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| The Downhill Lie: A Hacker's Return to a Ruinous Sport | 
 enlarge | Author: Carl Hiaasen
Publisher: Knopf
Category: Book
List Price: $22.00
Buy New: $10.25
You Save: $11.75 (53%)
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Avg. Customer Rating:  27 reviews
Sales Rank: 114
Media: Hardcover
Number Of Items: 1
Pages: 224
Shipping Weight (lbs): 0.7
Dimensions (in): 7.6 x 5.2 x 1
ISBN: 0307266532
Dewey Decimal Number: 796.352092
EAN: 9780307266538
ASIN: 0307266532
Publication Date: May 6, 2008
Availability: Usually ships in 1-2 business days
Condition: Brand New Book
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Product Description
Ever wonder how to retrieve a sunken golf cart from a snake-infested lake? Or which club in your bag is best suited for combat against a horde of rats? If these and other sporting questions are gnawing at you, The Downhill Lie, Carl Hiaasen’s hilarious confessional about returning to the fairways after a thirty-two-year absence, is definitely the book for you.
Originally drawn to the game by his father, Carl wisely quit golfing in 1973, when “Richard Nixon was hunkered down like a meth-crazed badger in the White House, Hank Aaron was one dinger shy of Babe Ruth’s all-time home run record, and The Who had just released Quadrophenia.” But some ambitions refuse to die, and as the years—and memories of shanked 7-irons—faded, it dawned on Carl that there might be one thing in life he could do better in middle age than he could as a youth. So gradually he ventured back to the dreaded driving range, this time as the father of a five-year-old son—and also as a grandfather.
“What possesses a man to return in midlife to a game at which he’d never excelled in his prime, and which in fact had dealt him mostly failure, angst and exasperation? Here’s why I did it: I’m one sick bastard.”
And thus we have Carl’s foray into a world of baffling titanium technology, high-priced golf gurus, bizarre infomercial gimmicks and the mind-bending phenomenon of Tiger Woods; a maddening universe of hooks and slices where Carl ultimately—and foolishly—agrees to compete in a country-club tournament against players who can actually hit the ball. “That’s the secret of the sport’s infernal seduction,” he writes. “It surrenders just enough good shots to let you talk yourself out of quitting.”
Hiaasen’s chronicle of his shaky return to this bedeviling pastime and the ensuing demolition of his self-esteem—culminating with the savage 45-hole tournament—will have you rolling with laughter. Yet the bittersweet memories of playing with his own father and the glow he feels when watching his own young son belt the ball down the fairway will also touch your heart. Forget Tiger, Phil and Ernie. If you want to understand the true lure of golf, turn to Carl Hiaasen, who has written an extraordinary book for the ordinary hacker.
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| Customer Reviews: Read 22 more reviews...
 "One day you're suckered into self-confidence [by] a few decent shots; the next, you can't hit the green with a sledgehammer." May 11, 2008
33 out of 37 found this review helpful
Returning to golf thirty-two years after he gave it up, Carl Hiaasen, author of hilarious mysteries, shares his struggles to relearn the game of golf and maybe, even, learn to have fun with it. Golf is not a natural "fit" for Hiaasen--"I was just as restless, consumed, unreflective, fatalistic, and emotionally unequipped to play golf in my fifties as I was in my teens," he admits. He starts "on the path to perdition" in November, 2002, when Sports Illustrated asks him to go to Barbados to write a humorous piece about the photo shoot for the swimsuit issue, and he ends up playing golf with his editor during the downtime.
Unfortunately, for Hiaasen, he plays well enough that he decides to play golf (with second-hand clubs) back home with friends, and soon gets caught up in the golf-mania of finding the perfect equipment, reading books by gurus like Bob Rotella, David Leadbetter, and legend Harvey Penick, subscribing to golf magazines, and buying anything that may improve his game--from pendants to wear around his neck (to reduce stress) to capsules of herbal supplements (to improve concentration).
Describing himself as a "reclusive, neurotic, doubt-plagued duffer," he keeps a diary for almost six hundred days, obsessively recording, often in salty language and off-the-wall imagery, the rounds he plays with his friends, including Mike Lupica and CBS's David Feherty. Admitting that he suffers from "Wildly Unrealistic Expectations," he reflects the fears and frustrations of all beginning golfers when he 1) has to play in front of strangers, 2) has to play a new course for the first time, and 3) agrees to play in his first tournament.
On a more universal note, he continues his mockery of politicians for failing to protect the environment in Florida, a theme of many of his mysteries, and he talks about the growth of golf communities and the loss of animal habitats. He reminds the reader, however, that golf courses are not all bad--they could have been "two thousand, zero lot-line houses." Hilarious in his descriptions of his efforts to learn the game, he is also serious about his frustrations with it. He suffers, he tells us from "the most corrosive fundamental of golf, the S*ck Factor." When his wife and seven-year-old son take lessons and love the game, Hiaasen is reminded of his own golf experiences with his father, and despite his "own foolish and overwrought tribulations," he begins to see "warmer days ahead." Perhaps he might grow to love the game and share it with his family. n Mary Whipple
Skin Tight
Native Tongue
Stormy Weather
Basket Case
Skinny Dip
Lucky You
is this the hiaasen we know and love? May 12, 2008
9 out of 14 found this review helpful
Downhill Lie has some very funny parts to it: Hiaasen has a wonderful self-deprecating sense of humor. You'll find tales of toad-wedging: golf practice that consists of chipping toads onto neighbors' houses. You'll find that golf clubs make effective rat bashers. I suspect that the ASPCA wil find some things to offend them here. You'll read about the time he lost a golf cart--it slipped into a pond.
