Catalogue


Lucky you : a novel /
by Carl Hiaasen.
imprint
New York : Alfred A. Knopf, 1997.
description
353 p. ; 25 cm.
ISBN
0679454446 (alk. paper)
format(s)
Book
Holdings
More Details
imprint
New York : Alfred A. Knopf, 1997.
isbn
0679454446 (alk. paper)
catalogue key
1578537
A Look Inside
Awards
This item was nominated for the following awards:
Excerpts
Excerpt from Book
The following excerpt is from Chapter 1. On the afternoon of November 25, a woman named JoLayne Lucks drove to the Grab N'Go minimart in Grange, Florida, and purchased spearmint Certs, unwaxed dental floss and one ticket for the state Lotto. JoLayne Lucks played the same numbers she'd played every Saturday for five years: 17-19-22-24-27-30. The significance of her Lotto numbers was this: each represented an age at which she had jettisoned a burdensome man. At 17 it was Rick the Pontiac mechanic. At 19 it was Rick's brother, Robert. At 22 it was a stockbroker named Colavito, twice JoLayne's age, who'd delivered on none of his promises. At 24 it was a policeman, another Robert, who got in trouble for fixing traffic tickets in exchange for sex. At 27 it was Neal the chiropractor, a well-meaning but unbearable codependent. And at 30 JoLayne dumped Lawrence, a lawyer, her one and only husband. Lawrence had been notified of his disbarment exactly one week after he and JoLayne were married, but she stuck with him for almost a year. JoLayne was fond of Lawrence and wanted to believe his earnest denials regarding the multiple fraud convictions that precipitated his trouble with the Florida Bar. While appealing his case, Lawrence took a job as a toll taker on the Beeline Expressway, a plucky career realignment that nearly won JoLayne's heart. Then one night he was caught making off with a thirty-pound sack of loose change, mostly quarters and dimes. Before he could post bail, JoLayne packed up most of his belongings, including his expensive Hermes neckties, and gave them to the Salvation Army. Then she filed for divorce. Five years later she was still single and unattached when, to her vast amusement, she won the Florida Lotto. She happened to be sitting with a plate of turkey leftovers in front of the television at 11 p.m., when the winning numbers were announced. JoLayne Lucks didn't faint, shriek or dance wildly around the house. She smiled, though, thinking of the six discarded men from her past life; thinking how, in spite of themselves, they'd finally amounted to something. Twenty-eight million dollars, to be precise. One hour earlier and almost three hundred miles away, a candy-red Dodge Ram pulled into a convenience store in Florida City. Two men got out of the truck: Bodean Gazzer, known locally as Bode, and his companion Chub, who claimed to have no last name. Although they parked in a handicapped-only zone, neither man was physically disabled in any way. Bode Gazzer was five feet six and had never forgiven his parents for it. He wore three-inch snakeskin shitkickers and walked with a swagger that suggested not brawn so much as hemorrhoidal tribulation. Chub was a beer-gutted six two, moist-eyed, ponytailed and unshaven. He carried a loaded gun at all times and was Bode Gazzer's best and only friend. They had known each other two months. Bode Gazzer had gone to Chub to buy a counterfeit handicapped sticker that would get him the choicest parking spot at Probation & Parole, or any of the other state offices where his attendance was occasionally required. Like its mangy tenant, Chub's house trailer emitted a damp fungal reek. Chub had just printed a new batch of the fake emblems, which he laconically fanned like a poker deck on the kitchen counter. The workmanship (in sharp contrast to the surroundings) was impeccable--the universal wheelchair symbol set crisply against a navy-blue background. No traffic cop in the world would question it. Chub had asked Bode Gazzer what type he wanted--a bumper insignia, a tag for the rearview or a dashboard placard. Bode said a simple window tag would be fine. "Two hunnert bucks," said Chub, scratching his scalp with a salad fork. "I'm a little short on cash. You like lobster?" "Who don't." So they'd worked out a trade--the bogus disabled-parking
First Chapter
The following excerpt is from Chapter 1. On the afternoon of November 25, a woman named JoLayne Lucks drove to the Grab N'Go minimart in Grange, Florida, and purchased spearmint Certs, unwaxed dental floss and one ticket for the state Lotto. JoLayne Lucks played the same numbers she'd played every Saturday for five years: 17-19-22-24-27-30. The significance of her Lotto numbers was this: each represented an age at which she had jettisoned a burdensome man. At 17 it was Rick the Pontiac mechanic. At 19 it was Rick's brother, Robert. At 22 it was a stockbroker named Colavito, twice JoLayne's age, who'd delivered on none of his promises. At 24 it was a policeman, another Robert, who got in trouble for fixing traffic tickets in exchange for sex. At 27 it was Neal the chiropractor, a well-meaning but unbearable codependent. And at 30 JoLayne dumped Lawrence, a lawyer, her one and only husband. Lawrence had been notified of his disbarment exactly one week after he and JoLayne were married, but she stuck with him for almost a year. JoLayne was fond of Lawrence and wanted to believe his earnest denials regarding the multiple fraud convictions that precipitated his trouble with the Florida Bar. While appealing his case, Lawrence took a job as a toll taker on the Beeline Expressway, a plucky career realignment that nearly won JoLayne's heart. Then one night he was caught making off with a thirty-pound sack of loose change, mostly quarters and dimes. Before he could post bail, JoLayne packed up most of his belongings, including his expensive Hermes neckties, and gave them to the Salvation Army. Then she filed for divorce. Five years later she was still single and unattached when, to her vast amusement, she won the Florida Lotto. She happened to be sitting with a plate of turkey leftovers in front of the television at 11 p.m., when the winning numbers were announced. JoLayne Lucks didn't faint, shriek or dance wildly around the house. She smiled, though, thinking of the six discarded men from her past life; thinking