It is delightful to encounter a book that, in addition to being an excellent read, strikes an especially responsive chord in the reader's mind. Such was the experience with Carl Hiaasen's THE DOWNHILL LIE, an entertaining and enjoyable saga about the midlife return to the frustrating and fascinating game of golf that many readers may have gone through in their lives. As one who gave up the sport in my late 20s, when spending hours on the golf course became difficult and I found time to return to the game in my mid-40s, the Hiaasen narrative brought back many memories and nods of recognition. Perhaps more important, it offers many laugh-out-loud observations that a wise and humorous writer shares with his audience.

Many will recognize the Hiaasen name as a newspaper columnist for the Miami Herald and the author of bawdy and entertaining novels set in the State of Florida that poke fun at contemporary issues of American life. A Hiaasen novel skewers politicians, businessmen, retirees, rednecks and countless other denizens of the "Sunshine State." He has applied this formula to more than a dozen bestselling fictional works.

Now the celebrated author has turned his wry humor inward. After a 32-year absence from the game that he first played with his father, Hiaasen, now a grandfather with bad hips and other equally bad appendages, decides it's time to return to the game he abandoned in his youth. Why? Because, as he ruefully acknowledges, "I am one sick bastard."

While he may be "sick," he is wonderfully funny. Any golfer will appreciate his observation about a fine-looking new set of irons, too beautiful to throw in anger after a bad shot. As he attempts to explain the golf handicap system, most golfers will nod in approval. But, just like Hiaasen, they really have no idea how that tell-tale number that appears after their name bears any relation to golfing reality. Reading THE DOWNHILL LIE is a reminder to every golfer of the various circles of the inferno that constitutes golf, from lessons to gadgets to ecstasy and occasional humiliation. He experiences it all and shares it with readers in a fashion that every golfer will understand.

Hiaasen, of course, is not just an average guy returning to the game of his youth. Indeed, his book allows him extravagances that the average golfer can only dream about. One day, in a moment of deep depression, he emails his friend, professional golfer and television commentator David Feherty. His tale of woe and torment results in Feherty sending him the latest model Cobra Driver and ultimately a second model after the first is not quite the correct club for Hiaasen's swing. For his effort, Feherty gets the back page of THE DOWNHILL LIE in the form of a complimentary blurb.

Every gadget purchased, every club and indeed some of the most expensive lessons in golf from the prestigious David Leadbetter Academy are chalked up to research for Hiaasen's book. I must admit to pangs of jealousy that he has really come up with the perfect scam to have someone else pay the price for satisfying his every golfing whim. That envy is assuaged by two facts: unlike Hiaasen I can't write, and nothing he does seems to help his golf game. Frustration fills the pages of THE DOWNHILL LIE, and because it is a golfer other than me suffering ignoble fate, I have to admit it is pretty funny.

I know Hiaasen will never read this review, but perhaps a friend will call it to his attention. Patience, Carl. Several years ago, just like you, I returned to the game I had abandoned. I struggled for a few years, but now at age 60 I am playing the best golf of my life. True, it is mostly attributable to equipment and the humility of moving up a set of tees, but it is improvement nonetheless and I am enjoying every minute of it!

THE DOWNHILL LIE is a perfect Father's Day gift for your golfing dad, or the book to take along on your next golfing trip. Those who have never suffered through golf hell will not understand Hiaasen's anguish, but the rest of us have a wonderful reminder that there are many out there equally frustrated and tortured by the game invented by drunken Scotsmen.

--- Reviewed by Stuart Shiffman

Millions of golfers could play like Tiger Woods only if they had his golfing skills. And millions of golfers who play and score like Carl Hiassen could write a book like this if they had his wit and writing skills.
Chuckling about Hiassen's antics on the links reduced my tension and I think was a contributing factor to one of my best games ever (right after I finished reading the book). But I will wait to see if this relaxing-Hiaaasen effect lasts before I recommend this amusing work also as a golf psychology/ self-help book.

I should have known. As a fan of Hiaasen, I should have realized that by leaving the reservation to write a book about his taking up golf again that he was walking out onto thin ice. As it turns out, he was trying to walk on water.

Several descriptions of this "book" come to mind. The one that occurs the most is "unreadable." It is not funny. It is poorly structured. It has no sense of story.

