Skinny Legs And All - Tom Robbins

   1990; 422 pages.  New Author? : No.  Genre : Satire; Contemporary Fiction; Humorous American Literature.  Overall Rating : 8*/10.

    Everybody’s either on the move or about to be.

    The newlyweds Boomer Petway and Ellen Cherry Charles, are traveling from Seattle to New York City, because the art scene is better in NYC, and Ellen is an aspiring painter.  The Airstream motor home they’re driving is a turkey.  Really.  Well, a mechanical one, welded together by Boomer, but nevertheless looking like something from a giant’s Thanksgiving dinner table.

    The mystically enchanted duo of Painted Stick and Conch Shell have lain dormant for centuries, but they’re about to be revived by the utterance of the magic word.  No, not abracadabra, but “Jezebel!” They’re stuck in a cave in the Pacific Northwest right now, but their ultimate goal will be Phoenicia, in what is present-day Lebanon.  Good luck, you two.  Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

    Can o’ Beans, Spoon, and Dirty Sock are about to be awakened alongside Painted Stick and Conch Shell, and will use their newfound mobility to tag along with their benefactors.  The lack of innate enchantment may prove to be a handicap.

    Spike Cohen and Roland Abu Hadee (aka “Isaac and Ishmael”) are about to open a restaurant across the street from the United Nations. They intend to prove that a business partnership between a Jew and an Arab can not only survive, but even flourish.  Good luck, guys.  You’re gonna need it.

    The televangelist, Reverend Buddy Winkler, is tired of God fiddle-farting around when it comes to Armageddon and building the Third Temple in Jerusalem.  He intends to help the Almighty by kick-starting the End of Days.

    Their paths will all converge near St. Paul’s Cathedral, but it should be noted: none of them has “skinny legs and all”.

What’s To Like...

    Tom Robbins uses Skinny Legs and All to present his theory that our views of the world are shrouded by illusions stemming from various sources.  He focuses on seven areas – Race, Politics (the desire to have power over others), Marriage, Art (its inherent pretentiousness), Religion (dogma and tradition overwhelm brotherhood), Money (the false security of it), and Lust.  Since these are blinding our eyes to what is real, the author likens them to Salome’s “Dance of the Seven Veils”.  Straightforward expounding on this would probably be tedious to most readers, so Robbins wraps them up in a tale where our protagonist, Ellen Cherry, gradually starts seeing through these veils.

    As with any Tom Robbins novel, the writing is sublimely superb.  Every sentence, no matter how unimportant, seems to be a work of literary art.  There are similes aplenty, and Robbins has always been a wizard at using them.  One random example: “Looking at you in your kimono, it felt like some backyard chef was sprinkling meat tenderizer on my heart.”  Wowza.  The storyline is divided into seven sections, each addressing one of the seven veils.  The character development is also fantastic; any writer can build a personality for some person in his novel, but try doing that for a can of baked beans.

    Religion gets a extended analysis here, especially the three  major Western ones – Christianity, Islam, and Judaism.  The Old Testament is common to all three, and Tom Robbins gives a new take on their collective origins, suggesting that it “borrows” much from (earlier) pagan religions featuring Astarte/Ishtar and other deities.  The Crusades is seen from the Moslem point-of-view, and modern-day televangelism is viewed in all its hypocritical zeal.

    I very much enjoyed the "animate inanimate" objects.  In addition to the five already mentioned, you’ll also be privy to the thoughts from a glob of goo, a drawer of panties, and a vibrator that spouts off inane-sounding Zen aphorisms.

    Skinny Legs And All is awash in fascinating trivia references.  I had to look up David Hockney and Pouilly-Fumé.  Donald Trump gets cited twice, which is a bit eerie since the book was written in 1990.  Bonnie Raitt makes a cameo appearance, so do Monet’s water lilies.  And the recorded voice of the operator cutting in on Ellen Cherry’s pay phone conversation, to request that she deposit more coins to continue talking, brought back nostalgic memories for me.

    The ending is a mixed affair.  On one hand, the Boomer/Ellen relationship thread is resolved, at least for the moment.  OTOH, the fate of a lot of the other characters seemed to be left in limbo.  A street performer named Turn Around Norman just fades into oblivion, after having played a prominent role in the tale.  And the god/gods/goddesses “Pale” (Wiki he/she/them) must surely still have plans for Conch Shell and Painted Stick.  Yet I don't believe Tom Robbins ever penned a sequel to this.

