Customer Reviews

Ten Little New Yorkers: A Novel

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3 star:		(2)
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The Kinkster is having a really bad patch. Losing his cat has sent him into a sliding depression. He doesn't care about much of anything. Out of concern for his mental health, his friends convince him that maybe he needs a vacation. After all, he has no cases, no cat, not even the lesbian dance class upstairs that historically provided at least something to gripe about. To Kinky, his life feels empty and he needs rejuvenation before he makes good on his suicide threat. So off he flies to Texas, to visit the Friedmans, happily communing with the four-legged ones at the family ranch.

Unfortunately, his respite doesn't last long. A few short mornings after his arrival, he answers the "blower" and discovers Sgt. Cooperman of the NYPD on the other end, demanding that he return to the Big Apple to explain a dead man's wallet in Kinky's apartment.

The good news is that, after submitting to the cops' interviews, he is still allowed to walk out of the police station unshackled. But four --- or is it five now --- bodies have shown up in the Village, and they just keep mounting. Beginning his own investigation into the murders not only serves as a self-defense against the growing suspicions of the police, but also gives him a case to work on. This might just save his life --- if, that is, he can stay out of jail.

Kinky's inquiries turn up some bizarre stuff, but no solid clues. "Now it truly was a ship of fools, I thought. Here were Ratso and I, playing at being Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, interviewing this Harry Felcher person, who was, to put it kindly, playing at being Judy Garland. Maybe none of us were playing at all. Maybe this was life and life only. Maybe the only thing that was real was the guy who had died in this building." His footwork, however, does set him off in the right direction and he soon formulates a theory, one that disturbs him a great deal. Even Kinky has trouble believing the conclusion to which his investigation leads him.

Every Kinky Friedman book has a deliciously irreverent tone. Each novel involves a new --- and occasionally absurd --- adventure, with a cast of characters even Seinfeld's producers would envy: Ratso, Rambam, McGovern, the cat, the puppethead and, last but not least, the lesbian dance class. Kinky, the author, always packs loads of fun into the space between the covers. This time, though, he has a little surprise for his readers. Okay, a big surprise. Be ready: TEN LITTLE NEW YORKERS ends spectacularly. For Kinky newcomers, read every one of his books, quickly, then grab this one. For die-hard Kinky fans (is there any other kind?), this is not just a must-read --- it's an absolutely-no-kidding-you've-really-gotta-read-it read.

--- Reviewed by Kate Ayers

In what our "master of destinies", and the true master of metaphors calls his last go at the murder mystery genre in favor of an opportunity to save the state of Texas from the traditional empty suits that call themselves "public servants", Kinky Friedman has crafted one of the most entertaining reads of his or anyone elses writing career. Ten Little New Yorkers has everything we have come to love and look forward to in a Kinky novel and much, much more.

It is a page turner in the truest tradition. One is drawn in at once, and happily trapped in Kinkyland the entire literary trip. It is at once poignant with Kinky's own brand of life's lessons, and at the same time crazy enough to hold the interest of the most discerning reader. His genius is as always his wordcraft, and a use of the language that will never be duplicated. There is a warmth in Kinky's prose that grabs you, and makes you think about where you are in your own life, where you've been, and where you are going. Where I'm going now is back to re-read this wonderful, thoughtful, and fascinating book.

Buy it. Treasure it. But don't share it with your friends. That would't exactly be a financial pleasure for the Kinkster!

On with the campaign! Good luck, Kinky, the state of Texas is way overdue for someone of your insight, and a common sense approach to government that would blow a refreshing breath of fresh air into those stale back rooms replete with political doldrums...and thoughtless dolts. Thank you.

Butch Huff

Kinky Friedman has been entertaining me for years until I read Ten Little New Yorkers. I found it very boring for nearly sixty pages before any mystery developed. Then inserting filler about other things maintained the boredom right to the end which was very upsetting. The culprit was pretty obvious from the very beginning of the mystery, and it was a pretty weak plot at that.
Kinky still has a way with words which always makes his writing fun to read. But even his wit couldn't maintain my interest... I just wanted to finish the book.
Yes, the ending was a hugh surprise, but I hope the Kinkster and his friend can rise above this mess. Perhaps he'll be motivated to return with a new adventure without the chaff!
Norm

I first saw Kinky Friedman on the Box in connection with his political ambitions in Texas. Imagine my surprise when I accidentally find some novels by the said Kinkster, and not just one or two. Any novelist described as "politically incorrect" has to be worth a try, and "Ten Little New Yorkers" was the choice.

The main character, (Kinky himself, no less), gets sucked into a bizarre case in which he is among the suspects for some brutal murders that have a sense of sickening creativity about them. Of course, like all things, the timing of it totally sucks. Kinky had left New York for a relax in Texas, only to get called back by the police, and his cat had also gone. Throw in some healthy doses of Kinky's wisdom and observations on just about every facet in life, (including taking a dump), and you have the makings of a quirky and entertaining read.

Kinky's turn of phrase is something that stood out to me personally, adding a sense of charm to his style of writing. At times, it was a bit taxing on the brain, (neither being Texan nor having set foot inside the USA), but overall I found it manageable. In fact, I learned a few new words, which is always good thing.

