Blast from the Past [Paperback]

First was Kinky going back home to Texas to fight the bad buys on the stomping grounds of his youth instead of the mean streets of New York. Then we had an entry featuring Willie Nelson as one of the main characters (Roadkill is still the best of the series, too). Now, in Blast From The Past, Kinky's back on Vandam Street...circa 1979. That's right, a blow to the head sends the Kinkstah's memory banks through the years to his first amateur detective work ever. And, to make things even loonier, counter-culture hero (and real life Friedman pal from back in the day) Abbie Hoffman is the center of much of the action.

For those of you who've never read a Kinky Friedman book this is not a good place to start. By this point in the series it's understood that the reader "gets" Kinky's world and the characters in it. If you're not familiar with the skidmark-covered couch over at Ratso's place or the unusual greeting that they get every time they enter Big Wong's restaurant...well, go back a few books and catch up first. Many of the recurring points of interest in the series have their origins explained in this volume as well, but you have to know what the big deal is about.

The jump back in time also sends the meter of un-PC behavior skyrocketing. The Kinkster is eyebrows-deep in the 'ole Peruvian Marching Powder and has just discovered Jameson's whiskey. It's a high old time (and it opens with Kinky in bed with a strange girl). It's grand fun and proof that there's still plenty of new ground to explore in the series. Or at least plenty of off-color jokes, humorous antecdotes, sex, drugs, and a teensy bit of crime-solving. My faith in this Texas Jewboy is as strong as ever.

Alas, Blast from the Past did not live up to the creative, humorous standard the Kinkstah has established for himself. I found it to be repetitive and sometimes stale as a fifty cent stogie. I think it's time to rotate the tires on this bad boy and pump some gas into the fuel injector. Kinky's too good a writer to allow his novels to fall so flat. If this was indeed the product of a ghost writer, maybe that person should make like a ghost and get the Boo out of the industry.

I still have faith and eagerly await the next opus. I even have the Jameson waiting by the easy chair.

As usual, Steve Rambam is all business, Ratso is his typical wisecracking cheapskate self, and McGovern drifts in and out of the plot as a hard-drinking, loud Irishman with little to do. The action begins on Ratso's couch with Kinky in the arms of "Judy", although it is not specified whether we are dealing with Uptown Judy or Downtown Judy from Elvis, Jesus and Coca Cola fame. Abbie Hoffman a.k.a. Barry Freed drifts into the picture, and the mystery of the novel involves someone who is apparently trying to kill either Hoffman, Kinky or Judy. A parallel plot line, which Kinky suspects may be related to the first, involves the appearance of a man Judy believes to be her deceased Vietnam veteran husband.

As in all Friedman books, the plot is just there as an amusing excuse to throw the various characers together for some good-natured fun. It probably has more substance to it than Spanking Watson, (at least we weren't treated to two dozen conversations with a mute cat), but overall I agreed with some of the other reviewers who thought this effort was a little empty. The characers don't get along, so there is little sense of camaraderie, and you get tired of reading about Kinky's agressive appetite for "Peruvian marching powder". I thought the funniest scene was one in which Kinky, getting ready for a date with Judy, unknowingly brushes his "moss" with a toilet brush at McGovern's apartment. I give it 3 stars, an interesting diversion but instantly forgettable.