Kewlest New Word ...

Odalisque (n.) : a female slave or concubine in a harem.

Others: Pouf (n., slang)

Excerpts...

    What was a can of beans but a pawn in the game of consumption?  From field to factory, from market to household, from cook pot to lunch plate, the destiny of a can of beans was as sealed as it was simple.  Ultimate destination: rust heap and sewage pond.  Yet, he/she had managed to escape the norm, to taste a freedom unimagined by others of his/her “lowly” station.  Moreover, were the lives of most humans any better?  When humans were young, they were pushed around in strollers.  When they were old, they were pushed around in wheelchairs.  In between, they were just pushed around.  (pg. 110

    Spike Cohen alone seemed to remember how dangerous the I-&-I could be.  From his post behind the cash register, he kept one eye on the street, as if the street were a crocodile-skin shoe that might at any moment revert to its original state of being.  When, around the corner of First Avenue, a truck backfired, thin electrical noises came out of his windpipe.

    Spike’s jitters were for naught.  Except for the fact that they ran out of chick-peas, the evening produced scant catastrophe.  The next evening was positively humdrum.  And the one after that was as bereft of disorder as a Heidelburg symposium on anal retention.  In truth, the entire winter passed as peacefully and leisurely as a python digesting a Valium addict.  (pg. 261)

Back around Seattle (…) trees were so thick, so robust and tall, that they oozed green gas, sported mossy mustaches, and yelled “Timber, yourself!” at lumberjacks.  (pg. 11)

     There's a lot of cussing, a couple of rolls in the hay, and a slew of sexual references, but this is true of any Tom Robbins novel.   For me, the storyline started rather slowly, but things picked once the inanimate objects started speaking.  Still, there were times when the plot progression seemed to slow to a crawl.

    I think one’s enjoyment of Skinny Legs And All depends on whether you want the story to be plotline-driven or thought-provoking.  If you want the former, you may be disappointed; if you want the latter, you’ll be blown away.  I wanted both, naturally, and Tom Robbins’ writing mastery trumps any quibbles I may have had about the storytelling.

    8 Stars.  Skinny Legs And All was almost as good as my favorite Tom Robbins book, Still Life With Woodpecker (reviewed here).  It gave me a lot to think about concerning the illusions of our world, and …HEY!!  Did that can of beans sitting on the kitchen counter just say something?!

Wild Ducks Flying Backward - Tom Robbins

   2005; 255 pages.  New Author? : No.   Full Title : Wild Ducks Flying Backward, The Short Writings of Tom Robbins.  Genre : Selected Writings.  Overall Rating : 9*/10.

    What happens when you take the Novel out of a Novelist?  Wild Ducks Flying Backward examines Tom Robbins in that light via a slew of short-but-diverse pieces he’s written over the course of nearly 40 years (1967-2005) for a variety of magazines, newspapers, etc.

    What you get is a different shade of Robbins.  It’s more vivid, especially when’s he’s hyping the local (Seattle area) culture; and more complex when he’s reviewing a celebrity.  It’s also brighter when he’s tossing a poem at you; and lighter when he’s composing a song or a ditty for his young son.

What’s To Like...
    The writings aren’t in chronological order; they’re grouped into the following sections :
    Travel Articles  (pg. 7)
    Tributes  (pg. 55)
    Stories, Poems, and Lyrics  (pg. 125)
    Musings and Critiques  (pg. 175)
    Responses  (pg. 225)

    There’s a handy Table of Contents, so you can easily locate a personal favorite.  Tom Robbins’ travels, tastes, opinions, and creations cover a broad spectrum.  If you run into a topic that doesn’t tickle your fancy, be of good cheer – the next article will be on something completely different.

    FWIW, my favorite sections were the “Poems” and the “Responses”.  But this is like picking your favorite M&M color – all the sections were tasty.  My favorite articles were The Doors (55); Leonard Cohen (77); Write About One of your Favorite Things (225); Till Lunch Do Us Part (188); and My Heart is not a Poodle (153).  He even includes three great pieces of Haiku, a verse form that is easy to do, but almost impossible to do well.

    But it is Tom Robbins’ fabulous writing style and masterful vocabulary that will have you gasping in awe.  Without a storyline to rein things in, he can let his literary artistry flow.  The subject may bore you; the wordplay wizardry will not.  Every page dazzles.

