Spanking Watson

Kinky Friedman’s most recent novel is called Spanking Watson [NY, Simon & Schuster, 1999]. If you’re not familiar with his canon of work, either the novels or the questionable country music career as a singer and songwriter, then this might not be the best book to pick up. It helps to have a solid grounding in certain historical, biographical, and musical facts. Kinky Friedman is a real person. He’s performing next week at a local pub, and I intend to see him. He’s also a sick, demented, embittered individual, if you take his work to literally. Otherwise, he’s just funny as all hell. The nominal plot line, which can sometime stretch a little thin, amount to the protagonist, a character with the same name as the author, is bored one night so he sets a number of characters into action on a made up problem. “It’s just possible that all of us are fiction characters in some perverse comedy that never did much box office.” (p. 59) His one liners, thoughtful asides, and the general tone of the book reflect a certain attitude than can combine the best — and worst — of a provincial Texas attitude. It’s even better when this attitude is portrayed against a New York skyline, which s the setting for the book. The philosophical questions get deeper, the jokes are up to form, and what’s particularly nice is with one exception, the jokes are not any that I’ve found floating around on the net. It’s either refreshing or repulsive, depending on how one can laugh at homophobic jokes, penis jokes, body noises, Jewish jokes, Gentile jokes, and the current political situation(s). This is his twelfth book, supposedly a mystery. And the ending, true to form,is a surprise, the clues are obvious, but it’s still got a little twist. The interior running monologue, though, has sharpened over the years. It’s a little more caustic, yet it’s also improved. The wit is as sharp as ever. Besides, any author who make a cat a central character is certainly worthy of a read. It’s not a long book, but it’s just right for one evening’s entertainment. It’s like a long series of one liners all drawn loosely together with a little plot, just enough to keep me happy. And to understand the main character, the one with the same name as the author, it would appear that he hasn’t had a good day since 1974.