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Loading... Bad Chiliby Joe R. Lansdale
Completed 4/23, 3 stars. Enjoyed it but probably won't read more than one other in the series, Seems like half the male population of East Texas is gay and five stars with the repartee. Started to get tired of that. Too much. Why does everybody have to be a wise ***? I'm still not sure what Hap and Leonard do to make money. This was about gay porn, stealing grease (?), and I'm not sure what else. Interesting characters, I don't especially care for a woman with a mouth like Brett's no matter how hot she is. But a nice diversion, I guess..... This is a great entry in the Hap Collins/Leonard Pine series with Lansdale at the top of his witty game. I laughed out loud throughout this story, which included Hap being assaulted by a rabid squirrel and Leonard being "troubled" by a tick lodged in the most delicate of places. Hap and Leonard, looking to clear Leonard from a possible murder charge, investigate a blackmail scheme gone wrong and meet up with one of the baddest dudes they've tackled yet. Lansdale provides a healthy supporting cast to move the action along and keep the humor quotient high. Highly recommended. Hap Collins, Leonard Pine (4) Leonard and Hap are two of my favorite characters. Their interaction is great. I like the language they use and how they always get involved in extreme violence without losing their humour. no reviews | add a review
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The mystery is briskly handled -- an unusual plot played out in interesting ways -- but it’s safe to say that no reader familiar with Joe Lansdale’s other work is reading Bad Chili primarily for the chance to unravel the central puzzle. They’re reading it for the cheerfully profane, exuberantly sexual, sardonically witty working-class characters. They’re reading it for the lunatic set pieces like the squirrel attack that opens the book and the Kafka-esque discussion of health insurance that follows. They’re reading it for the evocations of East Texas in all its scruffy glory. They’re reading it for the main characters’ reflections on their world and their lives. And they’re reading for the mixture of dark, fatalistic, absurdist humor and sudden, brutal violence that Lansdale brings to every genre he works in.
This is not a book (or a series) to recommend, unread and unconsidered, to a friend or relative who “loves murder mysteries.” Lansdale is matter-of-fact about sex, death, class, race, and bodily functions in ways that would make your favorite aunt go pale . . . unless she put herself through college tending bar at an East Texas roadhouse. If, however, you or someone you love is wondering what the literary love-child of Carl Hiaasen and Dennis Lehane might look like, here’s your chance. (