I’m not entirely convinced PAUL IS UNDEAD isn’t an elaborate ruse.
I have a theory.
What if Lewis Carroll, Salvador Dali, Simon Pegg, Edgar Wright and George Romero ran a Beatles History Fan Club and Hunter S. Thompson kept the minutes from each meeting? Would it be that hard for Alan Goldsher to steal those minutes and seamlessly piece them together?
Hmm…I wonder, because PAUL IS UNDEAD full of that kind of bawdy brilliance.
Mick Jagger, Zombie Hunter? Check.
Ringo Star, Ninja Lord? Check.
Dismembered Body Parts? Double Check. (I’m still giggling over each reference to ‘beans & franks’ or ‘plonkers’)
But fear not, PAUL IS UNDEAD is not mere frippery. The personalities, the events, they mythos of the Beatles are still here, meticulously catalogued. Goldsher has simply taken the authorized history of the Fab Four and coated it with a thick varnish of blood and brains.
The book chronicles the band’s rise to the Toppermost of the Poppermost all the way from the Liverpool days to the to the maniac massacre at Shea Stadium to the Battle Royale with Yoko in the Abbey Road Studios. The reader need not understand the intricacies of Beatles lore to enjoy the narrative, but knowing Beatles’ fans will wink at Goldsher’s insider jests. Indeed, there are plenty of honest moments, wrapped in jaw-dropping tomfoolery.
Yes, for the connoisseur of both the Beatles and fresh brains, PAUL IS UNDEAD is just the dish.
Hungry for More?
If three hundred pages of limb snapping gore hasn’t dampened your appetite, then try this recipe for pull-apart monkey bread.