After several attempts to at least complete it, I have given up and last night it ended up in my trash compactor. I would give this effort NO STARS if Amazon allowed such a rating.

This book is one of the best golf related books I have ever read. I could not put it down! The author was so normal and honest and real that if you are a golfer who started playing golf again at an older age (40's) then you will really relate to his story. It is funny and just a great summer read!

Carl Hiaasen is one of the funniest writers ever. Given that both he and Dave Barry are South Floridians, one wonders if there's not something in the water that warped their DNA in a gut-splitting way. It's not possible to read "Lucky You" without constantly laughing, and marvelling at his ability to create weirder-than-life (or are they?) characters who parade through highly improbable (or are they?) sequences of events and relationships. He is also able to shift gears and write a masterpiece like "Hoot".

Having thoroughly enjoyed each of these, and a few others of his works, and having taken up golf late in life, I bought "Downhill Lie" looking forward to seeing myself skewered in it and having some good laughs.....but that was not to be. This book is a dreary explication of a diary he kept, and has all the earmarks of something written to pay the rent.

It's not a bad book, just dull. His passionate concern over what is happening to Florida comes through loud and clear. His description of "The Villages", the place shown over and over again on the Golf Channel ads, brings home the reality of what a monstrous overdevelopment it is, and the dirty little secret that "free golf for life" does NOT include the good courses at The Villages, only the ho-hum courses.

RECOMMENDATION: It's a decent read, but save it for when you've read every other book on your list. Read it at a library; buy it only if you are insistent on owning every book in the Hiaasen canon, and then only when it's on the books-for-a-buck remainder table.

This is a great book - for golfers...It's amazing to me how much of what Carl Hiaasen writes in his book that I can relate to. I'm a 53 year old "lady" golfer who has only been playing a little over 3 years. I have thought and said some of the very same things Carl complains about. Very enjoyable and laugh out loud reading...

I am a HUGE fan of Carl Hiassen. And I love to golf (or try to). This semi-diary of his return to golf unfortunately did not bring the same humor and spice that his novels provide. I'll read anything Hiassen writes so I had to buy this. But in the future I may stick to his novels. I'm afraid this book is his Mulligan.

I have played the game 65 years and read a lot of golf themed books but this one is about as weak as any I have read.It think the theme was to link his young son to golf, with the author in the middle, just as he was linked to his father. Too many @8x8! words with no purpose.

Save your money.

I have to admit at the outset that I am a huge Hiassen fan. I await each new book anxiously, and am rarely disappointed.
As a golfer for over thirty years, I found Carl's new book to be a delightful read. I actually laughed out loud on several occasions, and certainly understood the struggles he had with the ancient game. I would recommend this book to all golfers, and all Carl fans. If one is neither, then it is less likely to produce laughter or sympathy.
I have returned to the game after two surgeries, and his struggles are my struggles. I was a strong 7 handicap at one time, but my game is now much like Carl's. The occasional glorious shot brings me back, even with the double bogies and struggles to break 90. Similarly, I can hardly wait for each new Hiassen book, only there are no double bogies: only enjoyable reading.

Except for his children's books, I've read all of Hiaasen's novels, including the three he co-wrote with Montalbano. I'm a fan.

This is the first time one of his books disappointed me. I found 'The Downhill Lie' dull and uninteresting, full of very predictable 'golf torture' stories, and a far cry from the best of Hiaasen, e.g., the laugh-out-loud 'Sick Puppy'.

I've read everything He has ever written and thoughly enjoyed them all. But this book was unreadable, after just 20 pages I put it down and won't ever pick it up again. There is no story line, just his recollections of taking up golf again. DON'T buy it, even if you golf it's terrible.

Thirty-two years after giving up the game of golf, Carl Hiaasen finds himself playing golf during his free time from writing an article for Sports Illustrated's swimsuit issue. He plays well enough that when he returns home to Florida, he buys a set of second hand clubs. Thus begins a hilarious odyssey over 577 days. The Downhill Lie: A Hacker's Return to a Ruinous Sport, by Carl Hiaasen is an excellent book, whether you are familiar with Hiaasen's fiction or the game of golf. In any event, you will probably enjoy this book.

