As Kinky as It Gets

By DAVID SILVERBERG

Kill Two Birds and Get Stoned
By Kinky Friedman.
221 pages. William Morrow. $25.

Call him the Kinkster. Everyone else does.

You can also call Richard "Kinky" Friedman the master of the detective comedy and the original Texas Jewboy. In the 1970s while he rocked stages as the bandleader of Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys, his sharp wit and anything-goes punch lines produced country hits such as "They Don't Make Jews Like Jesus Anymore." After his musical group disbanded, he migrated to the world of literature, authoring 16 hilarious capers peppered with a rare mix of laughs and thrills. The Texan's alter ego and chosen narrator, also named Kinky Friedman, is a bachelor detective prone to swigging whiskey, lighting cigars, and solving mysteries from the comfort of his New York City apartment.

In Kill Two Birds and Get Stoned, his latest novel and first stand-alone work, Friedman introduces one-hit-wonder writer Walter Snow and two troublemakers that not only enliven the novelist's daily routine, but also break his writer's block.

Although the Kinkster scoffs at mainstream success, the New York Times recently praised Kill Two Birds, and Friedman has been the biographical subject of a DVD ("Proud to Be an Asshole From El Paso") and book (The Kinky File by M. Allen Swafford). The Kinkstermania is unsurprising–followers of Friedman's work embrace his zest, his contagious passion for life, and his never-ending devotion to splitting sides.

Let's start with the Texas Jewboys. What is most memorable about those years?

The band had a short wingspan, but it reached a lot of the right people, creative people. One of those was Lyle Lovett, who first began writing songs listening to the Texas Jewboys. I also met Pat Conroy in San Francisco at that time, and he signed one his books to me, writing: "To Kinky, may the whole world want to be a member of the Jewboys."

Overseas countries loved the Jewboys. It's amazing how the old songs do when we toured in Australia or Europe. Then, I had two audiences–fans of the Jewboys and fans of my books. Now, of course, the larger of the two is the book-lover crowd.

You often poke fun at your Jewish heritage in your books. Does being Jewish open a new comedic door for you?

In this book, Walter Snow is very much a Jewish person without being literally Jewish. He's cautious about living life to the fullest and at first skeptical about the modern merry pranksters who throw caution to the wind. Instead of being an observer of life, Walter decides to be a participant.

Another Jewish aspect in Kill is the troublemakers, and a lot of Jews have made trouble, from Jesus to Lenny Bruce to Irv Rubin. The people who stir the putrid pot of history are important. The lesson is to find what you like and let it kill you, as Walter discovers.

I don't have family except ones that embrace me, like the [President George W.] Bush and [Willie] Nelson family. I'm pretty much an orphan in this world. Being Jewish keeps me on the outside of the country club looking in, which is not a bad place for an author or human being. Mainstream signifies nothing. I've noticed that whatever has been loved by millions of Americans hasn't been all that great. I resist mainstream by choice of material and I constantly like to break every rule I can. I don't care about questions like: Will New Yorkers understand this country reference? Will country fans understand this Jewish reference? My audiences are extremely diverse. At a Kinky signing, you'll see Orthodox Jews next to old ladies next to punk rockers, and that means those are readers–not an audience.

Your readers love your humor, and critics have dubbed you the "new Mark Twain" and "a cure for the blues." How do you manage to keep your humor fresh and your one-liners snappy in a 200-page novel?

I concentrate on writing between the lines, and I realize different people get different things out of my books. I believe humor is hard to find these days. Try to compile a list of contemporary humor novelists that steadily deliver the goods; the greats are either dead or dying.

Humor is important because it sails dangerously close to truth. My mystery books are really not fiction, everything is real, right down to the lesbian dance class. Strangely, Kill is taking off although stand-alones are usually destined for failure. F. Scott Fitzgerald wasn't wrong when he said there's no second acts in America. Once you lose fame and success, you can never get it back, and the public won't let you be known for anything else. In Kill, Snow runs around with troublemakers, which is what we should all do. That becomes the spice of his life, the humor he needs. What's the point of living wearing adult diapers?

In Kill, you compose an introspective passage on writing, from Walter's perspective: "Love, happiness, satisfaction, peace of mind would all have to take a distant backseat to pushing little words around in various and sundry permutations, whilst I prayed to what gods there existed above basement apartments to give me one good line and then to give me another." Does that relate to your own experiences?

In the end, talent is its own reward. The greatest work is done accidentally and I take that as a given. I have chosen these cards and I play them well. It's better than being trapped in loveless marriage, or going to a spiritually-grinding job.

Happiness is the enemy of creation. No happy American created anything great, including Walter Snow. Look at blues. The new book isn't all one-liners. Kill is a tragedy of sorts, although presented in a funny way. I'm probably the only guy these days quoting Walpole but he said something perfect: "The world's a comedy to those who think. A tragedy to those who feel."