I tend to read a fictional novel between each nonfictional one that I read, and my taste in books ranges from 19th century novels to contemporary crime fiction. I like to read just about everything (although I have a harder time reading sci-fi/fantasy than I did when I was a slip of a lass). This month I seem to be stuck on Carl Hiaasen novels. I read Sick Puppy, Basket Case, and then my first and favorite, Skinny Dip.

There are a few reasons that I really enjoy reading Hiassen (although I haven't enjoyed all of the novels, the ones I like, I like so much I have to write about it). The first reason is that he's really funny. It's not easy to make me laugh out loud.

I also have a long-standing penchant for the older man-younger woman relationship model, which Hiassen seems to play around with. It's not my fault. It started with Sting and this fantastic video. Understand, young Sting, you don't have to stand close to me to feel this heat. My lingering fancy for the mature male also stems from reading Jane Eyre during the days of sexual imprinting. Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre were separated by about twenty years. Smokin' hot. In my defense, it only does it for me if the two companions equal each other on some level. I get totally hot and bothered by an egalitarian match. So the Joey-Mick pairing in Dip and the Emma-Jack couplet in the Basket had my full and favorable attention.

The last thing I noticed about Hiaasen is how accurately his characters sound. They all have interesting quirks, but better than that are their distinct voices and vocabularies. Even in the internal dialogue.

Out of all this comes the confession that I have a love jones for Mick Stranahan. He's fit, he's smart, he's tough, and he takes all kinds of care of Joey at the same time that he knows she can take care of herself. He's constantly feeding her, teasing her, or giving it to her under picnic benches. Deeelicious.