I was disappointed by Hiaasen's last piece of fiction, Nature Girl. With this book, he redeems himself. He is self-effacing, neurotic, and willing to try anything that the Golf Channel or a golf magazine will pitch. That latter point brings some of the funniest parts of the book, as he tries relaxation pills, necklaces, and items to help your swing. Time and time again, he is told to stop reading golf magazines, only to fall for the lure of quick solutions to his never-ending problems within the pages of said magazines. Much like the rest of us. Hiaasen writes about his experiences with the World Golf Village and the Leadbetter Golf Academy. Both of those destinations are high on the list of training facilities for hackers and Hiaasen gets a lesson from each. The commentary is pure Hiaasen.

This book restored my faith in Carl Hiaasen. On the surface, this book is about one man's return to golf. But throughout, you are presented with Hiaasen's trademark prose concerning Florida; the environment, rampant development, and politicians. There is also his need to reconnect with deceased father (an avid golfer). And as his golfing days march onward, his family starts to golf, which adds another layer of complexity to Carl's relationship with them, golf, and the reader. More than just a book on golf, this is Hiaasen at the top of his game. Even though his golf scores don't show it.

If you are an average golfer avoid this book like the plague. It is bad mojo, terrible karma, and a jinx. Hiaasen's efforts to take his game to the next level are hilarious and his usual observations on Florida politics and the environment just add to the fun. There is so much in the book that the hacker can relate to that it begins to work on your mind. After finishing the book I went out and shot eight strokes above my already feeble average following each occasional par with a triple bogey and adding new levels of frustration to my putrid game. I give Hiaasen credit for making me laugh, then ruining my day. It's the only golf instruction book or article that has ever affected my score.

In our own minds, playing the game of golf becomes the kind of titanic tussle that we have so often observed as Tiger, Phil, and Vijay fight it out on some tough course while we watch on television. In fact, when you play the Old Course at St. Andrews, you can hire a video crew to follow you around on the last few holes and provide commentary.

But the reality is far different. Most of us hit many more bad shots than good ones. The appeal of the game quickly becomes beating others in Nassau's abetted by our large handicaps. I came to think of golf's enduring appeal as being in part the opportunity for middle aged people to have their own Little League.

Usually, a club will put you together with those of similar ineptitude and you soon forget how bad you are. Being a hacker myself, I was once absolutely floored to watch Chi Chi Rodriguez (all 147 pounds of him) easily lofting shots onto a green 230 yards away from a deep bunker while shooting an advertisement on my home course. Now, I had never gotten onto that green in less than two shots from there (and not often in only two).

Years later, I had a chance to meet Chi Chi, and I told him how humbling it had been to watch him. He stared at me for one count and then said, "Now you know how I felt the first time I saw Tiger hit the ball."

Having played the game diligently (and poorly) for most of my adult life, I was curious about what it would be like to return to the game as Carl Hiaasen did in his 50's in order to write a book. I was immediately struck that all of the silliness that I had observed in myself and others was reflected in the book.

I've always found that observing the frustrations that others experience with golf to be hilarious (but I'm usually able to keep a straight face). Hiaasen makes the same observations about himself that I've often made about others. I admire his ability to see himself as others see him.

The trick with golf is to have a carefree attitude: You have more fun and you play better. Hiaasen has more trouble with achieving that emotional distance from his game while playing than he does getting out of a bunker. That overly self-critical attitude adds sourness to the book that would otherwise be totally hilarious.

You'll read very funny tales about new uses for clubs you've never considered, weird gadgets that don't work, unexpected things that can go wrong, and superstitious looks for omens. I think this book would have worked better as a series of essays about the silliness of golf obsessions and practices rather than recounting so much about his return to the game. The sections involving David Feherty were a complete stitch, and you could do a whole book about him . . . filled with wisecracks.

For those who are dyed-in-the-wool Carl Hiaasen fans, you'll be fascinated by his comments about the environmental implications of building golf courses and his reactions to the wild life he encounters.

The book ends on a positive note as his wife and son take up the game, and he recalls great moments spent with his father many years earlier.

There are a lot better golf books out there, but none that capture the experiences of the average frustrated golfer any better. It's like reading an autobiography in some ways (in fact, there's a story in here about hitting a fairway shot from a perfect lie that went 3 yards backwards . . . been there, done that).

Take dead aim!

