- Tony Chu is a detective with a secret. A weird secret. Tony Chu is cibopathic , which means he gets psychic impressions from whatever he eats. It also means he's a hell of a detective -- as long as he doesn't mind nibbling on the corpse of a murder victim to figure out whodunit and why.
- Tony Chu is a detective with a secret. A weird secret. Tony Chu is cibopathic, which means he gets psychic impressions from whatever he eats. It also means he's a hell of a detective -- as long as he doesn't mind nibbling on the corpse of a murder victim to figure out whodunit and why. He's been brought on by the Special Crimes Division of the FDA, the most powerful law enforcement agency on the planet, to investigate their strangest, sickest and most bizarre cases.
- This gorgeous, oversized edition loaded with extras follows Tony for the first ten issues of IGN.com's pick for "Best Indie Series of 2009," and MTV Splash Page's "Best New Series of 2009."
- Collects the New York Times' best seller "Taster's Choice," as well as the follow-up story-arc "International Flavor."
Publishers Weekly® Reviews
- Reviewed in: Publishers Weekly, page .
- Review Date: 2010-10-25
- Reviewer: Staff
This breakout indie success (the first two storylines of which are collected here) is the very definition of high-concept: a gastronomical-satirical crime thriller named after its protagonist, Tony Chu, a "cibopath" detective who gets psychic impressions from everything he eats. Chu is consequently recruited by the Special Crimes Division of the FDA and forced to put one horrifically disgusting thing after another into his mouth. The setting is a near-future world where a pandemic bird flu has led the U.S. government to outlaw chicken (now served only at speakeasies), giving rise to the discovery of a suspicious fruit that tastes... like chicken. Though Layman's tone can be inconsistent--fluctuating between light comedy and grisly violence--it levels out when other characters with food-related gifts show up, including a "cibolocutor" who can express himself solely through culinary arts. Guillory's loose, loopy style, with its wildly distorted anatomy and perspective, underscores Layman's humor but is grounded in brick-solid storytelling; a knockout scene early on, where Chu becomes overwhelmed by the psychic residue in a single spoonful of soup, perfectly sums up the curious aftertaste of this nutty, tangy tome. Illus. (Aug.)