This first novel by broadcaster and Golf Magazine
columnist Feherty is a totally silly, completely unbelievable tall tale that succeeds more often than it fails because of the vibrancy of the voice and the straightforwardness of the telling. Scrought's Wood is the world's oldest and strangest golf course, so venerable it makes St. Andrew's look like a teenager. The membership has dwindled to nine, and the club, buried deep in Scottish gorse and heather, is virtually unknown to the outside world. Every 50 years, led by its owner and chairman Sir Richard Gusset ("Uncle Dickie"), its members compete in a golf match against the McGregor clan, a rough and ready gaggle of Scottish hillbillies, the prize being the petrified middle finger of St. Andrew, the patron saint of Scotland. Scrought's Wood, using very devious tactics, wins "The Digit," as it is known, only to have it stolen back by the McGregors while the old duffers are reveling in their victory. Scrought's Wood's members are gleefully eccentric, plagued by hilarious ailments, defects and unmentionable afflictions. When the outside world insists they allow a woman to join the club, one of the old-timers has a sex change operation. It would be awfully easy to dismiss this novel as trivial and inane, for many of the jokes are painfully set-up groaners, while others miss the mark entirely. Overall, one is often reminded of smirking teenage boys talking about sex. But there is a cheerfulness and a spit-in-the-face-of-authority aura about it that makes it the Naked Gun
of golf literature. (Mar.)
Forecast:Feherty, a former professional golfer, is a popular CBS commentator with a ready-made following; many will recognize Scrought's Wood from its appearances in the pages of
Golf Magazine. His author tour engagements should be well attended, and he's a natural for radio and TV interviews.