This memoir and Franz Lidz's even wittier Fairway to Hell: Around the World in 18 Holes are the two funniest golf books I have ever read (and I have read just about every book written on golf). Curiously, Downhill Lie and Fairway were published almost simultaneously. Hiaasen does more than keep a diary about his midlife return to the game. It's a cleverly written and sometimes wistful look at golf, marriage, human nature and life. During his preparation (more than 500 days) for a country club tournament, Hiassen sinks a golf cart into a lake. He uses his golf clubs as a weapon against aggressive rats and takes "focus inducing" Mind Drive capsules. He sees an alligator sunning himself near a fairway as a good omen, but has a less-than-cosmic experience with a Q-Link, a pendant "that was said to hold marvelous powers." He brags about in his good scores, frets about the upcoming member-guest tournament at a Vero Beach, Fla., course, and amuses his golf instructors during lessons. He remembers his time playing golf with his father, and revels in his son's interest -- and talent -- in golf. But more often than not, Hiaasen turns his wit on himself, endearing himself to hackers young and old. If you enjoy Downhill Lie, you'll positively love Fairway To Hell. I highly recommend both.

Golfers and nongolgers alike can't help but be charmed by Carl Hiaasen's apologia on his return to the game after 32 years. I don't play myself, but am a great fan of Hiaasen, and found this book hilarious and charming. It's ok to step out of the comfort zone -- this reminded me of Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch, and I knew even less about soccer, er, football.

If you really really want to read a great golf book I suggest you pass on this dribble and read a classic like "The Match". It's indeed surprising that Hiaasen can make a living as a writer. I am hooked on golf books of all types but this is the first that was so prosaic and boring. And why in a golf book does the author insist about every 20 pages on penning a poltical editorial of his liberal world view?

I can recommend this book highly for those of you that have insomnia. Hiaasen's prose and content are so soporific that it will put you to sleep faster than doubling up on Ambien.

Carl Hiaasen was introduced to the game of golf by his father, who, to Carl's nearly life-long disappointment, was a very good golfer. On a whim that could be argued to be both mature and immature, he gave up the game in his early twenties because he wasn't able to improve. The Downhill Lie is the window through which we see his return to the game.

Hiaasen goes to many extremes to improve his game. He reads every piece of literature on the game and buys some hilarious info-mercial products that make lofty promises. He joins a golf course, buys new clubs (and more new clubs), takes lessons, re-engineers his swing, and ultimately enters a tournament.

For many reasons, which include his disposable income; his available free time; and that this became an assignment from his publisher, Hiaasen is able to go to greater lengths than most golfers who want to get better. But that doesn't mean those golfers, a category into which I fit, haven't thought about trying any or all of the things he did in the book. That contributes to the hilarious, but humbling nature of the book. We can laugh at his exploits as he does, and maybe we can learn some of the lessons he does as well.

This book is more than a diary of Carl Hiaasen's golf rounds. The Downhill Lie is a poignant commentary on why so many of us endure the constant frustrations associated with the game of golf. The author uses the comedy of his situation to show exactly why, when this game keeps knocking us down, we get right back up and make another tee time.

I recommend this book if you struggle with golf, or know someone who does (which I think is just about everyone, right?). This book will probably not help you be a better golfer, but at least you'll see you're not alone. If you aren't into the game yourself, and you've wondered why we torture ourselves the way we do, The Downhill Lie offers great insight. It was both funny and right-on-target portraying the mind of a golfer...or most golfers anyway. I really liked this book.

First, let me preface this by confessing my own golfing experience is limited to one class in high school where I became infamous for hitting the teacher in the head with a wiffle ball. Fortunately we were practicing with golfball-sized wiffle balls and not the regulation golfball, or the teacher might have required medical attention.

In addition, both my brother and father play golf in the Florida equatorial heat while dodging gators strategically sunning themselves near the many ponds and lakes of Florida golf courses. It's especially dangerous during gator mating season when either the male gator thinks you're trying to make time with his woman if you go after an errant ball, or the female gator thinks you're stealing one of her eggs. Good times.

Carl Hiaason has written a great book about golf. I don't play golf, but I loved this book and laughed aloud many times while reading it. His tip on getting rid of huge toads by chipping them into the neighbor's yard was worth the price of the book. For those of you complaining about his comments about growth in Florida, just take a drive from the west coast to the east on Alligator Alley and take a look at how Miami keeps creeping further and further into the Everglades. The is the ONLY EVERGLADES on the entire planet Earth, by the way. Yet still we must build, build, build on it.

