An Orc on the Wild Side is the latest comic masterpiece from one of the funniest writers in fantasy.For more from Tom Holt, check out:The Management Style of the Supreme BeingsThe Good, The Bad, and the SmugThe Outsorcerer's ApprenticeWhen It's a JarDoughnutLife, Liberty, and the Pursuit of SausagesBlonde Bombshell

All is not well with the universe - cutbacks have taken their toll, and the sun is dirty and late, thanks to being 30 billion miles overdue on its next service. None of the committees can agree on anything, and extreme measures seem called for.

From the master of comic fantasy, a new reason to find technology terrifying There are all kinds of products. The good ones. The bad ones. The ones that stay in the garage moldering for years until your garden gnome makes a home out of it. Most are harmless if handled properly, even if they do contain traces of peanuts. But some are not—not the ones that contain traces of magic. Chris Popham wasn't paying enough attention when he talked to his SatNav. Sure, she gave him directions, never talked back to him, and always led him to his next spot on the map with perfect accuracy. She was the best thing in his life. So was it really his fault that he didn't start paying attention when she talked to him? In his defense, that was her job. But when "Take the next right" turned into "Excuse me," that was when the real trouble started. Because sometimes a GPS isn't a GPS—sometimes it's an imprisoned soul trapped inside a metal box that will do anything it can to get free. And some products you just can't return.

When the Supreme Being and his son decide that being supreme isn't for them any more, it's inevitable that things get a bit of a shake-up.It soon becomes apparent that our new owners, the Venturi brothers, have a very different perspective on all sorts of things. Take Good and Evil, for example. For them, it's an outdated concept that never worked particularly well in the first place.Unfortunately, the sudden disappearance of right and wrong, while welcomed by some, raises certain concerns amongst those still attached to the previous team's management style.In particular, there's one of the old gods who didn't move out with the others. A reclusive chap, he lives somewhere up north, and only a handful even believe in him.But he's watching. And he really does need to know if you've been naughty or nice.

J.W. Wells seemed to be a respectable establishment, but the company now paying Paul Carpenter's salary is, in fact, a deeply sinister organization with a mighty peculiar management team. Paul thought he was getting the hang of it-particularly when he fell head over heels for his strangely alluring colleague, Sophie-but death is never far away when you work at J.W. Wells. Our love-struck hero is about to discover that custard is definitely in the eye of the beholder. And that it really stings.

Sculptress Bianca Wilson is a living legend. St. George is also a legend, but not living. However, when Bianca's sculpture of the patron saint and his scaly chum gets a bit too lifelike, it opens up a new can of wyrms. The dragon knows that in the battle between Good and Evil, Evil got a raw deal and is looking to set the record straight. And George (who cheated) thinks the record's just fine as it is.

A new novel from a master of comic fantasy, Tom Holt. New Evil. Same as the Old Evil, but with better PR. Mordak isn't bad, as far as goblin kings go, but when someone, or something, starts pumping gold into the human kingdoms it puts his rule into serious jeopardy. Suddenly he's locked in an arms race with a species whose arms he once considered merely part of a calorie-controlled diet. Helped by an elf with a background in journalism and a masters degree in being really pleased with herself, Mordak sets out to discover what on earth (if indeed, that's where he is) is going on. He knows that the truth is out there. If only he could remember where he put it.

Maurice has just killed a dragon with a breadknife. And had his destiny foretold . . . and had his true love spirited away. That's precisely the sort of stuff that'd bring out the latent heroism in anyone. Unfortunately, Maurice is pretty sure he hasn't got any latent heroism. Meanwhile, a man wakes up in a jar in a different kind of pickle (figuratively speaking). He can't get out, of course, but neither can he remember his name, or what gravity is, or what those things on the ends on his legs are called . . . and every time he starts working it all out, someone makes him forget again. Forget everything. Only one thing might help him. The answer to the most baffling question of all. WHEN IS A DOOR NOT A DOOR?

As everyone knows, when great warriors die, their reward is eternal life in Odin's bijou little residence known as Valhalla. But Valhalla has just changed. It has grown. It has diversified. Just like any corporation, the Valhalla Group has had to adapt to survive. Unfortunately, not even an omniscient Norse god could have prepared Valhalla for the arrival of Carol Kortright, one-time cocktail waitress, last seen dead, and not at all happy.

There are many reasons why British summers are either non-existent or, alternatively, held on a Thursday. Many of these reasons are either scientific, mad, or both-but all of them are wrong, especially the scientific ones. The real reason why it rains perpetually from January 1st to December 31st is, of course, irritable Chinese Water Dragons. Karen is one such legendary creature. Ancient, noble, nearly indestructible and, for a number of wildly improbable reasons, working as a real estate agent, Karen is irritable quite a lot of the time. But now things have changed, and Karen's no longer irritable. She's furious.

In an aspirin bottle, nobody can hear you scream. Outside, however, things are somewhat different. And when Kayaguchiya Integrated Circuits III (Kiss, to his friends), a Force Twelve genie with an attitude, is released after fourteen years of living with two dozen white tablets, there’s bound to be trouble…