At the funeral of his Peace Corps buddy, John Morgan, only Kinky notices that the body in the casket is not that of John, leading him to solve a mystery with origins in the jungles of Borneo twenty years ago
Richard S. "Kinky" Friedman is an American singer, songwriter, novelist, humorist, politician and former columnist for Texas Monthly who styles himself in the mold of popular American satirists Will Rogers and Mark Twain. He was one of two independent candidates in the 2006 election for the office of Governor of Texas. Receiving 12.6% of the vote, Friedman placed fourth in the six-person race.
Friedman was born in Chicago to Jewish parents, Dr. S. Thomas Friedman and his wife Minnie (Samet) Friedman. The family moved to a ranch in central Texas a few years later. Friedman had an early interest in both music and chess, and was chosen at age 7 as one of 50 local players to challenge U.S. grandmaster Samuel Reshevsky to simultaneous matches in Houston. Reshevsky won all 50 matches, but Friedman was by far the youngest competitor.
Friedman graduated from Austin High School in Austin, Texas in 1962 and earned a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Texas at Austin in 1966, majoring in Psychology. He took part in the Plan II Honors program and was a member of the Tau Delta Phi fraternity. During his freshman year, Chinga Chavin gave Friedman the nickname "Kinky" because of his curly hair.
Friedman served two years in the United States Peace Corps, teaching on Borneo in Malaysia with John Gross. During his service in the Peace Corps, he met future Texas Jewboy road manager Dylan Ferrero, with whom he still works today. Friedman lives at Echo Hill Ranch, his family's summer camp near Kerrville, Texas. He founded Utopia Animal Rescue Ranch, also located near Kerrville, whose mission is to care for stray, abused and aging animals; more than 1,000 dogs have been saved from animal euthanasia.
I think 3 1/2 stars. Friedman can write a good story.I like his style. No one describes a Sunday morning coming down quite like Kinky. He is rude, crude and sometimes just outrageous with a special kind of wisdom.....It is 1989. Kinky a country singer turned private eye attends an old friends funeral and finds the departed is a stranger. Kinky sets out to find his old friend. That's what Kinky does best.The trail leads to a Nazi conspiracy.
I read a couple of Kinky Friedman mysteries many years ago. But the recent obituary in The NY Times prompted me to go back and read some of his novels. https://www.nytimes.com/2024/06/27/ar... If you are not familiar with Friedman’s books featuring NY amateur PI, also named Kinky, but are a fan of Christopher Moore, Carl Hiaasen, try some. This is one of the more whacky ones, but good fun.
I'm gifting this a 4 despite the slow down, even lackluster, last 25 pages because the first 270 were delightful! Crazy, dangerous, clever, sarcastic, and crisply written. Fast paced and quick witted and filled with dynamic characters and snappy dialogue. A fun read.
From the second page: "I called Kelly, my travel agent, and told her I was going on a trip. 'Is it business or pleasure?' she asked. 'I'm going to Cleveland,' I said."
That sets the tone for the rest of the book. The wisecracks come hard and often, two or three on every page, probably the most you've heard since the last time you watched Groucho Marx. Kinky ain't Groucho - who is? - but he's funnier than 99% of the idiots who try to pass for comedians at your local comedy club or on television. Under normal conditions, this would be a three star book, but anyone I mention without disparagement in the same paragraph with Groucho Marx deserves an extra star.
Kinky is likely among the most gifted and unheard of authors I've ever read. I seem to forget how talented he is, either based on being distracted by his other antics, or because I just set his stuff aside for so long before I come back to it. That being said, Kinky is writing comedic mysteries. So for all the hardline literary buffs you'd likely be disgusted.
If you missed my last review then you might also not be familiar with how his series of mysteries tends to read like a television sitcom. The earlier you start and the more you read his books the more the characters are understood and make complete sense. Moreover, this is book 4 in the series and I've finally doled out 5 stars. I really liked this one. His style is so unique and entertaining. His tongue-in-cheek rendition of himself is just perfect. His storylines are quirky and yet contain and disguise some hefty emotion at times. I can think of so many other authors who are placed on some tier well above this cowboy scribbler whom he just completely leaves in the dust after a chapter. It's a shame really. A shame he's no longer writing novels and a shame the industry never really recognized what they had. See you in hell, Kinky.
RIP Kinky Friedman. I started this yesterday when I discovered that Friedman had died. I read it first time back in the mid-90s after a woman I worked with, Sarah, lent me 'The Kinky Friedman Crime Club'. That's a collection of the first three Kinky Friedman novels. I never returned it. Sorry Sarah.