You will not be disappointed with The Downhill Lie: A Hacker's Return to a Ruinous Sport. This book comes with waterfront property in Geritol Bay and membership in their country club with golf course designed by Hall of Fame Golfer, Ralph Kramden. Enjoy the 145 mph winds in the summer as the lanai is ripped from your house and your pool cage relocates to North Dakota. Bask in the 95 degree summer heat with 100% humidity. Forget about going anywhere during the cooler months when all the tourists are clogging the roads. Cheer as the professional sports teams don't score, don't win, and make you want to go to their games incognito. Laugh when tourists run from the water yelling "Shark!" while dolphins leap merrily from the waves. But, whatever you do, buy this book. And then, read this book. There will be a test.

My wife bought me this book and kept asking me if I had looked at it yet. Already in the middle of two other golf books - one being instructional I said no, not yet. She insisted that I at least read the first few pages to see if it was something I would like. Well, within 5 minutes of cracking it open I was in stitches and I was hooked. Carl has a wonderful writing style that just sucks you in. As a golf hack who found the sport well after my 20's I especially enjoyed his perspective.

Downhill Lie has some very funny parts to it: Hiaasen has a wonderful self-deprecating sense of humor. You'll find tales of toad-wedging: golf practice that consists of chipping toads onto neighbors' houses. You'll find that golf clubs make effective rat bashers. I suspect that the ASPCA wil find some things to offend them here. You'll read about the time he lost a golf cart--it slipped into a pond.

But I founf myself scratching my head in wonderment at times. Hiaasen is not, to be sure, a scratch golfer, but he has a voracious appetite to improve his game--as most golfers do. But we see him resorting to buying things--pendants with wonder powers to hang around your neck (only 75% as effective if kept in your pocket), herbal pills to improve "muscle memory", RadarGolf devices to help you locate lost balls, and the like. I'm at a loss here. Didn't we see Hiaasen regularly poking fun at the people who bought such devices in many of his novels? In Double Whammy, for instance, there's the unforgettable image of a cheap skiff hauled by a garbage truck to a tournament, and fishing with cheap equipment, when everyone else arrives with massive gadgetry--fish radar, gimmicks galore, etc. Hiaasen had always seemed to be fond of satirizing those who shell out large amounts of money for the kinds of devices he happily buys in Downhill Lie. There's almost an element of Eliot Spitzer here.

I would guess that Hiaasen describes parts of perhaps 200 rounds of golf. Some of this is a pleasure and a delight to read. Some of it is, well....have you ever heard a golfer tell you about one of his rounds, shot by shot, hole by hole? It's never actually that bad or that detailed--but there are times when you feel as if half your mind was on other things. This is also an instructive book--if you're lucky, you'll begin to get the idea that spending lots of money--lots and lots of money--will not guarantee that you'll reduce your handicap. Another element of the book, which you should learn in an indirect fashion, is that the crucial thing is that you should enjoy the game: Hiaasen almost seems too driven, that perhaps he should understand that some people are destined to remain 15-18 handicap golfers, and that you can accept your limitations. When I played golf, I had about a 30 handicap: a duck hook or a topped ball--well, so what's new? Enjoy the occasional decent shot. I often played with a colleague who had about a 3 handicap--when he mishit a shot, he'd go into a blue funk for several holes. I think I enjoyed the game more than he did. So the lesson from this book is--have fun, and don't make such a big deal about improving your handicap by 5 strokes. Hiaasen, at least, can make fun of himself--which too many golfers cannot do.

Sports Illustrated published two excerpts of this book recently - in the Players Championship Special Issue and in the May 12, 2008 regular issue. Although there was some overlap, together the two excerpts paint a hilarious autobiographical picture of the author's attempted return to golf. Laugh-out-loud funny doesn't begin to describe the section of the excerpt in May 12th SI titled "Toad Golf". I have never laughed so hard when reading SI. I'm buying the book, and, hopefully, it will provide as much enjoyment.

