For those who have not yet begun Odd Hours (sheezz, what the heck already?), a small preface of portent as you head into what I respectfully believe to be a very way cool contemporary American high desert gone beachcombing ghost story comedy farce fiddling on the brink of industrialized doomsday. In this set of books, when accessing theology is relevant to the drama, Dean Koontz leans towards Catholicism. Although not as a constant, this is not a metaphysical guidebook, but in the scenes where Oh shit!, or Oh Fuck!, or Oh very Vishnu!, or Oh Lotus Blossom!, or Oh jihad!, or Oh Screaming Mimi! could be the exclamation, well, because of Odd’s incidents with Catholic monks and peripatetic ghosts, perhaps because Heaven, Hell and Purgatory make for clear-cut boundaries for his various parallels of entity interaction, Oh God! will be Odd’s yelp and afterlife of choice.  But do read on, Koontz has openly explored the gamut from atheism to spiritual agnosticism to Athena’s Parthenon in shambles . . . as you will see.  AND if you have not expressed a hearty belly chuckle by page oh …116, I will be surprised (as much as encouraging of your loved ones to check your pulse), and you can punch me in the nose without reprisal ~ unless a lack of retaliation will leave you feeling flat.  This is a bard who has worn the weight of a weary world on his literary shoulders for his entire career and has learned to laugh to keep from crying, to roar to keep from going postal, to …crow to keep Captain Hook from retraining his goldie into a bad dog. ……..Nah, Trixie, you’re a goood dog, good dog, yesss….