A Kinky Creamed-Corn Recipe

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By Newsweek Editors

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Carl Hiaasen's toughest problem is getting people to believe him. No matter how hard he tries to ground his novels in solid fact, readers keep congratulating him on his vivid imagination. Make that "readers who don't live anywhere near Miami." "South Floridians look on the books as documentaries, Hiaasen says. "People outside of Florida say, 'What drugs are you on?"' Now Hiaasen has appended an "undisclaimer" to the pro forma disclaimer at the beginning of his latest novel: "The events described are purely imaginary, although the accounts of topless creamed-corn wrestling are based on fact." "There really was a joint in West Palm Beach that offered nude creamed-corn wrestling," he insists. "You'd think nobody would get in a vat of creamed corn with a woman, but, I'm sorry, they did."

A third-generation Floridian (his grandfather started the first law firm in Ft. Lauderdale), the 40-year-old Miami Herald columnist is at heart a serious man deeply angered by what developers, greedy politicians and overpopulation have done to his state. Of his childhood in Plantation, a suburb of Ft. Lauderdale, he says, "At the time I grew up, it was the westernmost fringe of civilization in south Florida, literally on the edge of the Everglades. Now, of course, it's unrecognizable...But I still have a tremendous affection for the place." His fiction "keeps me from going completely around the bend," he says. "I can write my own endings, and for once the bad guys get what they deserve." His cutting satire is "the only defense I've got." It's also a mighty effective weapon. "Most politicians fear this sort of humor much more than someone getting up on a soapbox and screaming at 'em," he says. "They don't like to be mocked and lampooned. So, naturally, my intent is to mock and lampoon as much as possible."

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