Kewlest New Word...
Vagitus (n.) : the crying of a newborn baby.

Excerpts...
    Few who ever heard it forget her voice- which sounds as if it’s been strained through Bacall and Bogey’s honeymoon sheets and then hosed down with plum brandy.  Or her laugh – which sounds as if it’s being squeezed out of a kangaroo bladder by a musical aborigine.  (pg. 119)

    To pragmatists, the letter Z is nothing more than a phonetically symbolic glyph, a minor sign easily learned, readily assimilated, and occasionally deployed in the course of a literate life.  To cynics, Z is just an S with a stick up its butt.
    Well, true enough, any word worth repeating is greater than the sum of its parts; and the particular word-part Z – angular, whereas S is curvaceous – can, from a certain perspective, appear anally wired (although Z is far too sophisticated to throw up its arms like Y and act as if it had just been goosed).  (pg. 225)

 “The shore of Puget Sound is where electric guitars cut their teeth and old haiku go to die.”  (pg. 235)
    There were some slow spots.  The tributes on people I know were fascinating, but when it was someone I was unfamiliar with, I lost interest.  Ditto for some of the Seattle artist blurbs – the critiques are detailed, but one gets the feeling that there were pictures of the artists' works to go along with the original articles.  In fairness, my curiosity was piqued enough to google-image said artists.  I found Leo Kenney to be fantastic; Morris Louis to be so-so.

    There also were times – especially in the literary critiques – when Robbins’ writing just went Whoosh! right over my head.  But I still enjoyed the wordsmanship, and Robbins can hardly be faulted for not dumbing down his literary intricacies to my level.

    So here’s an exercise to try.  Select a letter of the alphabet, and write a 2-page essay on it.  When you’re done, compare it to Tom Robbins’ ode to the letter Z, the beginning of which is given in the second excerpt, above.

    See what I mean about him being a wordmeister sans pareil?

    All in all, Wild Ducks Flying Backward demonstrates that Tom Robbins can pen a stellar piece in just about any writing field he chooses.  9 Stars.  Add a half-star if you live in the Seattle area; subtract one star if what you really read Tom Robbins for is his crazy storytelling.

Another Roadside Attraction - Tom Robbins

    1971; 337 pages.  New Author? : No.  Genre : Comedy-Drama.  Overall Rating : 7*/10.

    Welcome to Captain Kendrick’s Memorial Hot Dog Wildlife Preserve.  There’s not a lot of wildlife – a flea circus, a couple of snakes, and a tsetse fly entombed in amber.  They do have hotdogs, of course, but there’s no coffee or soft drinks to go along with them.

    But pretty Amanda will charm you with sparkling chit-chat, and John Paul might play his flute for you.  Mon Cul the baboon is part of the staff, not part of the exhibit.  And you never know who is going to drop by the place, and what they might bring with them.

What’s To Like...
    All the characters are well-developed and interesting.  There are militant monks, Vatican secrets, and FBI agents.  The plotline is non-linear, but done well enough so that is wasn’t confusing.  If you are old enough to remember the 60’s, you’ll find the mindsets in Another Roadside Attraction very nostalgic.

    If you yearn to learn more about things like monarch butterflies, baboons, and 30-foot-long hot dogs, this book’s for you.  Indeed, there’s scarcely a page where Tom Robbins doesn’t go off on one or more tangents.

    The main tangent is religion, and I got the feeling that Robbins’ primary purpose in penning this was to give us his insightful and often caustic views on the subject.  Each character has his own philosophical outlook.  Marx is an agnostic; Plucky Purcell’s a skeptic, John Paul Ziller comes off as a stoic, and Amanda’s into the 60’s hippie-dippie stuff - worshipping the Earth Goddess, consulting the I Ching, and having trances.

    The literary accoutrements are all well and good here; unfortunately something’s missing – a well-paced story.  Oh, Plucky purloins an artifact from the Pope, but the book’s half over before this happens, and since the tale is told first-person and after-the-fact, there’s really no tension generated.  The repercussions of the robbery impact our little roadside attraction, and it could’ve made for an exciting climax, but instead the book just sort of trudges along to the end.

    If you’re into musing about God, religion, and the role of the church; this can be an enlightening read.  But if you’re more storyline-oriented (like I am), you may become frustrated by all the tale-stifling divergences.

