Title: Hogdoggin’
Author: Anthony Neil Smith
Publisher: Bleak House Books
Binding: Hardcover or Trade paperback (simultaneous release)
Publication Date: June 2009
The most remarkable thing about Anthony Neil Smith’s Hogdoggin’, his follow-up to last year’s Yellow Medicine, is that he manages to make you empathize with every single fucking character. From the town slut with a penchant for mutilating her unsuspecting lays to the biker killing-machine named Steel God, Smith understands and loves every character in this epic, bloody noir opus.
But don’t get the Nerd wrong, dear reader: Smith’s attention to character sure as shit doesn’t keep the pace from being anything but fucking break-neck and the body count anything but Empire State Building high. It’s just that, you know, you actually fucking care when folks get shot up (or stabbed or burned or neutered) in Hogdoggin’. Scout’s honor, dear reader, there isn’t a death in this beast that doesn’t fucking rock you – this shit is fucking visceral (if you’ll indulge the Nerd as he gets all dictionatorial on your ass).
In other words, Hogdoggin’ is a fucking feat.
As you might’ve inferred (and if you didn’t, catch the fuck up already), Hogdoggin’ is a far more sprawling book than its predecessor. Whereas with Yellow Medicine Smith kept the perspective tight on disgraced cop Billy Lafitte, this time we get a glimpse into the twisted minds of almost every character we meet.
When we last saw Lafitte, he was lamming it after failing to kill Homeland Security Agent Franklin Rome, the man who destroyed his life. Hogdoggin’ picks up the story nearly a year later and we find that Billy has taken up with a fearsome motorcycle club in South Dakota, lead by evil, legendary giant Steel God. Shit, Lafitte ain’t so small himself these days, what with God making him take steroids to beef himself up by sixty more pounds.
Anyway, all is depressing and soul-crushing until he gets word that his ex-wife is being harassed by his old buddy Agent Rome. See, Rome never got over letting Lafitte get away from him. It got him kicked out of Homeland Security and back into the less-glamorous FBI, where they eventually down in New Orleans. In order to smoke out the very off-the-radar Lafitte, Rome decides to threaten nervous wreck Ginny Lafitte, who lives just a few hours away from him these days. His tactic apparently works as Lafitte quickly ditches the biker gang to come to his wife’s rescue.
But a motorcycle road trip to the Deep South isn’t as easy as it sounds. Not when you have vengeful cop named Colleen after your ass. Or a bunch of paint-huffing hicks out for a reward. Or Agent Rome and his treacherous underling Agent McKeown on your tail. And you better believe you haven’t seen the last of Steel God. Shit, you’ve barely come close to seeing the fucking wrath of Steel God, dear reader…
As with previous Smith efforts, shit gets crazy and shit gets complicated, but somehow it’s never that fucking crazy. As fucked up as things get, there’s never a point where you roll your eyes and pantomime jerking off at the ludicrousness of the plot (and you know you’ve done that while reading before. Pantomiming it, not actually…well, maybe you have…). Smith makes every twist seem organic, unforced.
And that’s because, like all the best stories (as your high school English teacher should have told you), the plot – fucked up as it may be – is driven by character. And like I said up at the top, the characters are what make this fucking souped-up chopper of a novel fucking roar.
Hogdoggin’ is what the true noir junkies will be cramming down your throats this summer. Trust the Nerd, dear reader: Don’t fight it, just let that shit happen.
