Description
Jeff Folschinsky’s A Fool’s Guide to the Undead is a wildly imaginative, fast-paced, and frequently hilarious take on the supernatural that feels like a satirical mirror of the “all-encompassing” nature of modern professional and family life.
The book starts with a premise that resonated with my “inner manager”: the danger of bad information. We meet Dana Buttermore, who is being chased by what she assumes are slow-moving creatures of the night. Her realization that the “terrible tomes of knowledge” she grew up with, basically the outdated manuals of the monster world, were completely wrong is a perfect metaphor for being given the wrong briefing at work. The horror of discovering that these “undead sonofabitches could move so fast” is described with a dry wit that had me laughing out loud during my commute. As Dana contemplates the unfairness of being “denied… a crucial piece of information” that could save her life, I couldn’t help but think of every time I’ve been sent into a board meeting without the final slide deck.
What I appreciated most as a working mother was the way the book treats the paranormal as just another set of logistics to manage. The world-building around the “Mystery Spot Museum and Burrito Emporium” is genius. It takes the idea of a “side hustle” to a cosmic level. I loved the character dynamics, particularly the interactions between the women in the story. There’s a scene involving Penny that I found particularly relatable; she uses a bizarrely specific piece of trivia about Napoleon Bonaparte being defeated by a pack of rabbits to distract a wall of decaying flesh. It felt like a “mom move” if I’ve ever seen one, using random, distracting information to de-escalate a chaotic situation.
The narrative also touches on the “Novi Dei” corporation and the idea that even the afterlife has its own HR department and corporate hierarchy. The dialogue is snappy and intelligent, shifting effortlessly between existential dread and mundane complaints. By the time Renee appears, dealing with the aftermath of a literal bloodbath while worrying about whether the stains will ever come out of her hair, I was completely sold. It captures that “final girl” energy but grounds it in the reality of someone who still has to worry about the dry-cleaning bill tomorrow. If you’re looking for a book that treats a zombie apocalypse with the same stressed-out, fast-paced energy as a Monday morning staff meeting, this is the perfect escape. It’s smart, irreverent, and a great reminder that no matter how fast the monsters move, a well-placed math problem or a bit of “cosmic politeness” might just save the day.