Frightening, feral, and funny, Flinch is a fast-paced noir set amid the frenzied freak show of Southern California. Tabloid journalist Jimmy Gage and his plastic-surgeon brother, Jonathan, have long had a twisted and sometimes nearly fatal rivalry, but the ante was upped when Jonathan recently married Jimmy’s ex. So when Jimmy begins to suspect that Jonathan is the serial killer known as The Eggman, he’s neither surprised nor displeased. What ensues is this harried and hard-edged whodunnit that involves everything from petty porn stars to WWF wannabes to gut-wrenchingly gruesome gangsters and gang lords. Flinch is an intricately plotted whirlwind of a tale that will grip you until the very last page.
I was born in South Florida, a tropical backwater rife with mosquitoes, flying cockroaches and the sweet stink of life. My youth was spent stealing science-fiction paperbacks from the local mini-mart and cutting tunnels through the palmetto thickets behind my house with a machete. Later, I regularly burned down those palmettos for the pleasure of seeing the fire trucks arrive, sirens blaring.
After earning degrees in Philosophy, Film-Making and Creative Writing, I thought that I would be happy as a college professor, writing dense, literary novels which I would assign to my students. I found, however, that being a professor was mostly a matter of going to meetings, and that I hated reading, let alone writing dense, literary novels. Instead, I went back to my first love, poker.
The next five years I gambled full-time, living in a high-crime area populated by starving artists, alcoholics, and drug dealers. I was comfortable there, and became friends with many people who would later populate my novels, the loveable, but dangerous sleazeballs as they have often been described. After a time, I got restless and used some of my winnings to start a punk rock magazine called The Rocket, where I interviewed the Clash, Elvis Costello, Iggy Pop, etc. The success of The Rocket got me a job as a feature writer for a daily newspaper in Southern California, where I took the adventure-and-new-money beat.
Over the next seven years I flew jets with the Blue Angels, drove Ferraris and went for desert survival training with gun nuts. More importantly, the newspaper taught me to train my eye and ear, to observe, to research, and how to use direct, concise language to create a character, and set a scene. The newspaper was a great gig but I wanted to write novels. I quit my day job.
My first novel, THE HORSE LATITUDES, (1991) was called the fiction debut of the season by Time magazine. It was, however, only May. I have since written seven more novels. My work has been described by the Washington Post as "Quentin Tarantino territory, with drugged-out and sometimes violent people in search of sensory overload, but what makes it all not just bearable, but often compelling, is Ferrigno's scorching wit and his relentless moral sense."
I love writing crime thrillers. At their best they are an honest portrayal of the human heart, within the context of love, humor, ambition, greed and betrayal. Just like life, the good guys are usually tainted, and the bad girls are smarter than anyone. While I can no longer understand a word of my undergraduate thesis on the philosophy of British logical positivist Ludwig Wittgenstein, thanks to researching my novels, I can steal a locked car within thirty seconds, effectively clear a jammed Mac-10 machine gun, and make crystal methadrine from ingredients found in any supermarket. I wouldn't have it any other way.
