I liked Sacre Bleu, but I really can't figure out what I felt about it. I thought it was a beautifully written book, and I thought that Christopher Moore's imagination was just as insanely vivid as ever. I thought that some of the characters (Toulouse-Lautrec) really popped and brought life to the story, and I thought that Moore's incorporation of pictures of great works of art into the book was a brilliant and creative way of enhancing his story.But that's just the thing that bothers me about Sacre Bleu. For a book about art, muses, and the suffering and passion that artists pour into their works, shouldn't it have made me feel more than think?