Ten Little New Yorkers: A Novel by
Kinky Friedman
Love The Kinkster!
Kinky Friedman has always proven himself to be a master of the offbeat
and irreverent, and still manages to pull off a helluva whodunit in the
process. Now the Kinkster may have met his match in this superbly
crafted, fiendishly clever tale of a murderer whos methodically killing off
unsuspecting Manhattan men. Gallingly, all clues point toward
Kinky.Greenwich Village is the setting for Ten Little New Yorkers, a tale of
murder and mayhem as only Friedman can warble it and featuring his
usual suspects, including Ratso -- Dr. Watson to Kinkys singular Sherlock
Holmes. As the clues and bodies pile up and the cops strong-arm Kinky as
their man, he has to jump through hoops to find the real killer, all the while
maintaining his outrage and, of course, his innocence. The murderer may
be someone close to Kinky, which leads to a shocker of an ending that will
surely take Kinky devotees completely by surprise.With a wink and a nod
to Dame Agatha (as in Christie), after which all resemblance to those
classic mysteries fades, this is one of Friedmans most complex and

irresistible page-turners yet. Cunningly tentous issues of life, death, guilt,
innocence, love, loss, and the danger of false confessions, this is Kinky
Friedman at his wily, suspenseful, and sacrilegious best.
Personal Review: Ten Little New Yorkers: A Novel by Kinky
Friedman
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.
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