo Fowler might have been the result. This wacky successor to Fowler's astonishing Scepticism Inc. delights in poking blasphemous fun at the notion of God, modern cosmology, and the cast-offs of Japanese culture after World War II. The plot concerns a morbidly obese delusional failed kamikaze pilot who thinks he creates galaxies each time he masturbates. He winds up being tried by the U.N. for having littered the universe with enough much excess mass to kill Time itself, but who cares? In manic fast-paced prose, Fowler skewers religion, astrology, and the conventions of science fiction -- in all, not a bad day's work. The philosophically-trained Fowler persists in mistaking the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal (truth in reviewing notice: one of my employers)for an atheist organization. But the notion of skeptics across the world inflating their bright orange life jackets each time public credulity offends them is priceless all the same. The lists of historical events that are mystically "parallel" from an astrological point of view are priceless too. Blasphemous, superficially nonsensical fun -- highly recommended.