Akhmed and the Atomic Matzo Balls

When you prepare to read a book titled Akhmed and the Atomic Matzo Balls or A Novel of International Intrigue, Pork-Crazed Termites, and Motherhood, your first instinctive action will be to look into the author of the opus.

Gary Buslik.

Hm... now this is a seriously rotten character if I have ever seen one. A man after my black and shriveled heart, and no doubt about it. Take, for instance, the following text he is trying to push as his CV:

When I finally got outed as a literature major, my poor mother cried for months, and my father would stride around the house ranting, "Big man! He knows the parts of speech!" After he kicked me out and disowned me, I lived in the airport for a while reciting Henry James for spare change [Ed: probably picking travelers' pockets]. One day a veteran travel writer took pity on me and showed me how, by making hotel and restaurant owners naively believe I would write good reviews about them, they would give me free rooms, meals, and drinks [Ed: read "offed a travel writer and am using his documents and, of course, that Amex Platinum card"].

So, all in all, the man passes the entry exam to the training course in the Elders' organization.

But what about the book? To start with, it has an eye-pleasing cover page:

Of course, exactly as the contents of the book, the cover is sick. So instead of staring at it for a long time and getting queasy, you are advised to open and to read it. And what about the contents? Colleague Bookworm calls it "rich satire". We, the Elders, don't know from satire and when we see one we usually try to kill it. Reading the book, however, caused me no end of worry. The man simply knows too much. How did he, for instance, know about predilection of Mahmoud the Mad (thinly veiled by the name of Akhmed) to matzo balls? This was one of the most strictly kept Elders' secrets, which helped us to raise Mahmoud's radioactivity to the level unknown in history and cause that green halo he was unwittingly bragging about. How did he stumble on the pork-obsessed termites (our Passover present to the Chief Rabbi to eliminate this unclean (but tasty) animal)? There are many other questions related to the information freely presented to the reader. In short, we fear an inside job.

Yes, this book reveals too much. Since we usually don't cry about spilled milk (after all, it's not spilled whiskey) we shall relax, swim with the current and think about various creative ways to re-educate Mr Buslik. As for the book, it definitely contains many thoroughly revolting, brain-curdling, nail-biting scenes that will ensure you will not only be unable to close it before you are through; no, you shall remain wide awake rereading some especially and sickeningly delicious passages. Unsurprisingly, camels are involved in some of them as well. In droves.

Oh, and you shall enjoy a nice tasteful image of a mutated pork-munching termite from time to time too, which feature of the book undoubtedly raises its fair market value.

Now to the main part of this review. After all, adjectives, curses and superlatives do not a rating make. One has to use a reliable and familiar scale, so I shall borrow one from the movie business. So here we go:

• Sex: plenty of choice toe-curling scenes.
• Nudity (imaginary, of course, but beggars cannot be choosers): enough for a summer vacation in a nudist camp.
• Violence: galore.
• Language: Crude and coarse to the hilt.

Suggested minimal age of the reader: 78 (sedated to prevent possible convulsions).

So what are you waiting for? Go and buy the book. Or, if you are not a tree killer, buy its digital copy. And remember, we, the Elders, are watching, so better hurry.