By: Carl Hiaasen Publisher: Vision Average Rating: Binding: Mass Market Paperback Label: Vision Number of Items: 1 Number of Pages: 528 Publication Date: March 01, 2001
Product Description: Carl Hiaasen's characters ride and flail on little verbalhurricanes, and his literary storm shows no signs of dying down. Sick Puppyshares Dave Barry's giddy gift for finding humor in South Florida horrors, and a bit of Elmore Leonard's genius for pitch-perfect dialogue spouted smartly bycriminals who are dumb as stumps. The title of Hiaasen's eighth novel could apply to mostof its characters, but it chiefly refers to an ebullient Labradorretriever named Boodle and the millionaire eco-terrorist Twilly Spree. Let's just say thatTwilly has a singular affliction: poor anger management in the face of environmental irresponsibility. When he spots Boodle's owner, PalmerStoat, tossing litter from a car, Twilly goes to Stoat's home and removes the glass eyeballs from the animals that the bloated lobbyist had shot and mounted on his walls. Boodle gulps down the eyeballs, sustaining no small amount of digestive difficulties.Soon Boodle and Stoat's wife, Desie, are fugitives from Florida'snature despoilers (who include the Governor, a "gladhanding maggot," theamusingly slimy Stoat, the human bulldozer Krimmler, the cocaine-importer-turned-developer Clapley, and the hit man Mr. Gash,who's fond of sex with multiple beach bimbos in iguana-skin sex harnesses tothe tunes of The World's Most Blood Curdling Emergency Calls).Desie, who has a knack for calamitous romance, is smitten with Twilly, buturges him not to kill any litterbugs or pelican molesters: "Jail would not begood for this relationship." What keeps pure farce at bay in a novel thatromps with the abandon of a scent-crazed Labrador is the otherwise charming Twilly's creepy edge of implacable fanaticism. And what redeems the funny/ugly violence from clich+¬ is its colorful badguys (they're as iridescent as oil slicks), Hiaasen's excellent wit, and the music ofhis prose. To evoke a drunk asleep on the beach, he adds a pungent detail:"a gleaming stellate dollop of seagull shit decorated his forehead."Hiaasen is not unflawed. His original eco-terrorist character,ex-Florida governor Clinton "Skink" Tyree, seems like an interloper from theearlier books. But Hiaasen's the master of madcap ensembles (which is partlywhy the star-vehicle film of his fine book Strip Tease flopped).And even when you can see a chase scene's denouement coming for a beachfront mile, each paragraph packs descriptive delights to keep you going at breakneck pace.--Tim Appelo
Amazon.com Review: Carl Hiaasen's characters ride and flail on little verbal hurricanes, and his literary storm shows no signs of dying down. Sick Puppy shares Dave Barry's giddy gift for finding humor in South Florida horrors, and a bit of Elmore Leonard's genius for pitch-perfect dialogue spouted smartly by criminals who are dumb as stumps. The title of Hiaasen's eighth novel could apply to most of its characters, but it chiefly refers to an ebullient Labrador retriever named Boodle and the millionaire eco-terrorist Twilly Spree. Let's just say that Twilly has a singular affliction: poor anger management in the face of environmental irresponsibility. When he spots Boodle's owner, Palmer Stoat, tossing litter from a car, Twilly goes to Stoat's home and removes the glass eyeballs from the animals that the bloated lobbyist had shot and mounted on his walls. Boodle gulps down the eyeballs, sustaining no small amount of digestive difficulties.
Soon Boodle and Stoat's wife, Desie, are fugitives from Florida's nature despoilers (who include the Governor, a "gladhanding maggot," the amusingly slimy Stoat, the human bulldozer Krimmler, the cocaine-importer-turned-developer Clapley, and the hit man Mr. Gash, who's fond of sex with multiple beach bimbos in iguana-skin sex harnesses to the tunes of The World's Most Blood Curdling Emergency Calls). Desie, who has a knack for calamitous romance, is smitten with Twilly, but urges him not to kill any litterbugs or pelican molesters: "Jail would not be good for this relationship." What keeps pure farce at bay in a novel that romps with the abandon of a scent-crazed Labrador is the otherwise charming Twilly's creepy edge of implacable fanaticism. And what redeems the funny/ugly violence from cliché is its colorful bad guys (they're as iridescent as oil slicks), Hiaasen's excellent wit, and the music of his prose. To evoke a drunk asleep on the beach, he adds a pungent detail: "a gleaming stellate dollop of seagull shit decorated his forehead."
