Roy has most definitely arrived in Carl Hiaasen’s Florida.
Andrew Yancy—late of the Miami Police and soon-to-be-late of the Monroe County sheriff’s office—has a human arm in his freezer. There’s a logical (Hiaasenian) explanation for that, but not for how and why it parted from its shadowy owner. Yancy thinks the boating-accident/shark-luncheon explanation is full of holes, and if he can prove murder, the sheriff might rescue him from his grisly Health Inspector gig (it’s not called the roach patrol for nothing). But first—this being Hiaasen country—Yancy must negotiate an obstacle course of wildly unpredictable events with a crew of even more wildly unpredictable characters, including his just-ex lover, a hot-blooded fugitive from Kansas; the twitchy widow of the frozen arm; two avariciously optimistic real-estate speculators; the Bahamian voodoo witch known as the Dragon Queen, whose suitors are blinded unto death by her peculiar charms; Yancy’s new true love, a kinky coroner; and the eponymous bad monkey, who with hilarious aplomb earns his place among Carl Hiaasen’s greatest characters.
Here is Hiaasen doing what he does better than anyone else: spinning a tale at once fiercely pointed and wickedly funny in which the greedy, the corrupt, and the degraders of what’s left of pristine Florida—now, of the Bahamas as well—get their comeuppance in mordantly ingenious, diabolically entertaining fashion.
Cuervo is a pampered Nicaraguan moneyman, funding a guerrilla war from his cushy Miami penthouse. Sixto is his hulking, pistol-packing attendant, whose job satisfaction is on the wane. When an aging mobster enters their lives with a promise to help the rebel cause—with a planeload of chickens originally intended for voodoo sacrifice—a tense situation turns combustible. From the wickedly funny mind of Carl Hiaasen comes "The Edible Exile," a raucous story of sleazeball nihilists, lovable thugs, and jungle-weary freedom fighters who collide in a battle of wills, ego, and the almighty dollar.
This cheeky tale, written twenty-five years ago, set aside, and recently rediscovered, is a time-capsule glimpse of Miami during the over-the-top 1980s, when everyone was on the make and gross excess was the order of the day. In an intriguing twist, Hiaasen had lost his original ending to the story. “So I decided to write a new ending,” he says. “As a friend said, ‘How often does a writer get the opportunity to collaborate with a younger version of himself?’”
"The Edible Exile" is a wild romp through Hiaasen Country, sure to appeal to the outlaw in all of us.
PRAISE FOR CARL HIAASEN
“A relentlessly sane voice in a hurricane of hypocrisy, hokum and hype.” —Dave Barry
“Does anyone remember what we did for fun before Hiaasen began turning out his satirical comedies?” —The San Francisco Chronicle
“Carl Hiaasen isn’t just Florida’s sharpest satirist—he’s one of the few funny writers left in the whole country . . . I think of him as a national treasure.” —Newsweek
“Hiaasen [is] a superb national satirist . . . A great American writer about the great American subjects of ambition, greed, vanity and disappointment.” —Entertainment Weekly
“No one writes about Florida with a more wicked sense of humor than Hiaasen." —USA Today
“Hiaasen’s wasteland is as retributive as Cormac McCarthy’s, but funnier. . . . [His] pacing is impeccable, and the scenes follow one another like Lay’s potato chips.” —The New York Times Book Review
“Recalls Twain and Chandler in its mingling of the cultured and the coarse … The funniest writer around.” —Sunday Times of London