By Carl Haiiasen
Carl Haiiasen writes fun, bouncy thrillers set in Florida. Each one is entertaining, each one illustrates some of the sleaze that besets the state, each one is exactly the same as all the rest.
His key character is Skink, the former Governor of Florida, who attempted to clean up the state capital, and instead was ousted from power, brutally disillusioned, and now lives a happy homeless life in the Keys, eating roadkill and saving lost souls.
Skink's particular hatred is reserved for property developers, those that bulldoze virgin wilderness in favour of high end housing, but any pretty girl roaming the everglades can pretty much count on his help. Generally creatively violent help.
Previous books have seen Skink sucked into the murky worlds of plastic surgery, strip clubs and the smuggling of endangered wildlife. It's a bit of a surprise that it's taken a dozen books to get round to paparazzi and the celebrity culture that professes to hate them and yet would be lost without the publicity they bring, but it has, and here it is.
It's hard really to say anything incisive about the book. The characters are paper thin, the plot holds next to no surprises, its just a matter of wondering exactly what mayhem Skink will get up to this time.
In this one, there's not even all that much mayhem. Someone gets (deservingly) assaulted with a sea urchin, and a suitcase is at one point set on fire, but either Haiiasen is just going through the motions or I've lost the urge. Either way the thrill is lacking.