Returning to golf thirty-two years after he gave it up, Carl Hiaasen, author of hilarious mysteries, shares his struggles to relearn the game of golf and maybe, even, learn to have fun with it. Golf is not a natural "fit" for Hiaasen--"I was just as restless, consumed, unreflective, fatalistic, and emotionally unequipped to play golf in my fifties as I was in my teens," he admits. He starts "on the path to perdition" in November, 2002, when Sports Illustrated asks him to go to Barbados to write a humorous piece about the photo shoot for the swimsuit issue, and he ends up playing golf with his editor during the downtime.

Unfortunately, for Hiaasen, he plays well enough that he decides to play golf (with second-hand clubs) back home with friends, and soon gets caught up in the golf-mania of finding the perfect equipment, reading books by gurus like Bob Rotella, David Leadbetter, and legend Harvey Penick, subscribing to golf magazines, and buying anything that may improve his game--from pendants to wear around his neck (to reduce stress) to capsules of herbal supplements (to improve concentration).

Describing himself as a "reclusive, neurotic, doubt-plagued duffer," he keeps a diary for almost six hundred days, obsessively recording, often in salty language and off-the-wall imagery, the rounds he plays with his friends, including Mike Lupica and CBS's David Feherty. Admitting that he suffers from "Wildly Unrealistic Expectations," he reflects the fears and frustrations of all beginning golfers when he 1) has to play in front of strangers, 2) has to play a new course for the first time, and 3) agrees to play in his first tournament.

On a more universal note, he continues his mockery of politicians for failing to protect the environment in Florida, a theme of many of his mysteries, and he talks about the growth of golf communities and the loss of animal habitats. He reminds the reader, however, that golf courses are not all bad--they could have been "two thousand, zero lot-line houses." Hilarious in his descriptions of his efforts to learn the game, he is also serious about his frustrations with it. He suffers, he tells us from "the most corrosive fundamental of golf, the S*ck Factor." When his wife and seven-year-old son take lessons and love the game, Hiaasen is reminded of his own golf experiences with his father, and despite his "own foolish and overwrought tribulations," he begins to see "warmer days ahead." Perhaps he might grow to love the game and share it with his family. n Mary Whipple

Skin Tight
Native Tongue
Stormy Weather
Basket Case
Skinny Dip
Lucky You

Returning to golf thirty-two years after he gave it up, Carl Hiaasen, author of hilarious mysteries, shares his struggles to relearn the game of golf and maybe, even, learn to have fun with it. Golf is not a natural "fit" for Hiaasen--"I was just as restless, consumed, unreflective, fatalistic, and emotionally unequipped to play golf in my fifties as I was in my teens," he admits. He starts "on the path to perdition" in November, 2002, when Sports Illustrated asks him to go to Barbados to write a humorous piece about the photo shoot for the swimsuit issue, and he ends up playing golf with his editor during the downtime.

Unfortunately, for Hiaasen, he plays well enough that he decides to play golf (with second-hand clubs) back home with friends, and soon gets caught up in the golf-mania of finding the perfect equipment, reading books by gurus like Bob Rotella, David Leadbetter, and legend Harvey Penick, subscribing to golf magazines, and buying anything that may improve his game--from pendants to wear around his neck (to reduce stress) to capsules of herbal supplements (to improve concentration).

Describing himself as a "reclusive, neurotic, doubt-plagued duffer," he keeps a diary for almost six hundred days, obsessively recording, often in salty language and off-the-wall imagery, the rounds he plays with his friends, including Mike Lupica and CBS's David Feherty. Admitting that he suffers from "Wildly Unrealistic Expectations," he reflects the fears and frustrations of all beginning golfers when he 1) has to play in front of strangers, 2) has to play a new course for the first time, and 3) agrees to play in his first tournament.

