Hornytown Chutzpah

Have you ever read a detective story in which the classic noir detective locks and loads a super-soaker loaded with chicken soup (authentic, kosher, bubbe-made) and, protected by the weapon of his faith, heads into a hellscape catering to DC tourists? It’s available! The book is Hornytown Chutzpah by Andrew Hiller, and it’s just charming and fun.

It starts in classic fashion. A succubus, one of the sheydim, walks into hard-boiled detective Solomon Weiss’s office and asks him to clear her of murder charges. She introduces herself as Ms. Urrie (“I hate puns,” the detective reflects). She calls on him as Solomon the Wise Guy, a name that makes him wince, considering how much he’s left that identity behind to become more of a dick, as he keeps thinking:

“Solomon the Wise Guy was who I used to be. The guy who didn’t play dirty. Who didn’t drink. Who played everything straight. That was his rep, anyhow, even if sometimes Solomon Weiss looked the other way or got his hands greased while he tightroped the line between mensch and cop.” (8)

Off the detective goes to Hornytown, with his super-soaker of “a little kosher wine spiked with a kiddush” (7). (The chicken soup is for serious cases, since matzah balls gum up the works). 

The victim is Ronald (the Unicorn) Hart, the mayor of the goofy touristville hell he invented. In a corrupt system, with elements of the murder looking very sketchy indeed, Ms. Urrie calls on Solomon to clean up his act and rediscover who he used to be. As she concludes, “And, well, everyone knows when a Hornytown girl gets in trouble she can count on the Wise Guy.” When he hesitates, she pulls out “the big guns,” with some old fashioned Jewish guilt, asking, “Sol, don’t you believe in tikun olam anymore? Your duty to repair the world?” (25). She even throws in some Star Wars, just to top this off: “Please, please help me, Sol…You’re my only hope” (25). Pop culture references are always extra fun for the readers. The characters are fun too, with the right amount of self-awareness. 

Off they go, leaning heavily into the Yiddish slang. As Solomon narrates on one occasion, “To avoid the kvetching and as much tsuris as possible I improvised a few believable spiels and strategized on how best to shmooze them” (58). Arrested by the officials of Hornytown, one asks, “Jews don’t even believe in Hell. Why fight for someone your people don’t believe in?” (78). Of course, the succubus’s pleas have gotten to Solomon. Later, he mouths off with “I’m Jewish. We’re more about enduring pain than getting off on it” (91). As such, this is a decidedly goofy and decidedly Jewish spin on the hardboiled detective genre.  

There’s a twist ending, of course, as Solomon discovers the surprising culprit. He saves the day and sets things right, confirming that he still has a great deal of Solomon the Wise lingering within him. The book fittingly ends with a silly Yiddish glossary titled “A Wise-Guy’s Guide to some Jewish and Yiddish Words.” It’s fun and clever, as it subverts all the genre rules with heavy, heavy Jewishness. 

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