Hiaasen is not unflawed. His original eco-terrorist character, ex-Florida governor Clinton "Skink" Tyree, seems like an interloper from the earlier books. But Hiaasen's the master of madcap ensembles (which is partly why the star-vehicle film of his fine book Strip Tease flopped). And even when you can see a chase scene's denouement coming for a beachfront mile, each paragraph packs descriptive delights to keep you going at breakneck pace. --Tim Appelo
Fun moments, but I feel cheated This book started so well. It grabbed me right out of the gate, it made me laugh, and it kept me turning the pages. But in the end, I felt ripped off. Not a single major character changed throughout the course of the story.
When I read a book, I want to see the main character grow; or at least learn something about themselves or the world around them. 450 pages is a lot of space for an author to make that happen. But, based on where all of the primary characters in this story wound up, the book could have just as well ended after the first scene.
Sharp commentary and comedy What a gift Hiaasen has given us...Florida and all the beauty of nature and corruption of man presented in a VERY funny book revolving about the real estate development of Toad Island. As others have said, the cast of characters are way over the top and the action starts when an eccentric eco-defender sees a self-centered lobbyist litter out of his car. His fury turns into stalking, dog-napping and a romance with the wife. The lobbyist is working hard on getting a bridge funded to expedite the development of the island, but, wait...not if our eco-hero, Twilly Spree has anything to do with it. The plot twists back and forth, who will win in the end, and how. Well, justice prevails, but not as expected. This is no real happy ending book, and several bad guys get their just desserts. That was a bit of a downer, since no one seemed to be redeemed. So, if you are looking for funny social commentary and like to know more about the political process and eco-system of Florida, set right up and read this one.
Read these themes before, in much more textured and novel form... One part distilled Floridian weirdness, one part Kurt Vonnegut simplicity and wit, and one part John Irving fringe sexuality, the story gains speed but never takes off, trapped in a house of literary echoes done much better elsewhere. A hitman who loves 911 calls put to classical music? A land developer without a conscience? A painfully ideological twentysomething in search of love via an older woman? These are familiar extremists without extreme texture, and none of them benefit from bumping into the others. The strokes are too broad for any real humanity; only those with a Florida address could find earnestness in this lukewarm survey of the state's primary players.
Same-Old-Same-Old Florida's a big state -- about 16 million people and you can't mention them all in a 300-page book. So why not mention their hometowns?
That's what Hiassen is up to in Sick Puppy, and it reminds me of nothing so much as a church newsletter that tries to get the congregation's attention by shoe-horning everybody's name into it. Like "personalized" junk mail, such as from Publisher's Clearing House.
Sure, this is a story with a lot of motoring in it and naturally the characters have to stop for gas and stay somewhere at night, and, true, one town name is as good as another, so why not use real town names? Right. But then how come it sounds so much like he's trying to drum up business? Making sure, no matter what happens, at least the book will sell in Florida -- at least to the imbeciles that will buy it because their town's name is mentioned.
Maybe all of this stuff is like this. Maybe all of those creepy New England towns Stephen King writes into his stuff really exist.
Really, this Hiassen stuff is the same-old-same-old. Every character is a "character", not one of them the slightest bit believable, and, naturally, each of them either good or evil. I don't know about you, but I've long, long been weary of the my-kooky-family-ha-ha-ha threads of James Thurber and John Irving.
And what's strangest of all -- for a reasonable and even-tempered person like me -- Twilly's homicidal environmentalism is treated with sympathy. I'm not sure if this is a ham-fisted attempt at moral ambiguity or I'm just so hopelessly square that I just don't get it -- that nothing, absolutely nothing, is more important than the "environment" (and I say "environment", but I mean "the whims of the idle and stupid: the Eco-kooks"). Maybe even noting that Twilly blew up a bank or killed a trash-dumper is nitpicking. This spoiled crackpot is one of the most revolting figures I've read about in fiction, and I'm hard to alienate.
It made me smile I smiled as I read this book. I laughed out loud many times. I liked it. My review isn't much to go on, but it's my opinion and when you boil down all the crap in all reviews, whether good or bad, that's all they are...just subjective opinions. My opinion is all that matters...trust me. HA!
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