how, in spite of themselves, they'd finally amounted to something. Twenty-eight million dollars, to be precise. One hour earlier and almost three hundred miles away, a candy-red Dodge Ram pulled into a convenience store in Florida City. Two men got out of the truck: Bodean Gazzer, known locally as Bode, and his companion Chub, who claimed to have no last name. Although they parked in a handicapped-only zone, neither man was physically disabled in any way. Bode Gazzer was five feet six and had never forgiven his parents for it. He wore three-inch snakeskin shitkickers and walked with a swagger that suggested not brawn so much as hemorrhoidal tribulation. Chub was a beer-gutted six two, moist-eyed, ponytailed and unshaven. He carried a loaded gun at all times and was Bode Gazzer's best and only friend. They had known each other two months. Bode Gazzer had gone to Chub to buy a counterfeit handicapped sticker that would get him the choicest parking spot at Probation & Parole, or any of the other state offices where his attendance was occasionally required. Like its mangy tenant, Chub's house trailer emitted a damp fungal reek. Chub had just printed a new batch of the fake emblems, which he laconically fanned like a poker deck on the kitchen counter. The workmanship (in sharp contrast to the surroundings) was impeccable--the universal wheelchair symbol set crisply against a navy-blue background. No traffic cop in the world would question it. Chub had asked Bode Gazzer what type he wanted--a bumper insignia, a tag for the rearview or a dashboard placard. Bode said a simple window tag would be fine. "Two hunnert bucks," said Chub, scratching his scalp with a salad fork. "I'm a little short on cash. You like lobster?" "Who don't." So they'd worked out a trade--the bogus disabled-parking
Full Text Reviews
Appeared in Publishers Weekly on 1997-09-15:
The Florida jokester has come up with his funniest caper yet in this novel about a lottery winner and the evil attentions she attracts from some of the grungiest lowlifes ever to see print. JoLayne Lucks is a cheery vet's assistant in tiny Grange, Fla., with a tender disposition and a no-nonsense attitude toward men. Into her life falls a winning divided lottery ticket worth $14 million, which she treats so nonchalantly that the town, desperate for a little attention for some reason other than its weeping Virgin Mary statue and a man who has drilled stigmata through his hands and feet for the Christian tourist trade, can hardly tell whether she won or not. (JoLayne actually wants to use the money to buy a local wilderness area and keep it for its resident wild creatures.) A newspaper reporter, Tom Krome, gets on the story, and so, unfortunately, do Bodean Gazzer and his friend Chub, the heart (and only members) of an "anti-gummint," white-supremacist, Bud-guzzling militia who, when not spreading their gospel, are respectively poaching lobsters and counterfeiting handicapped parking stickers. This unsavory pair also won on the split ticket with JoLayne; but figuring that she, being black, doesn't deserve her half, they take it off her. JoLayne's efforts, with Tom's help, to get the ticket back are the heart of the story. But it also expands to embrace holy turtles; Virgin malfunctions; Tom's wife, who will do anything to escape being served with divorce papers; young Shiner, who wants to be a member of Bode and Chub's outfit; and the beauteous Amber, a limber waitress at Hooters cafe whose orange shorts set several hearts afire. The pace is crackling, the dialogue, especially among the rednecks, is fall-down funny, and the spirit is sweet and offbeat. 200,000 first printing; BOMC and QPB alternates; Random House audio. (Nov.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Appeared in Library Journal on 1997-07:
A lucky lottery winner in Grange, Florida, gets mad‘and then gets even‘when two thugs who won half the pot get greedy and steal her ticket, too. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Reviews
This item was reviewed in:
Library Journal, July 1997
Booklist, September 1997
Kirkus Reviews, September 1997
Publishers Weekly, September 1997
Library Journal, October 1997
Northern California Independent Booksellers Assn., June 1998
To find out how to look for other reviews, please see our guides to finding book reviews in the Sciences or Social Sciences and Humanities.
Summaries
Main Description
Grange, Florida, is famous for its miracles--the weeping fiberglass Madonna, the Road-Stain Jesus, the stigmata man. And now it has JoLayne Lucks, unlikely winner of the state lottery. Unfortunately, JoLayne's winning ticket isn't the only one. The other belongs to Bodean Gazzer and his raunchy sidekick, Chub, who believe they're entitled to the whole $28 million jackpot. And they need it quickly, to start their own underground militia before NATO troops invade America. But JoLayne Lucks has her own plans for the Lotto money--an Eden-like forest in Grange must be saved from strip-malling. When Bode and Chub brutally assault her and steal her ticket, JoLayne vows to track them down, take it back--and get revenge. The only one who can help is Tom Krome, a big-city investigative journalist now bitterly consigned to writing frothy features for a midsized central Florida newspaper. With a persuasive nudge from JoLayne, Krome is about to become part of a story that's bigger and more bizarre than anything he's ever covered. Chasing two heavily armed psychopaths down the coast of Florida is reckless enough, but Tom's got other problems--the murderous attention of a jealous judge; an actress wife who turns fugitive to avoid divorce court; an editor who speaks in tongues; and Tom's own growing fondness for the future millionairess with whom he's risking his neck. The pursuit takes them from the surreal streets of Grange to a buzzard-infested island deep in Florida Bay, where they finally catch up with the fledgling militia--Chub, Bode Gazzer, a newly recruited convenience-store clerk and their baffled hostage, a Hooters waitress. The climax explodes with the hilarious mayhem that is Carl Hiaasen's hallmark. Lucky You is his funniest, most deliriously gripping novel yet.

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