Kewlest New Word…
    Twilit (adj.) : dimly illuminated by or as if by twilight.  Synonym : Crepuscular

Excerpts...
    “There are three things that I like,” Amanda exclaimed upon awakening from her first long trance.  “These are: the butterfly, the cactus and the Infinite Goof.”
    Later, she amended the list to include mushrooms and motorcycles.  (pg. 4 )

    “Our laws are sacred.”
    “Aren’t our people sacred?”
    “Until a law is removed legally from the statute books, it must be obeyed blindly by everybody if we want to continue to live in a democratic society and not slide back into anarchy.  We’ve got to have laws and retribution.  Ever since we crawled out of caves, retribution has followed wrongdoing as the night the day.  When retribution ceases to follow evil, then the fabric of civilization begins to unravel.”
    Amanda stirred the custard.  “If we’ve always had retribution, how do you know what happens when we don’t have it?” she asked.   (pg. 250)

“When following the spoor of the Mirror Eaters it is wise not to tread on their droppings.”  (pg. 132)
    I found ARA to be a bit rough around the edges, mostly because of the weak storytelling.  A number of characters are introduced and developed, only to fade out and not return.  The pacing was uneven, and after a while, I cringed as yet another tangent arose to slow things down.

    But what saves the book from dropping into the “I struggled to complete it” category is the author’s innate writing talent.  Simply put, Tom Robbins is a master with words.  I still don’t care a whit about the monarch butterflies, but I am awed by the way he tells me about them.

    This was Robbins’ debut novel.  The next three are Even Cowgirls Get The Blues, Still Life With Woodpecker, and Jitterbug Perfume.  I’ve read them all, and they are all polished, stellar works.  Despite its shortcomings, Another Roadside Attraction was fun to read, just to be dazzled by Robbins’ deft manipulation of the words.  7 Stars.

Half Asleep In Frog Pajamas - Tom Robbins

1994; 386 pages.  New Author? : No.  Genre : Contemporary Fiction; Humor.  Overall Rating : 7½*/10.

    The Thursday before Easter has been the worst day of Gwendolyn Mati's life.  She's a stockbroker in Seattle, and the market has just crashed like a go-kart in a destruction derby.  She'll probably lose her job on Monday (the market's closed on Good Friday) unless she figures out a way to cover up her losses.  If she doesn't come up with something, she can kiss her dreams of wealth and affluence goodbye.

    But hang on to your tattered panties, Gwendolyn, because your life is about to get as surreal as a Salvador Dali painting on acid.  Your boyfriend's born-again monkey has escaped, your 300-lb Tarot-reading girlfriend has disappeared, and some long-haired wacko just back from Timbuktu says the fun is just beginning.

What's To Like...
    Half Asleep In Frog Pajamas is told in the second-person.  When's the last time you've read a book from that perspective?  To boot, a male author crawls inside a female character's head, and that's always a challenge.

    Our heroine is not all that likeable - and that's a plus for me.  She's greedy, manipulative, and a bit of a snot.  But she has a good heart, a good head, and a good bod; so things kinda even out.

    And of course, this is Tom Robbins, which means you're being treated to some great writing, some zany plotlines, and humor that ranges from subtle to slapstick.  Robbins has a gift of creating unique and fascinating personalities, and here you're given a bonus of about a zillion similes/metaphors that rival even Terry Pratchett for sheer hilarity.

Kewlest New Word...
Isochronous : occurring at the same time.

Excerpts...
    Belford is lying on the bed, eyes closed and an expression on his face that could end three Italian operas and still have enough anguish left over to butter an existentialist's toast.  You lie down beside him.  You wish only to comfort him, you tell yourself - as if Belford could not be comfortable with his fly fully buttoned.  (pg. 58)

    No, no, no.  Ridiculous.  Animals, even intelligent animals - perhaps most especially intelligent animals - do not share man's pathetic need to socialize bliss, codify awe, pigeonhole the Mystery, and tame the Divine.  For an ape, born twice is entirely redundant, since an ape gets it right the first time.  At least, that is how Q-Jo has put it.  Personally, you haven't a clue in spiritual matters, but you do know, or deeply suspect, that a monkey who once mingled with aristocrats in Swiss ski resorts and movie stars on the French Riviera, would find the company of Seattle Lutherans drab, dour, and dorky beyond all belief.  (pg. 228)

Mediocrity's a hairball coughed up on the Persian carpet of Creation.  (pg. 158)
    For all its wit and wackiness, HAIFP will never be touted as Robbins' tour de force.  The stock market setting doesn't make for lots of thrills and spills, and the theme - that we Americans are too materialistic - while probably true, has been done to death.