To sum up, I would have to say this was a good introduction to the world of Kinky Friedman. I like his style, and the story itself was good too. Not too cerebral, but enough meat to keep one lightly entertained. However, lightly entertained is about where it ends. For serious crime buffs, this will probably not hold its own against meatier authors. But it is fun, that is for sure.

You don't mind if I do something of a Kinky career retrospective, do you? I'll fit this book in there.

TEN LITTLE NEW YORKERS by Kinky Friedman

If you've read any of his novels, any at all, ask yourself how in the heck you describe the guy. It's a matter of sifting through superlatives, knowing they all apply, and hoping you chose the most accurate ones.

Kinky Friedman was a county and western musician who was probably too original for the establishment. Do you remember when Willie Nelson was too innovative for Nashville? A mere wisp of ganja smoke away, Kinky was singing a pro-choice song, and a song called "Homo Erectus," and a big ole pile of songs equally unfriendly to radio airplay. Damn intelligent lyrics.

The only hit to ever come out of Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys was "Lover Please" by Billy Swan, who was formerly a Jewboy. Don Imus listeners have quite probably heard Kinky's "They Ain't Makin' Jews Like Jesus Anymore."

After that, Kinky tried his hand at writing murder mysteries. The main character is some guy named Kinky Friedman, a former country musician turned amateur detective. This is the nineteenth book in what may well be the most unique and unforgettable series in the history of literature.

Keen insight. Brilliant word play. An honesty and utter disregard for political correctness that most authors only dream of, and that make me hope you Texans elect this guy as your next governor. An unforgettable cast of Village Irregulars and a tip of the ten-gallon hat to Sherlock Holmes. And cats! You'll always laugh and you'll always think.

In April, I wrote: "Kinky Friedman is my favorite novelist. If you've never read him, I suggest ROADKILL, or a trilogy including it, at your local library. After Kinky almost died, his fiction evolved, and you can see that in THE PRISONER OF VANDAM STREET. I haven't had time to read TEN LITTLE NEW YORKERS, which he wrote next and which is in our flat. But now he's also written some essays. The collection, entitled SCUSE ME WHILE I WHIP THIS OUT, is so perceptive and well written that I alternate between (as a reader) genuine appreciation and (as an essayist who'd like to be one of the best) much wailing and gnashing of teeth."

Well, I've read TEN LITTLE NEW YORKERS and will do so again later on. It might be his finest. It's damn sure a contender. Y'all get it. Then, if you live in Texas, vote for a man who inhaled and ain't afraid to tell ya straight.

Amateur private investigator Kinky Friedman is despondent because his cat is missing and he has no case to occupy his time. He also feels that his life is not going to get any better than it is, which makes him even more depressed. His friends convince him to go to his Echo Hill Ranch in Texas; which he does.

When he arrives at the ranch, he feels much better until his neighbor Winnie Katz calls to let him know that she found a wallet belonging to a Robert Scalopini, someone Kinky never heard of. He finds out the man was the fourth male killed in the Village in a week and a half. When the police learn about the wallet they make Kinky return to Manhattan to question him. As evidence at a fifth homicide points to Kinky the police tail him. When he loses the tail, a sixth murder occurs and the Kinkster has no alibi. Someone is framing him for the murders; Kinky has a case to work on to exonerating himself and finding the real culprit.

A Kinky Friedman novel is always a treat to read. His raunchy sense of humor, his quirky outlook on life and his love for his cat endears him to readers who hope he snaps out of his funk. It is exciting watching Kinky fall under police suspicion although he knows he is innocent but can't prove it; still he interestingly eliminates suspects. The climax of TEN LITTLE NEW YORKERS will come as a complete shock to fans of this series, making this one a must buy to find out who and why.

Harriet Klausner

See storyline above.

This was the typical Kinkster novel. With alot of his usual characters and their quirks, the hilarity ensues the way you come to expect. It's a quick read and no time is wasted. For some reason I don't think this is the end.

Recommended.

Sure, Kinky Friedman has made a spectacular yarn from mediocre mystery, with his laugh-out-loud humor, insightful character sketches (mainly of himself), and occasional heart-stopping philosophy. But what surprised me about Kinky was his ability to bring a tear to my eye. His eulogy of life-long friend and housekeeper Lottie Cotton was touching, sentimental, brilliant, and loving. And the creative inclusion of Texas death-row inmate Max Soffar's story is near-genius. There's a lot of "good stuff" in this book. Whether you're a New Yorker or a Texan, or something else, READ THIS BOOK.

It's clear that da Kinkstah's books have been losing steam the last few years. They kept getting shorter, and sadder. More chapeters devoted to dead friends and lost lovers. All worth the read, but increasingly unsatisfying compared to materpieces like Elvis Jesus and Coca Cola. This book, to be honest, is no exception.
So it was with mixed emotions that I found author Kinky Friedman killing off the detective Kinky Friedman in this novel. Sure, their paths have long diverged - the real Kinky has moved from Greenwich Village back to Texas and even Greenwich Village itself has moved on. The Village Irregulars have probably all lost their rent-controlled apartments and moved to Brooklyn and there's no way lesbian dance instructors or washed-up country singers could afford warehouse space. Keep hope alive though - there's no mention of a body, so Kinky Friedman the detective may just be resurrected one day when the real Kinky starts to miss him.