Contemplating the state of things these days, some of us laugh because if we don’t, we’ll cry. Leave it to Carl Hiaasen, though, to make us laugh UNTIL we cry.
Hiaasen, who has long satirized Florida as a columnist for the Miami Herald and in 15 novels, mercilessly skewers the pervasive stupidity of politicians, billionaires, bigots and low-lifes (there is overlap there) in his latest, “Fever Beach.”
Center stage in this comedy of dumb is Dale Figgo, who can’t draw a swastika or spell Holocaust but devotes his spare time to tossing crude anti-Semitic messages onto the lawns of people who may or may not be Jewish. Figgo couldn’t get into the Proud Boys, so he founded his own hate group, Strokers for Liberty. (The name is one of many dirty jokes with which Hiaasen is liberal.)
Things get complicated for Figgo when he hits a homeowner with his truck, but he and sidekicks including Jonas Onus, who is determined to make up for missing the Jan. 6 Capitol riot and finally get on right-wing radio, plunge ahead in planning some big action of their own.
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Their enabler is Congressman Clure Boyette, who is running a reelection campaign that shouldn’t be so close when he gets wind of the Strokers and feeds money to Figgo for an election-day disruption. (Boyette is introduced “nude except for an ermine collar attached to a rhinestone leash, a Doberman muzzle, and snowshoes.” Later, it’s the snowshoes that will prove controversial.)
The labyrinthine plot of “Fever Beach” — which also includes a Habitat for Humanity-esque project called Wee Hammers, in which grade school kids are handed power tools to build a house — is much more complicated than can be summarized here. That’s not really an issue; it’s all very funny and almost as believable as things that have actually happened of late.
A familiar figure for Hiaasen fans is the hero of “Fever Beach.” Twilly Spree, the millionaire eco-vigilante introduced way back in “Sick Puppy,” is here to punish litterbugs, rein in bird-killing cats (bells! He puts bells on their collars!), sabotage predatory developers and, above all, thwart the Strokers in all their plans. He’s abetted by Viva Morales, a new partner in crime and love interest.
“Futile gestures that feel good at the time,” Twilly tells Viva. “That’s my weakness. Was blowing up a piece of machinery an original idea? Not at all. Did it change anything? Not one bit.” But “I do enjoy ruining a bad guy’s day.”
The engaging character of Twilly and his relationship with Viva, plus the addition of a heroic hit man and a whip-smart young prostitute named Galaxy, give “Fever Beach” the weight it needs to counter the crazy without dampening the humor.
Late in the book, someone asks, “How is this even happening?” It’s a question that most of those who opt to read “Fever Beach” have probably asked more than once.
If that’s you, read Hiassen’s crazy, relevant and crazy-relevant satire and laugh. But don’t laugh too hard or you’ll cry.