    The ending is a letdown.  A number of plotlines never get resolved, which means you end up with enough MacGuffins to stage a family reunion.  Half Asleep In Frog Pajamas screams for a sequel, but none has been penned in the ensuing 18 years.

    It's still worth 7½ Stars, cuz it is Tom Robbins, and it is a delight to read.  Just don't get too involved in the storyline itself, and tell yourself that it has an existential ending.

Jitterbug Perfume - Tom Robbins

1984; 342 pages. New Author? : No. Genre : Modern Lit. Tom Robbins' 4th novel. Overall Rating : 9*/10.

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In an 8th-century kingdom in Bohemia, they have a strange custom. At the first sign of old age, the king is ritually killed and replaced with someone younger. In this way, the "spirit" of the tribe is kept strong.

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King Alobar has never had a problem with this edict. Until the day the first gray hair appeared in his beard. He plucked it out, but more took its place. Alobar discovers he is not quite ready to put his head on the chopping block, so he fakes his death and flees eastward. But Death can be a persistent chaser.

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Meanwhile, in the present, we are introduced to a waitress in Seattle, two Cajun ladies in New Orleans, and a French business family in Paris. All are trying to concoct the perfect jasmine perfume. How is Tom Robbins going to bring all three of these parties together, not to mention tying Alobar into the story as well? And what do the prominently-themed beets have to do with anything?

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What's To Like...

Jitterbug Perfume is a wonderful read, combining serious issues (religion, business ethics, philosophy, self-determination and above all, immortality) with some clever plot twists, literary devices (puns, metaphors, and similes), and hilarious topics (the secret of the beet, Einstein's last words, the "King of the Bean", and of course, perfumery).

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The supporting cast are as fun to follow as the main characters. You meet the Greek god Pan, Dr. Dannyboy Wiggs, Bingo Pajamas, and the dancing, chanting Bandaloop Doctors. There's also a love story. And a lot of sex. It keeps you young, you know.

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Kewlest New Word...

Loa : the spirits in the (Haitian) Voodoo world.

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Excerpts...

"Ricki, do you believe in immortality?"

"I'll try anything once." (pg. 113)

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Their quarreling chewed through the curtains, pierced the casements, and rattled over the cobblestones outside. How strange it must have sounded, this quarreling about dematerialization, voluntary aging, goat gods, and immortality, to a city that was primed for the Age of Reason, a populace that was beginning to put Descartes before des horse. (pg. 174)

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"One last thing about death, " said Wiggs.

"What's that?" Pris asked rather morosely. She was still staring at the spot where his teardrop had hit the water.

"After you die, your hair and your nails continue to grow."

"I've heard that."

"Yes. But your phone calls taper off." (pg. 285)

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"I may be mad ... but I prefer the sh*t of this world to whatever sweet ambrosias the next might offer." (pg. 29)

The clever wit of Jitterbug Perfume will keep you turning the pages as you read it in bed, but Tom Robbins' views on the serious themes will keep awake thinking long after you've turned out the light.

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Overall, his two main points seem to be : 1.) There is not a shred of empirical evidence that the afterlife exists, let along any solid details on what it's like. 2.) That being the case, all theological explanations - Salvation, Reincarnation, the pantheon of Greek Gods, etc.; are equally plausible.

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Jitterbug Perfume presents its own account of the afterlife, but you certainly don't get the impression that Robbins expects you to take it seriously. Indeed, the "moral" of the book is given in a single German-sounding made-up word : Erleichda. Which loosely translated means "Lighten up!"

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Jitterbug Perfume is a fine follow-up to Robbins' Still Life With Woodpecker (reviewed here). Highly recommended. 9 Stars.

Still Life With Woodpecker - Tom Robbins

1980; 277 pages. New Author? : No. Genre : Modern Lit; Humor. Overall Rating : 9½*/10.

