THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, September 27, 1995 TAG: 9509270038
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E3 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Book Review
SOURCE: BY GEORGE H. TUCKER
LENGTH: Medium: 65 lines
WHETHER HE MEANT to or not, Kinky Friedman has written a page turner in ``God Bless John Wayne'' (Simon & Schuster, 253 pp., $22) that is based on the biblical injunction: ``Greater love hath no man than he lay down his life for his friend.''
It matters not in this instance that Kinky's friend is a typical New York smart aleck who, on occasion, has tried his benefactor's patience to the breaking point. When Kinky's obnoxious sidekick appeals to him to use his not-to-be-sneezed-at powers of sleuthing to help him solve a serious problem, however, the Texas Jewboy, as Kinky likes to bill himself, steps in and comes near losing his own life before the mystery is cleared up.
Since Kinky's revelations result in elevating his client into the multimillionaire bracket, and since the same bozo has never been known to pick up a tab, one is left to wonder if the relationship will last. Even so, all of Kinky's fans will soon know when his next novel, ``The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover,'' hits the bookstores.
Briefly, Ratso, Kinky's continually sponging friend, appeals to him to try to discover his birth mother, he having been adopted by a close-mouthed couple when he was an infant. Reluctant at first, Kinky finally undertakes the chore, and his subsequent adventures with any number of shady characters will keep the Kinkster's devotees on tenterhooks until the final denouement.
Except for one previous mystery, ``Armadillos and Old Lace,'' which was set in Texas, all of Kinky's other books, including ``John Wayne,'' have his seedy loft apartment in New York's Greenwich Village as their background. As devoted Kinky fans already know, the author has set himself up there as an amateur sleuth after having previously been a vocalist and guitar player in a rock band known as The Texas Jewboys, their theme being ``They Ain't Makin' Jews Like Jesus Anymore.'' When he is not solving crimes the New York Police Department has more or less written off, Kinky drinks a lot of black coffee and Irish whiskey, smokes one strong cigar after another and humors his cat, an all-wise feline he picked up as a kitten one cold night in Chinatown.
Naturally, Kinky, who uses his real name for that of his fictional detective, attracts a lot of off-beat acquaintances. These range from a hard-drinking newspaper reporter with a bray like a jackass to a lesbian who runs a dance class on the floor above where she and her liberated friends work out their frustrations to the tune of ``I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair.''
Well, by now I hope I've said enough to make Kinky fans start a stampede to the bookstores - a thing they would have done anyway once the news of his latest adventure was hot off the press. Even better, I hope what I have used to bait the trap will gain Kinky new - and avid - readers.
By taking him on, any mystery fan who has previously missed his marvelously told and zany shenanigans will not only be meeting a refreshingly new author, he or she will also be encountering an unusual sleuth who includes a good deal of poetic feeling and underlying sympathy with the flotsam and jetsam of humanity in an empathy that is as big as the heart of Texas. MEMO: George H. Tucker is a columnist for The Virginian-Pilot. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
JOE RUDE
Kinky Friedman's main character bears his name.
by CNB