Two stories into "Pinkies," and I realized that while I wanted to devour this book on the spot, I couldn't bring myself to do it -- that's how much these off-kilter, sometimes downright gross, often hilarious stories pack a punch. This collection is the very definition of how the experience of short-story-reading differs from that of the novel. Read one or two at a sitting, savor, absorb, maybe leave it for a few days, then get hungry and go back again. Rarely do I finding myself laughing out loud and welling up with pleasure while reading. Yet I found myself doing so countless times with this book. Here's one of the lines, from the story, "Self-Cleaning": "There are times in your life when you realize the biggest obstacle between you and your dreams is your teeth." Time and again, I found myself envious of not only his premises and embodiment of this weird place we call Florida, but his prose. And first lines? Holy hell, does this guy know how to open a story. "Carol felt too much hair between her legs." "Seventy-five percent of America's trash gets exported right here, out of Tampa Bay," the cop said to me, his leather shoe on my neck, pushing my face down into a paper bag full of liquefied fried chicken."
This review may sound more blurby than critical, but that's how excited I am about this book. Hinton is one hell of a writer to admire, and learn from. And that's the highest praise I can offer.