A More Humane Kinky
In his new book, cult author reveals a deeper empathy
When an author garners endorsements from both Molly Ivins and George W. Bush, claims to be the first full-blooded Jew to play the Grand Ole Opry, runs an animal rescue ranch in Texas, and seems to be seriously considering a run for governor of that state, it’s a good bet you’re in for a wild read.
For the numerous fans of Kinky Friedman, none of this comes as a surprise. Through 16 books, the Kinkster has kept up a fast-moving, quip-a-minute series of mysteries starring—surely you saw this coming—himself. Or, at least, a mythical version of himself who lives in Greenwich Village, a setting about as far removed from Friedman’s own Texas Hill Country home as one can get and still be speaking English. In his work as a consulting detective, the fictional Kinky is assisted by a bizarre group of friends he calls the “Village Irregulars.” Early in The Prisoner of Vandam Street (Simon & Schuster, 228 pp., $24), Friedman notes, “As a private investigator in the City of New York, you come to depend on those whom you consider your friends, even if they are sometimes unreliable, unredeemable, and, in one case I can think of, unhygienic.” Each Kinky installment is heavily flavored by ribald interaction with the Irregulars, as well as Friedman’s own brand of zesty, politically incorrect philosophizing. The Kinky canon is a sort of a debauched variant of Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon stories, with an indiscriminately defecating cat thrown in to add a little atmosphere.
In the new book, Kinky the character is struck down by malaria and confined to his loft apartment for convalescing. There, while totally dependent on the Irregulars for his well-being (though the Marx Brothers would be more helpful), Kinky sees a crime committed in a nearby building. Or does he? Disease is causing him to experience different realities, and none of his friends believes a word he says. So it’s the reader who’s left to sit with Kinky, listening to his fever-induced monologues on subjects ranging from sickness to religion to the differences between cats and dogs. Ultimately, we learn what happened across the street, but in this outing the resolution of the mystery seems almost secondary. This story is all about Kinky.
The Prisoner of Vandam Street is Friedman’s most introspective work. Here he reveals himself to be, underneath the crusty, invective-spouting exterior, a man who still cares about people. You’d almost think he was running for governor.
The author reads at Davis-Kidd Booksellers, 6 p.m. March 22.
—Chris Scott