But I founf myself scratching my head in wonderment at times. Hiaasen is not, to be sure, a scratch golfer, but he has a voracious appetite to improve his game--as most golfers do. But we see him resorting to buying things--pendants with wonder powers to hang around your neck (only 75% as effective if kept in your pocket), herbal pills to improve "muscle memory", RadarGolf devices to help you locate lost balls, and the like. I'm at a loss here. Didn't we see Hiaasen regularly poking fun at the people who bought such devices in many of his novels? In Double Whammy, for instance, there's the unforgettable image of a cheap skiff hauled by a garbage truck to a tournament, and fishing with cheap equipment, when everyone else arrives with massive gadgetry--fish radar, gimmicks galore, etc. Hiaasen had always seemed to be fond of satirizing those who shell out large amounts of money for the kinds of devices he happily buys in Downhill Lie. There's almost an element of Eliot Spitzer here.
I would guess that Hiaasen describes parts of perhaps 200 rounds of golf. Some of this is a pleasure and a delight to read. Some of it is, well....have you ever heard a golfer tell you about one of his rounds, shot by shot, hole by hole? It's never actually that bad or that detailed--but there are times when you feel as if half your mind was on other things. This is also an instructive book--if you're lucky, you'll begin to get the idea that spending lots of money--lots and lots of money--will not guarantee that you'll reduce your handicap. Another element of the book, which you should learn in an indirect fashion, is that the crucial thing is that you should enjoy the game: Hiaasen almost seems too driven, that perhaps he should understand that some people are destined to remain 15-18 handicap golfers, and that you can accept your limitations. When I played golf, I had about a 30 handicap: a duck hook or a topped ball--well, so what's new? Enjoy the occasional decent shot. I often played with a colleague who had about a 3 handicap--when he mishit a shot, he'd go into a blue funk for several holes. I think I enjoyed the game more than he did. So the lesson from this book is--have fun, and don't make such a big deal about improving your handicap by 5 strokes. Hiaasen, at least, can make fun of himself--which too many golfers cannot do.
 disappointed May 11, 2008
8 out of 16 found this review helpful
I used to be a huge Hiaasen fan but his last book, Nature Girl, was such a stinker I decided I was through with him. When I saw this I decided to get it for a friend who has just taken up golf. I also have several other friends that golf and thought it'd be a fun gift for them.
It's awful. The writing is amateurish even for Hiaasen. The story is boring (I'm not a golfer but really, how long can he go on about how bad he is at golf?) and, worse, he's not funny; the one thing that we require of Hiaasen.
He also, needlessly and completely out of context,takes shots at the Republican Party, thereby insulting a large part of his market. His total disregard of insulting a major segment of the golfing public is incredible to me. it's so out of place and, again, unnecessary, it's almost laughable. The book is tedious to read and I'm glad to be done with it....save your $$$'s and your time.
Acerbic and funny May 9, 2008
6 out of 10 found this review helpful
While the subject's different (golf, versus corrupt Floridians), Carl Hiaassen writes with the same shredding abandon as always. Here, he is taking up golf after a 32-year absence and documenting his "progress" with amusement and vitriol. As an 18-handicap golfer, I enjoyed and empathized with his misadventures.
Now, how about another novel with Skink in it?
 A good read for golfers and the game's innocent bystanders. May 15, 2008
6 out of 11 found this review helpful
Carl Hiaasen was introduced to the game of golf by his father, who, to Carl's nearly life-long disappointment, was a very good golfer. On a whim that could be argued to be both mature and immature, he gave up the game in his early twenties because he wasn't able to improve. The Downhill Lie is the window through which we see his return to the game.
Hiaasen goes to many extremes to improve his game. He reads every piece of literature on the game and buys some hilarious info-mercial products that make lofty promises. He joins a golf course, buys new clubs (and more new clubs), takes lessons, re-engineers his swing, and ultimately enters a tournament.
For many reasons, which include his disposable income; his available free time; and that this became an assignment from his publisher, Hiaasen is able to go to greater lengths than most golfers who want to get better. But that doesn't mean those golfers, a category into which I fit, haven't thought about trying any or all of the things he did in the book. That contributes to the hilarious, but humbling nature of the book. We can laugh at his exploits as he does, and maybe we can learn some of the lessons he does as well.
This book is more than a diary of Carl Hiaasen's golf rounds. The Downhill Lie is a poignant commentary on why so many of us endure the constant frustrations associated with the game of golf. The author uses the comedy of his situation to show exactly why, when this game keeps knocking us down, we get right back up and make another tee time.
I recommend this book if you struggle with golf, or know someone who does (which I think is just about everyone, right?). This book will probably not help you be a better golfer, but at least you'll see you're not alone. If you aren't into the game yourself, and you've wondered why we torture ourselves the way we do, The Downhill Lie offers great insight. It was both funny and right-on-target portraying the mind of a golfer...or most golfers anyway. I really liked this book.
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