Tim Dorsey Books Are One Long Experiment In Tropical Mayhem

If you’re looking for a definitive response as to whether or not you should read a Tim Dorsey book, the answer is a solid, “Maybe.” Depends on how tightly you’re wound. The Timster’s particular brand of tropical mayhem somewhat exceeds that established by Florida fictional stalwarts like Carl Hiaasen, Randy Wayne White, Elmore Leonard, and even genre grandaddys like Charles Willeford and John D. MacDonald.

Exceeds? In what way? Well, gentle reader, in almost every way imaginable. It took me a while to become comfortable with the idea of a serial killer/Florida travel buff as the main character. Actually, the Florida travel buff part wasn’t difficult at all, but the serial killing sprees sort of set my nerves on edge – at first. As time (and books) pass, I began to secretly cheer at the creatively executed trail of murder victims Serge A. Storms left in his wake. After all, it’s not really murder if the perp deserved to die, right? That’s a question you’ll have to answer for yourself.

Writing on the eve of the release of Tim Dorsey’s book #13, Electric Barracuda, most of which have featured Serge, his dope-addled partner, Coleman, and a truly inspired cast of weirdos, scofflaws, family men, psychotic girlfriends, noir detectives, biker grannies, and self help groups, it is with something resembling the fondness of a visit to an old friend that I greet this day.

Want to know a secret? In the beginning, I couldn’t stand Dorsey books or Serge. Each seemed like nothing more than a mean-spirited exercise in gratuitous sex, violence, and Florida history. Pointless meandering in search of a plot. Two loser characters with nothing better to do than waste my time. But something kept me going back to them and, finally, a breakthrough occurred. I bought one on audiobook and the brilliance of Mr. Dorsey’s approach pierced my brain like a worm from the bottom of the tequila bottle. Maybe the secret to a Tim Dorsey book is to have someone else read it to you. I own most of them in this format now, read with manic skill and style by a gent name Oliver Wyman.

At first, I considered Dorsey something less than a real Florida writer. After all, his writing didn’t seem to thrive with the creative phrasing of Hiassen, or the visual imagery of White. While that may be true, he does seem to have the heart and soul of what it means to live in the Sunshine State tattooed on his rump.

The lesson to take away is that if you’re a fan of the genre, don’t give up on Tim Dorsey’s books just because your first experience is akin to slamming your finger in the car door. On purpose. Repeatedly. The guy’s tap water is spiked with something good and he’s trying to share it with you. Why not take him up on the offer?. The danger with most book series featuring a single primary character is that they become just a little too familiar, and you begin to notice their warts, but that’s okay. Nothing says you’re back home like a visit from Serge Storms, the serial killer next door.

Tim Dorsey Books Are One Long Experiment In Tropical Mayhem