Carl Hiaasen, Basket Case
A whodunit which is actually a sendup of working at a modern newspaper. Fun read. Hiaasen in the NYTimes:
The Florida in my novels is not as seedy as the real Florida. It’s hard to stay ahead of the curve. Every time I write a scene that I think is the sickest thing I have ever dreamed up, it is surpassed by something that happens in real life.
Adam Gopnik wrote a good NYer piece on Florida crime fiction in 2013:
The cop or, more frequently, the reporter isn’t trying to restore chivalry to a world gone corrupt. It’s too far gone already. He is merely trying to assert ordinary decency in a world gone crazy: women shouldn’t be abused; nature shouldn’t be endlessly exploited; cockroaches shouldn’t be placed in yogurt cups to scam the justice system for payouts. Where in the noir tradition crimes took place, melodramatically, at night, here they take place, matter-of-factly, in the middle of the day.
I always wonder whether Hiaasen follows @_FloridaMan on Twitter.
Filed under: my reading year 2014
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