THE GOBLIN ADDICTION

A craving for the narcotic meat of goblins causes gory upheavals in this fantasy.

Vanhaverbeke sets his yarn in Unction, a folksy village (apart from the gallows in the town square) where modern technology coexists with magic and unusual sentient races, including ogres, fairies, and, especially, goblins. These last, who live in the nearby settlement of Watusi, are an inoffensive sort: slow-witted, timid, and only a few feet tall in their warty green skin. Unfortunately, eating goblin meat sends Unctionites into a trancelike ecstasy, followed by agonizing withdrawal pangs; addicts become soulless sociopaths who will commit any atrocity to score a hit. Alas, a group of 10-year-old boys, including Little Timmy, Billy, and Joe Bob, becomes addicted and sets off for Watusi hoping to capture more goblins to devour using cinnamon- and clove-spiced porridge as bait. They are tracked by Coach Mayfield, who intends to kill the boys to end their marauding. Meanwhile, Watusi is taken over by the dictator Kafclack and his clique of genetically engineered supergoblins, who prepare to attack the Unction goblin eaters with the help of a strength serum and an amnesia drug. These devices insert another wild card into the proceedings when they are accidentally ingested by Plukfluf, a nebbish goblin who acquires unnatural strength and intelligence and launches a crusade to make peace between Unctionites and goblins. Presiding over the fray is the deity Jobo, a celestial goblin who rides a flying unicorn and injects Hindu-ish philosophical ruminations—“Your souls are getting megawatt jolts of karma”—into the chaos. Vanhaverbeke imbues his sardonic tale with a lively plot, cutting satirical wit, and occasional flights of poetic introspection. (“ ‘A butterfly would be nice, to come back as a butterfly,’ muses a dying troll. ‘Anything, I guess, would be better than a troll.’ ”) Unfortunately, it’s hard to get invested in the characters because of their cartoonishness and the sadistic violence the narrative casually metes out even to children. (“First, the internal organs had been taken out with all the piping still attached so they were nonetheless functional. This involved great pain, but nothing compared to when Jobo had spread their ribs, removed their hearts, and laid them beating on their chests pumping outside of their bodies.”) The novel’s farcical tenor and gratuitous bloodshed make it feel callow rather than captivating.

A richly imaginative fable that’s hampered by one-dimensional characterizations and glib brutality.