Native Tongue Review
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There was a time when Joe Winder cared about things. He used to be a reporter, digging up dirt on the bad guys of South Florida. But after some colorful experiences at his last couple of jobs, Joe finds himself writing less-than-truthful press releases at the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills, covering up the antics of one of the worst of the bad guys.

When the two rare blue-tongued mango voles that the Kingdom had been protecting from extinction are stolen from the park, however, Joe starts digging in places that people don’t want him digging. The trail leads him to a militant old environmentalist and her hired crooks, the Mafia, and a crazy one-eyed fugitive who just happens to be the former governor. And his girlfriend, Nina, who works for a phone sex hotline, just doesn’t get it—so she moves out to pursue her dreams.

But the more he digs—and the more people try to keep him from digging—Joe learns that he’s starting to care again. He cares about what really happened to the voles—and the doctor who was found dead shortly after their disappearance. He cares about the destruction of his favorite fishing hole. And he’s determined to do something about it.

Native Tongue contains every bit of masterful cynicism that readers expect from Carl Hiaasen. It’s quirky and complex—and more fun than a ride on the Amazing Kingdom’s Wet Willy. Hiaasen is an evil genius when it comes to creating eccentric characters and letting them run loose, wreaking havoc on South Florida. After reading Native Tongue, I’ve once again furthered my belief that you just can’t go wrong with Hiaasen. If you’re looking for a bizarre thrill ride of a novel, look no further.

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