Product Description

Who would slap an Indian curse on a good ol' boy like country singer Willie Nelson? Probably the same person who's been firing shots into Willie's hotel room and sending nasty notes promising the cowboy crooner a one-way ticket to the big rodeo in the sky. Could it have something to do with the medicine man who got run over by Willie's tour bus one dark night? If anyone can find out, it's ace troubleshooter and well-known troublemaker Kinky Friedman--on the road again in his tenth wickedly funny, off-the-wall mystery caper.

Get Kinky on the Web: www.kinkyfriedman.com

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #303787 in Books
• Published on: 1998-08-25
• Released on: 1998-08-25
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 256 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9780345416322
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

From Library Journal
You gotta hand it to the guy: not only does the New York Times call Friedman the "funniest...most politically incorrect country singer turned mystery writer" alive, but he makes Bill Clinton laugh. In his latest mystery, a member of Willie Nelson's band is shot by someone gunning for Nelson himself, and Friedman (as protagonist) must investigate.
Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Booklist
Friedman's annual mystery novels have always served more as platforms for the rantings of a true eccentric--that is to say, vehicles for Friedman's brand of non sequitur topped off by his personal blend of kinky logic and Groucho Marxism ("horseshit cocktail chatter," he calls it)--than as honest-to-goodness detective stories, so trying to figure out their plots is seldom worth the trouble. Nevertheless, the tenth mystery starring Kinky as Kinky, is his best in years, largely due to the guest-star appearance of singer Willie Nelson, "the last living folk hero in America." Someone seems to have placed an Indian curse on the "Red-Headed Stranger," and while on the road again in his infamous bus, the Honeysuckle Rose, Willie has to dodge the IRS, a few ex-wives, and a bullet or two. During the course of this stretcher, Willie and Kinky down a lot of Jameson and smoke a lot of cigars (and reefer) as well as engage in many pointless conversations with Kinky's inscrutable cat. Kinky's kvetching mope is an excellent counterpoint to Willie's Zen Texan. Let's hope we see them paired again. Benjamin Segedin

From Kirkus Reviews
Asking whether a Kinky Friedman story is too self-indulgent is like asking whether the Sahara Desert is a mite too dry. But you have to wonder about the Sage of Vandam Street's tenth case, which wobbles from a spectral conversation with the Gypsy in Kinky's bathroom mirror to a Greenwich surprise party to a stint as ``America's guest'' about Honeysuckle Rose, the funky tour-bus home of country singer Willie Nelson--that Willie Nelson, at least in the same way The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover (1996) was about that Al Capone and J. Edgar--before declaring its intentions. To make a long story short (something the Kinkster would sooner excuse himself for profanity than do), ever since Honeysuckle Rose ran down a drunken medicine man somewhere in Arizona, Willie's been plagued by presentiments of his own death. Somebody calling himself The Green Arrow is taunting him with threatening notes; he's received an evil medicine bundle courtesy of Native Americans who aren't even native to Arizona; and the bundle has vanished only to reappear in the Niagara Suite of the Buffalo Holiday Inn, where somebody has shot Ben Dorsey, the valet/caretaker who looks a lot like his boss. Can Kinky and his Village Irregulars change the oil in Willie's karma before the pan runs as dry as the aforementioned Sahara? The mystery (what there is of it) fizzles, as usual, but that doesn't keep Kinky from being as funny, sad, and blasphemous as ever while laying down another peerlessly cosmic paranoid fantasy without ever getting worked up about it. -- Copyright ©1997, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.

Customer Reviews

Yaaaayyyy! Kinky discover what a plot is again!
Read the Kirkus Review for the story summary, so I'll cut to the chase here. Kinky tells a lot of road stories about Willie Nelson, Tom T. Hall ("loved all his songs and both his melodies") and offers a ribald quote from Kris Kristofferson about Farrah Fawcett-Majors that will make you spit milk through your nose. These stories make "Roadkill" a far more entertaining book than "The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover" in which he seemed to spend far too much time talking about himself. Kinky is capable of spinning a mystery plot -- "A Case of Lone Star" is still his best -- but "Roadkill" shows Kinky can be ribaldly funny, still capable of making the inner 13-year-old boy on some of us laugh out loud

The kinkster is back to please his fans &outrage his critics
Talk about being in a funk (and not being George Clinton). Kinky Friedman's career as the New York City Sherlock Holmes is going no where; his love life has no pulse; and when he looks into a mirror, he sees a street corner philosopher mouthing trivia B.S. staring back at him. Kinky realizes that it is time to put the show on the road to regain his mental health. When his old friend Willie Nelson invites him to go on tour with the band, the Kinkster feels that his life has turned around. However, from almost the minute Kinky enters the surreal world of Willie, it is obvious that something troubles the country legend. Everyone on tour expects Kinky to find out what has upset Willie's karma and fix it.

After a little careful sleuthing and a talk with Willie to confirm his findings, Kinky realizes that the man believes that he has been cursed by an Indian shaman and is waiting to die. The Kinkster is determined to pull his friend out his funk, but before he can begin, a band member takes a bullet intended for Willie. Indian curse or something more mundane like a person with a grudge, the private detective plans to ferret out the truth.

In a world slowly being bored to death, thank goodness Kinky Friedman periodically writes an entertaining novel that brightens up the mood of the readers. The Kinkster's irreverent humor, political mumbo jumbo, and off-colored jokes are a joy to behold. Though some mystery fans might find ROAD KILL a shade offensive, Kinky delights in being taken stone cold serious as a comedic writer writing a droll mystery.

Harriet Klausner

A Cosmic Romp
Kinky Friedman, the self-proclaimed Last of the Landless Texas Jewish Singing Cowboys, is in a deep-purple funk in his loft in Noo Yawk City, despite heroic efforts of his friends and his cat. Willie Nelson is scraping the emotional bottom, too, thinking his tour bus has killed a native American medicine man and someone's trying to kill him. Put these two chess-playing cowboys together and you have the funniest, yet gripping, mystery novel of the year. Willie invites Kinky to travel with him to try to find the killer, who Kinky suspects is one of Willie's 83 ex-wives. Kinky finds a new bunch of buddies, Ben, Booger, Gator, and two cigar-smoking, wise-cracking native Americans, who, along with his Village Irregulars, to help hi sift the facts from the road grit. Kinky's inimitable use of a good plot as a springboard to literary, social, political, and philosophical musings continues to illustrate his broad grasp of literature and history. His anecdotes about celebrities in the entertainment business provide an extra spark. So, here's Kinky at his best, on a cosmic romp across the country with the legendary Red Headed Stranger. Don't miss this one! This book elevates Kinky from the cult status he has enjoyed. Lookout for the best seller lists!