Road Kill – Kinky Friedman

©1997, Simon & Schuster, New York

In this latest foray into the world of amateur detection, erstwhile country singer (and later Texas politician), Kinky Friedman takes an oddly new twisting road. Again the author plays the starring role in a mystery.

Waking up to find himself halfway to crazy-ville, Kinky has a discussion with a gypsy in the bathroom mirror that leads his friends to send him on a sabbatical trip with long-time friend Willie Nelson on the Honeysuckle Rose (Willie’s tour bus). The trip, while restoring some of Friedman’s sanity (if indeed there is any) drops a new case in our sleuth’s lap—one involving Indians (of the Native American variety), roadies, curses, and pot-shots.

In the end, Friedman and friends find themselves investigating age-old Indian legends and Willie’s ex-wives.

Kinky is his usual irreverent self in reporting this tale of music-world travel and murder. If you’re a fan, you’ll still be one. Three out of five reading glasses.

—Benjamin Potter, February 27, 2011

The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover – Kinky Friedman

©1996 Simon & Schuster, New York

[Before moving on with the review, I ought to explain that I haven’t really jumped off the deep end on a Friedman kick, I just have several of his stories (as well as other magnificent authors) on my TBR shelf. I picked up J. Edgar Hoover before remembering that I hadn’t read John Wayne yet, so I had to do a pick up and come back to this one.]

Every private investigator—live or fictional, professional or amateur (male that is)—has the dream of a leggy blond bombshell with pouty lips walking into their life with a desperate case that must be solved. Perhaps we have Sam Spade to thank for that. In his ninth appearance as himself in fiction, Kinky Friedman meets just such a client. Polly Price is worried about her missing husband Derrick, and on the advice of a friend in Washington, she shows up on the Kinkster’s doorstep in New York with a healthy retainer and a sad story.

Throwing a wrench into the works and keeping Kinky away from the missing person case is the fact that his long-time friend Mike McGovern has decided to go nuts by seeing his long-dead acquaintance and mentor, Leaning Jesus, who just happened to be the chef for Al Capone in the gangster’s heyday.

The story moves rather quickly and the writing is classic Friedman—brassy with an irreverent political incorrectness that most standup comics would envy. The pages are filled with innuendo and suggestive puns that are characteristic of the writer, but what else would you expect from a man named Kinky?

Not to spoil the ending, I won’t tell it here, but readers will be slightly disappointed in the lackluster resolution of this outing for the Kinkster. Notably missing from this volume are members of the Village Irregulars who often help with the solving of the mysteries. To make up for the missing group sessions, We get to see Kinky spend more time talking with the cat, whining about Ratso—his usual “Watson” and the subject of the last book, and finally an extended appearance from Rambam, the professional p.i. who advises Kinky from time to time.

Once again, Friedman offers a nice get-away book, although this one will have somewhat leaner appeal than previous offerings. I give The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover three and one-half out of five reading glasses.

—Benjamin Potter, October 3, 2008

God Bless John Wayne – Kinky Friedman

©1995, Simon & Schuster, New York

Now, I’ve read Kinky’s work. As a matter of fact, this is the eighth of his novels starring fictional versions of himself and his friends solving mysterious cases. I intend to read more (have several on the TBR shelf). I think that when I reach the last of his novels, I’ll be semi-sad that he chose to retire from writing PI novels recently. Yes, this is the same guy who spent several years traveling with the “Texas Jewboys” on the country-western scene. It’s also the one who stirred up Texas politics in the last gubernatorial election by throwing his black cowboy hat into the ring.

What I like about Friedman’s writing is that he doesn’t take himself—or anything much—too seriously. He weaves a readable tale that is fun and easy to read.

In God Bless John Wayne, the Kinkster finds himself in New York (where the lion’s share of his stories are set), and gets sucked into helping his friend Ratso (the New York Ratso, not the Washington one) find his birth mother. What he finds is a string of dead people—some long dead (like the lawyer who brokered the adoption in the first place), some known to be dead (like Ratso’s adoptive father), some accidentally dead (like the friend in Ratso’s apartment), and some intentionally dead (like the son of the lawyer—another lawyer with the peculiar name of Hamburger).

Kinky enlists the help of several of the Village irregulars who have been helpful in solving previous cases, as well as a couple of new faces, to track down the long lost mother. One problem that he faces is that his very own ‘Watson’ is now his client as well as missing one day and turning up in a bad place the next.

Kinky uses page after page of pun and innuendo to keep his readers involved in the story line. That will turn many potential readers away, but will appeal to a vast number of mystery fans and lovers of a dry wit. God Bless John Wayne is a fun walk on the cold streets of New York in the winter (with a quick jaunt to Florida for relief). I give it four out of five reading glasses.

—Benjamin Potter, September 17, 2008