“All I had left was a folded ten-dollar bill in my watch pocket and one dead chicken”
If you fancy a taste of masculine, gritty reality, this is definitely going to float your boat. I have to say I was a little put off initially by the title. The thought of cock fighting, a particularly brutal “sport” in of itself was enough to make me think twice.
There is something ultra-real about Frank, his constant movement, his dragged out engagement and his gambling; his runs of bad luck and his frantic couplings on the road. At the same time, there is something equally foreign about the setting and time.
I know this review is a little on the concise side, yet I feel this is something you - potential reader - should discover on your own.
4 out of 5 ruffled feathers may fly.