It could have been any summer's evening, but of course it wasn't. It was the end of some things, the beginning of so many others. Nick Wheatley has finished high school, but he isn't ready for the rest of his life. His parents are getting divorced, his sister is downright weird and his best friend and neighbour, Marion, seems to have acquired a boyfriend. One hot night, Marion's father is killed in a hit-and-run. There are no suspects and no leads. But a sly tip from the local psychic sends Nick and Marion into the undertow of a strange and sinister world they hadn't known existed in the suburbs - one of inscrutable gangsters, speed-dealing bikies and unpredictable, one-eyed conspiracy theorists. It's a world they'll be lucky to survive. Praise for Ordinary Gods and Monsters 'Ordinary Gods and Monsters is a glorious Mozart comic opera set in suburban Australia ... So exquisitely written, so precisely choreographed, that it compels you not so much to read along as sing along with it. Only when the laughs are done, and the curtain is falling, and you are applauding like mad, do you realise that the tale has been much sadder than you expected it to be.' Aravind Adiga 'A perfect balance between dread and page-turning pleasure ... the compulsive narrative artfully blends coming-of-age, mystery, and thriller with a hint of the supernatural. I couldn't put it down.' Steve Toltz 'Beautiful, poignant and achingly nostalgic - Womersley's coming-of-age gem captures the wonder and loss of a simpler time.' Toni Jordan 'Chris Womersley's gods and monsters live in suburban backyards, bedrooms, playgrounds, cul-de-sacs and scraps of bush. Colouring this landscape with the vivid dreams and fears of childhood, he elevates it into a mythic realm, exciting and dangerous and a lot more. This novel is a work of magic. It's a note-perfect crime thriller for anyone who longs to see the world as new and to feel it as sharply as they did as a child.' Malcolm Knox 'A beautifully written novel that manages to be funny, suspenseful and incredibly tender.' Tara June Winch