Fiction. Drama. Film. Sean Kilpatrick may be the P.G. Wodehouse of Hell. The blistering anger of his deliciously delirious rants delivers more cathartic mirth than provocation, and the ever-present poetic invention and subtly tidy thematic organization hiding in plain sight behind the ultra-violence inflicted on reader, characters, language and meaning suggest, in the end, a graceful and always musical accommodation to form. In this faux sequel...