Kinky Friedman was a Jewish Texan country and western singer with a side line in pseudo-autobiographical novels in which he was an amateur sleuth. Sherlock Holmes in a Stetson. Living in New York, Kinky would find himself caught up in all sorts of murderous shenanigans.
In 'Frequent Flyer' he goes to the funeral of a guy he spent some time in Borneo with when they were in the Peace Corps, John Morgan. But the body in the coffin isn't John Morgan. So where is HIS John Morgan? This book then tries to unravel the answer to that question. We get to meet his clan, including Ratso. Or should that be Ratsos. There's others. Plus two New York detectives that don't like him much.
The writing style is 40s noir with an artsy twist and a little more humour than usual, even when things get serious.
It's been a while since I read this. It was a shame Kinky Friedman had to die to get me to re-read it. I think I'll be reading the rest of 'em over the next months.
I've been rearranging the shelves in our small moshav library and was delighted to discover two books by Kinky Friedman. Of the two, this one is not my favorite. It's a wild conspiracy story, partly based in Borneo (where Kinky served in the Peace Corps), and partly in Noir New York. A lot concerns his unnamed cat. One of the intriguing things about Friedman's writing is his incorporation of characters whom he knows in real life (including, of course, the Texas Jewboys band). The story centers on his friend, John Morgan, whose funeral Kinky attends, but realizes that the body in the coffin is definitely NOT his old friend from the Borneo days. Trying to track down the whereabouts of Morgan involves old Nazis, having friends available at critical moments to save Kinky's life, and nostalgia for the jungle. I think anyone not familiar with the days of the Vietnam War and the Peace Corps would not get all the historical references, and hence, the humor. If you are already a Kinky Friedman fan, then it's a good read, but I would recommend other books he's written first.
This is the fourth book in the "Kinky" series and I loved the first three. This one not so much, but it's still an darn good read. I found it amusing and witty. I always say that in this series it's not the mystery, but the writing that's the draw. However in this one the mystery is VERY weak. I found the ending a bit dissatisfying and could see where many could be disappointed. Still Kinky and his friends don't disappoint and I breezed through this book quickly. Not enough negatives that would keep me from reading every single book that remains in this series or by this author.
This was a DNF for me. There’s no plot — just some nazis, some skinheads, endless wisecracks, many funny individually, but numbing as a whole. I could only take 100 pages of that. Since it’s the late 80s, our contrarian author includes plenty of gay humor that rankles now. But the real problem here is that author expects the jokes to carry the mess, and doesn’t bother with characterizations, suspense, or even a decent deduction. The internet suggests that Shell Scott paperbacks were are our author’s model. Seems like the low bar he set for himself was not attained.
Buy this guys country music albums. That way he will stay retired from mystery writing.
If you don't like the first 10-20 pages, put it down.
Funnier than D. Westlake, but not as funny as C. Hiaassen.
The plot is okay and holds together well enough, but it alone (btw a former Peace Corps buddy of Kinky is dead, or may be not, and Nazis may be involved) would not hold your interest and the conclusion does not explain everything.
You read this kind of book for the humor and the characters. Friedman's style is very similar to Donald Westlake's Dortmunder series of hapless criminals. Here again the central character surrounds himself by less than brilliant coharts--you know they will come out okay, the fun is just seeing how they get there, and especially Kinky's one liners (personally I think Friedman is funnier than Westlake, but not as funny as Hiaassen)
Some sample one liners:
(A friend refusing to call the police for fear of having his voice recorded) Kinky--"Yeah, I know what you mean I am also between labels."
Often confusing and totally off the wall but entertaining. A little murder along with a hairbrained plot about Nazi's hiding out in Borneo makes for a interesting book. Kinky is definitely a strange guy. His accomplices in this romp are odd and entertaining. It is interesting the words he uses for common items like blower for phone. Love the relationship he has with his cat.
Kinky searches for compatriot from Borneo and finds vengeful Nazi's. An earlier novel, many of the signature quips are there, but the characters, philosophical sarcasm and the occasional heart are less pointed. Still, characteristically Kinky from beginning to end.
Not the best on my Kinkometer. I just didn't feel it. Though, confessedly, I haven't read the Kinky adventures in order, I nevertheless found this one "same old same old." Maybe, for now, I've had my fill of Kinky Friedman, his cat, Ratzo and Rambam.