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Rating: 
Summary: Not the best Kinky mystery...
Review: Fans of Kinky Friedman's humorous detective fiction will no doubt enjoy this one as well, with many of the characters in place from his first two novels. This time around, the mystery revolves around cats, books and cocaine. Kinky always sticks with familiar territory, and it's like a comfortable shoe for the reader.A couple of ugly tendencies start poking around in this one, however. Friedman's novels are always filled with people he knows in the real world...from his publishing company, the country music world or just plain old friends. That's sort of charming and folksy, but when he name-drops just for the sake of name-dropping - and the reader has no clue who he's talking about because it's some guy that he went to college with - it gets a little annoying. Several times there are entire pages describing events that seem to advance the story not one bit, only to find out that the mini-story is about his real-life publicist or assistant. I hope his assistant appreciated, because I didn't. Not to mention that some of Kinky's un-PC rambling (hilarious in the first two books) start to get a little out of hand here. It grows old to hear the same "I'm a Jew so it's okay to drop asides about tar babies, watermelons, and spics," stuff over and over. That said, it's an average mystery that doesn't pay off the way Kinky's first two books did. I'm not giving up on him, though. Vandam Street, Kinky's cat, the espresso machine, the head and parachute door-opening system and the entire crew that hangs with this Jewish cowboy in the Village keep calling me back for more tales. Although it's a lull in the series, the premise is far from played out.
Rating:
Summary: Not the best Kinky mystery...
Review: Fans of Kinky Friedman's humorous detective fiction will no doubt enjoy this one as well, with many of the characters in place from his first two novels. This time around, the mystery revolves around cats, books and cocaine. Kinky always sticks with familiar territory, and it's like a comfortable shoe for the reader. A couple of ugly tendencies start poking around in this one, however. Friedman's novels are always filled with people he knows in the real world...from his publishing company, the country music world or just plain old friends. That's sort of charming and folksy, but when he name-drops just for the sake of name-dropping - and the reader has no clue who he's talking about because it's some guy that he went to college with - it gets a little annoying. Several times there are entire pages describing events that seem to advance the story not one bit, only to find out that the mini-story is about his real-life publicist or assistant. I hope his assistant appreciated, because I didn't. Not to mention that some of Kinky's un-PC rambling (hilarious in the first two books) start to get a little out of hand here. It grows old to hear the same "I'm a Jew so it's okay to drop asides about tar babies, watermelons, and spics," stuff over and over. That said, it's an average mystery that doesn't pay off the way Kinky's first two books did. I'm not giving up on him, though. Vandam Street, Kinky's cat, the espresso machine, the head and parachute door-opening system and the entire crew that hangs with this Jewish cowboy in the Village keep calling me back for more tales. Although it's a lull in the series, the premise is far from played out.
Rating:
Summary: Good but not Kinky's Best
Review: I am a new fan of the politically incorrect, fast-paced detective novels of Kinky Friedman, having previously read The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover. These books are an easy read, with short chapters and constant movement, and Kinky (both narrator and author) occasionally summarizes what the protagonist has learned just to help the reader keep up with the storyline in the unlikely event you become confused. This time Kinky gets wrapped up in the case of a cat who disappeared from a cat show at New York's Madison Square Garden. This seemingly harmless case soon leads him down the path to murder, warring Columbian drug cartels, and perhaps an ancient sect of dangerous Cat worshippers who are believed by anthropologists to be in the New York/ New England area. However, none of this really matters all that much. The joy of reading a Friedman novel is simply to come along for the ride as Kinky, his sidekick Ratso, and other "Village Irregulars" like McGovern and Rambam converge in his Greenwich Village apartment (below the ever-present Winnie Katz and her lesbian dance class) or at Carnegie Deli to piece together information and make everything turn out happily ever after. Kinky pokes fun at hockey, golf, publishers, Columbian drug lords, authors, police and virtually everyone else who enters his path with a self-deprecating humor and a knowledge of history. His numerous historical references include such diverse characters as Vincent Van Gogh and Franz Shubert. Clearly the guy has read a few books in his day before he started writing them. Ultimately, while the novel held my interest and I read it in a single weekend, I didn't think this one was as laugh-out-loud funny as J. Edgar Hoover. Written in 1988, it was Friedman's third novel, and I suspect he was still polishing his style. However, fans of Kinky's offbeat style, (and there are many of them), will find much here to enjoy.
Rating:
Summary: Good but not Kinky's Best
Review: I am a new fan of the politically incorrect, fast-paced detective novels of Kinky Friedman, having previously read The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover. These books are an easy read, with short chapters and constant movement, and Kinky (both narrator and author) occasionally summarizes what the protagonist has learned just to help the reader keep up with the storyline in the unlikely event you become confused. This time Kinky gets wrapped up in the case of a cat who disappeared from a cat show at New York's Madison Square Garden. This seemingly harmless case soon leads him down the path to murder, warring Columbian drug cartels, and perhaps an ancient sect of dangerous Cat worshippers who are believed by anthropologists to be in the New York/ New England area. However, none of this really matters all that much. The joy of reading a Friedman novel is simply to come along for the ride as Kinky, his sidekick Ratso, and other "Village Irregulars" like McGovern and Rambam converge in his Greenwich Village apartment (below the ever-present Winnie Katz and her lesbian dance class) or at Carnegie Deli to piece together information and make everything turn out happily ever after. Kinky pokes fun at hockey, golf, publishers, Columbian drug lords, authors, police and virtually everyone else who enters his path with a self-deprecating humor and a knowledge of history. His numerous historical references include such diverse characters as Vincent Van Gogh and Franz Shubert. Clearly the guy has read a few books in his day before he started writing them. Ultimately, while the novel held my interest and I read it in a single weekend, I didn't think this one was as laugh-out-loud funny as J. Edgar Hoover. Written in 1988, it was Friedman's third novel, and I suspect he was still polishing his style. However, fans of Kinky's offbeat style, (and there are many of them), will find much here to enjoy.
Rating: 
Summary: Best Kinky
Review: I have read all the Kinky books, but this one is still my favorite. Since all his books have a "cat theme," this one is really carries it through with a cat show at Madison Square Garden. Great fun.
Rating:
Summary: Best Kinky
Review: I have read all the Kinky books, but this one is still my favorite. Since all his books have a "cat theme," this one is really carries it through with a cat show at Madison Square Garden. Great fun.
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