Fluke: or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings by Christopher Moore
Take about a gallon of
Frank Capra and mix it liberally with the class clown who somehow learned how to write, add a pound or so of barnacles scrapped off Moby Dick, sprinkle in Joseph Conrad and Jules Verne to taste, and then add a whole lotta Roger Corman's
Humanoids from the Deep as watched a dozen times, or maybe thirty, and then discussed and re-imagined by Mel and Max Brooks and you have, roughly,
Fluke. Oh, and add some empathy for marine biology and research into whale behavior and the behavior of researchers, much of which is added to the story, but never allowed to get in its way.
Nate and Clay are researching humpback whales, trying to understand why the humpbacks' sing. On the day Nate things he sees a humpback with strange markings on his tale -- strange markings the read "Bite me" -- strange things begin happening to the compound they work in and to their equipment, and Nate starts to wonder if someone is threatened by their research, not that he thinks they're at all close to an answer. In the meantime, the reader is introduced to Kona, the New Jersey surfer kid who thinks he's a Rastafarian or at least tries to be one; Amy, the research assistant Nate is attracted to and whose vocabulary includes calling guys she doesn't like mooks, jamokes, and maroons, among other dated epithets; and Elizabeth Robinson, who finances the research, whom they affectionately call the Old Broad, and who talks to a whale. On the phone.
Somehow this all works to create a cohesive, if episodic and absurd story, that is frequently funny -- laugh out loud funny, at least for me -- and sometimes a little touching.