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Shit List
In a sharp, funny, and deeply relevant social satire, Daniel A. Hoyt examines the worlds of NBA basketball, indie Rock and Roll, and presidential politics. On the first day of 2017, Harrison Rawles - a paid body double for NBA superstar TR Washington - suffers an unsettling occurrence: A small orange animal on the side of the road fills him (and his police escort) with sudden, overwhelming regret. As 2017 moves into the first 100 days of President Dadondrik Kukla's term of office, the creature appears throughout Zebulon City, especially at rock concerts led by singer/guitarist Sabina Murphy. When TR begins to make the yoga position known as "chair pose" during the National Anthem, President Kukla declares political war. Meanwhile, Sabina struggles with her new-found fanbase, and Harrison tries to love his pseudo-teammates and spread the joy of "Star Trek." Will President Kukla receive his Russian tank? Will the orange creature make everyone cry? As the president and his deputies begin a series of inhumane policies, the tears seem all too necessary. SHIT LIST is a satire with a large heart - and a killer guitar solo.
274 pages, Paperback
Published July 15, 2024
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 5 reviews
July 26, 2024
Man, Hoyt will not stop with the six-star books!
August 24, 2024
This book is a masterclass in satire. It had me rolling with laughter, clenching my jaw from anger and shame, and the dialogue is pitch-perfect. What an incredible novel Dan’s written. Well done!
February 18, 2025
Dan Hoyt wears his political biases right on his sleeve. His new novel Shit List is both an unapologetically broad, and line-item specific evisceration of the first 100 days of the Trump administration. Through barely-disguised caricatures of the whole unseemly cabal, as well as a kooky supporting cast that includes a clear stand-in for LeBron James, a hapless stand-in for that stand-in, and a guitar goddess turned unwitting cult leader, Hoyt attacks that tumultuous stretch of recent history like a man in the throes of an apoplectic trance (in NBA parlance, you might say he was writing lights out).
Evoking nothing quite so much as the cockeyed absurdity of the great Tom Robbins, Hoyt’s characters pinball madly around Cleveland and DC, their disparate stories periodically pinging against one another by way of that adorable little critter on the book’s cover: a Whitehead’s Pygmy Squirrel that elicits intense bouts of empathetic shame and remorse in any person it comes near. As the grotesque President Kukla and his satirical (but again, only barely) sycophants work feverishly to seal borders, separate families, and repeal healthcare laws, the book slowly but steadily reconstructs the relentless dread of its era – that low-simmering, “oh God, what now?” nausea that accompanied each new day – until even the funniest one-liners stop being funny.
And that’s the real power of Shit List. It may start off feeling a little goofy – a little immature even – but as it piles on the infuriating headlines, it reveals itself to be a honey-coated bear trap; an unhinged SNL sketch that drags on for months, until all the players have broken, and everyone just wants to go home. It’s not so much about parodying Trump as it is about the Trump Presidency marking the death of parody. No matter how many pointed jabs Hoyt takes at the Donald’s limited grasp of the NBA rulebook, or the Bible, or the English language, he never quite breaks through to a joke that feels outsized or over the top – a gag that goes “too far”. It’s all just a little too believable to laugh at, and that’s kind of the point.
For Gen X’ers like Hoyt, and millennials like myself, who’ve relied on detached snark and “Tweeting through it” for decades to manage our political ennui, Shit List demands that we examine ourselves, and the world we’re leaving to future generations, more deeply. To ask what it says about us if we decide, as a country, to run this particular experiment back. Sure, it’s ok to let through an incredulous, inappropriate chuckle from time to time – we all have to stay sane somehow – but at the dawn of this still-young century, where events that happened as recently as last week can already start to feel fungible, and the powers that be are constantly working to revise and shape “the narrative” – wrestling for that 51% controlling interest in our fractured, shared reality – Hoyt refuses to let us forget a single, despicable detail.
Reviewer's Update: This review originally ran the day of the 2024 election. Things... aren't looking great. Don't say Dan didn't warn us.
Evoking nothing quite so much as the cockeyed absurdity of the great Tom Robbins, Hoyt’s characters pinball madly around Cleveland and DC, their disparate stories periodically pinging against one another by way of that adorable little critter on the book’s cover: a Whitehead’s Pygmy Squirrel that elicits intense bouts of empathetic shame and remorse in any person it comes near. As the grotesque President Kukla and his satirical (but again, only barely) sycophants work feverishly to seal borders, separate families, and repeal healthcare laws, the book slowly but steadily reconstructs the relentless dread of its era – that low-simmering, “oh God, what now?” nausea that accompanied each new day – until even the funniest one-liners stop being funny.
And that’s the real power of Shit List. It may start off feeling a little goofy – a little immature even – but as it piles on the infuriating headlines, it reveals itself to be a honey-coated bear trap; an unhinged SNL sketch that drags on for months, until all the players have broken, and everyone just wants to go home. It’s not so much about parodying Trump as it is about the Trump Presidency marking the death of parody. No matter how many pointed jabs Hoyt takes at the Donald’s limited grasp of the NBA rulebook, or the Bible, or the English language, he never quite breaks through to a joke that feels outsized or over the top – a gag that goes “too far”. It’s all just a little too believable to laugh at, and that’s kind of the point.
For Gen X’ers like Hoyt, and millennials like myself, who’ve relied on detached snark and “Tweeting through it” for decades to manage our political ennui, Shit List demands that we examine ourselves, and the world we’re leaving to future generations, more deeply. To ask what it says about us if we decide, as a country, to run this particular experiment back. Sure, it’s ok to let through an incredulous, inappropriate chuckle from time to time – we all have to stay sane somehow – but at the dawn of this still-young century, where events that happened as recently as last week can already start to feel fungible, and the powers that be are constantly working to revise and shape “the narrative” – wrestling for that 51% controlling interest in our fractured, shared reality – Hoyt refuses to let us forget a single, despicable detail.
Reviewer's Update: This review originally ran the day of the 2024 election. Things... aren't looking great. Don't say Dan didn't warn us.
June 28, 2025
One of the funniest and, perhaps, most prescient books I've read in a long time. Hoyt's humor is rough and tumble because that's what we deserve for this story.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 5 reviews