While I was reading it, The Neddiad reminded forcefully of two other authors’ works in a specific, if somewhat slanted way. The obvious one was Sue Townsend’s The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, because Neddie Wentworthstein’s narrative voice struck me as similarly authentic and adolescent. The other eluded me for a while, but I finally figured it out: fantasist James P. Blaylock. Partly this is due to thematic resonance — both The Neddiad and much of Blaylock’s work revolve around bringing mythic tropes into modern day settings. But mostly it’s an issue of mood. The Neddiad certainly has a plot and a central conflict, but that conflict evolves very unforcedly. I found myself reading more for the pleasure of Neddie’s (and Pinkwater’s) quirky sensibilities than from a need to know what happens next. It certainly held my interest, but it never felt particularly urgent, and that made the overall vibe strike me as similar to Blaylock novels like The Last Coin.
needs more demons? worked fine for me, despite being not particularly demon-y