On a more universal note, he continues his mockery of politicians for failing to protect the environment in Florida, a theme of many of his mysteries, and he talks about the growth of golf communities and the loss of animal habitats. He reminds the reader, however, that golf courses are not all bad--they could have been "two thousand, zero lot-line houses." Hilarious in his descriptions of his efforts to learn the game, he is also serious about his frustrations with it. He suffers, he tells us from "the most corrosive fundamental of golf, the S*ck Factor." When his wife and seven-year-old son take lessons and love the game, Hiaasen is reminded of his own golf experiences with his father, and despite his "own foolish and overwrought tribulations," he begins to see "warmer days ahead." Perhaps he might grow to love the game and share it with his family. n Mary Whipple

Skin Tight
Native Tongue
Stormy Weather
Basket Case
Skinny Dip

I used to be a huge Hiaasen fan but his last book, Nature Girl, was such a stinker I decided I was through with him. When I saw this I decided to get it for a friend who has just taken up golf. I also have several other friends that golf and thought it'd be a fun gift for them.
It's awful. The writing is amateurish even for Hiaasen. The story is boring (I'm not a golfer but really, how long can he go on about how bad he is at golf?) and, worse, he's not funny; the one thing that we require of Hiaasen.
He also, needlessly and completely out of context,takes shots at the Republican Party, thereby insulting a large part of his market. His total disregard of insulting a major segment of the golfing public is incredible to me. it's so out of place and, again, unnecessary, it's almost laughable. The book is tedious to read and I'm glad to be done with it....save your $$$'s and your time.

Returning to golf thirty-two years after he gave it up, Carl Hiaasen, author of hilarious mysteries, shares his struggles to relearn the game of golf and maybe, even, learn to have fun with it. Golf is not a natural "fit" for Hiaasen--"I was just as restless, consumed, unreflective, fatalistic, and emotionally unequipped to play golf in my fifties as I was in my teens," he admits. He starts "on the path to perdition" in November, 2002, when Sports Illustrated asks him to go to Barbados to write a humorous piece about the photo shoot for the swimsuit issue, and he ends up playing golf with his editor during the downtime.

Unfortunately, for Hiaasen, he plays well on enough that he begins to play golf (with second-hand clubs) back home with friends, and soon gets caught up in the golf-mania of finding the perfect equipment, reading books by gurus like Bob Rotella, David Leadbetter, and legend Harvey Penick, subscribing to golf magazines, and buying anything that may improve his game--from pendants to wear around his neck (to reduce stress) to capsules of herbal supplements (to improve concentration).

Describing himself as a "reclusive, neurotic, doubt-plagued duffer," he keeps a diary for almost six hundred days, obsessively recording, often in salty language and off-the-wall imagery, the rounds he plays with his friends, including Mike Lupica and CBS's David Feherty. Admitting that he suffers from "Wildly Unrealistic Expectations," he reflects the disappointments and frustrations of all beginning golfers as he describes playing in front of strangers (badly), having to play a new course for the first time (badly), and playing in a tournament (badly).

Continuing his mockery of politicians for failing to protect the environment in Florida, a theme of many of his mysteries, he talks about the growth of golf communities and the loss of animal habitats, but he also reminds the reader that golf courses are not all bad. They could have been "two thousand, zero lot-line houses." Hilarious in his descriptions of his efforts to learn the game, he is also serious about his frustrations with it. He suffers, he tells us from "the most corrosive fundamental of golf, the S*ck Factor." When his wife and his seven-year-old son take lessons and love the game, Hiaasen is reminded of his own golf experiences with his father, and despite his "own foolish and overwrought tribulations," he begins to see "warmer days ahead." Perhaps he might grow to love the game and share it with his family. n Mary Whipple

Hiaasen is one of those authors whose books I automatically buy as soon as they're available - without question. Being a golfer as well made this a slam dunk - whoops, wrong sport - maybe a hole in one........At any rate, it's pretty good - not great, but quite readable. Hard to find an author who can turn a wickedly descriptive phrase like Hiassen. Basically, he's taken up the game after a hiatus of some 35 years with fairly hillarious results - and he still gets his digs in at crooked politicians & developers - what would a Hiassen tome be without that! If you don't find yourself laughing out loud at least a few times, you don't have a good, wharped sense of humor. That being said, the story does get a bit tedious because his game stays in the same schlock mode for the entire read despite thousands of dollars p***** away on numerous lessons, equipment and other items of dubious merit. If you're not a golfer, this story may not resonate, BUT, it is, afterall, Hiassen...........

While the subject's different (golf, versus corrupt Floridians), Carl Hiaassen writes with the same shredding abandon as always. Here, he is taking up golf after a 32-year absence and documenting his "progress" with amusement and vitriol. As an 18-handicap golfer, I enjoyed and empathized with his misadventures.

Now, how about another novel with Skink in it?