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Leigh-Cheri, the exiled and virginal Furstenberg-Barcalona princess, heads to Maui to attend Care Fest, where she hopes to learn all about ecology, meditation, vitamins, and UFO's. Instead, she crosses paths with outlaw-bomber Bernard Mickey Wrangle, who introduces her to Love. But the question is - how do you make Love last?

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What's To Like...

There's humor on every page. The storyline is great, and the ending doesn't disappoint. At its core, Still Life With Woodpecker is a romance, yet both male and female readers will find it appealing. And it does answer the primal question - how to make Love stay.

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The pacing is nice, but Robbins also finds time to go off on a slew of tangents, discussing a wide range of topics such as the difference between an outlaw and a criminal; the lost continent of Mu; how to make bombs from everyday components (Such as a deck of cards. Eat your heart out, McGyver!); an improved plotline to The Grapes of Wrath; the cosmological contrast between the Sun and the Moon; why redheads always seem so weird; and last but not least - the many mystical messages hidden on the cover of a pack of Camel cigarettes.

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Then there are the groan-inducing similes. Some examples : "teardrops bucked out of Leigh-Cheri's eyes like bronco amoebae leaving the chutes in a biology lab rodeo". Or "his lower lip quivered like a snail that had just learned the meaning of escargot." There are dozens more.

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Kewl New Words...

Fimbrillate : having small or tiny hinges. Fecundity : fertility. Renifleur : a person turned on or gratified by certain odors. Cromlech : a prehistoric monument consisting of monoliths encircling a (burial) mound. Sidereal : relating to stars or constellations.

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Excerpts...

His wife, the Queen, once the beauty of seven capitals, was understimulated and overweight. She had attended, in America, so many second-rate society teas, charity fashion shows, and gala this and gala thats, that she'd begun to exude a kind of paté de fois gras gas, and the expulsion of this effluvium propelled her from party to ball as if she were a sausage skin inflated by Wagner. (pg 5-6)

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The Furstenberg-Barcalona homeland was now ruled by a right-wing military junta, supported by the United States government and, of course, the Roman Catholic Church. While the U.S. publicly regretted that the junta permitted so few civil liberties, it was loath to interfere in the internal affairs of a sovereign nation, particularly a nation that could be relied upon as an ally against those left-leaning nations in whose internal affairs the U.S. did regularly interfere. (pg. 7)

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That year, spring came to the Puget Sound country as it frequently does, like a bride's maid climbing a greased pole. After a gradual, precarious ascent, spring, in a triumph of frills and blooms and body heat, would seem ot have finally arrived, only to suddenly slide down into the mud again, leaving winter's wet flag flapping stiffly and singularly at the top of the seasonal staff. Then, girlish bosom heaving, spring would shinny slowly back up the pole. (pg. 148)

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"Outlaws are the can openers in the supermarket of life." (pg. 65)

Tom Robbins' style in Still Life With Woodpecker reminds me a lot of Kurt Vonnegut, with some Terry Pratchett humor added for flavor, and a dash of Charles Bukowski stirred in for spice. For me, this novel was funny, insightful, and interesting; all without taking itself too seriously. Its R-Rated portions may offend some; and others may tire of its tangents. I thought everything came together just fine.

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So if you are bummed because Vonnegut has passed on and there will never be a sequel to The Sirens of Titan, be of good cheer, and give this book a try. 9½ Stars.

Even Cowgirls Get The Blues - Tom Robbins

1976; 416 pages. Genre : Modern Lit. A Counter-Culture Classic. Overall Rating : B.

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ECGTB is the story of one Sissy Hankshaw, who's the Tiger Woods of hitchhiking, thanks to two super-sized thumbs and a love for the open highway. In her travels, she crosses paths with the all-girl Rubber Rose Ranch, the last flock of migrating whooping cranes, the author posing as a psychiatrist, a lust-crazed Japanese guru that everyone thinks is Chinese, a full-blooded Mohawk whom she marries, a peyote queen, and a Countess who's a "he".

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What's To Like...

When he's advancing the plot, Robbins has the rawness of Bukowski, the humor of Vonnegut, the word-weaving wit of Plath, and the simile and metaphor magic of Pratchett. Wow. In addition, he sprinkles in some interesting ancedotes (some maybe even factual) such as Robert Schumann doing finger-stretching exercises, and F. Scott Fitzgerald dying while eating a Butterfingers candy bar. He also occasionally engages in "verbing" (which I still think should be called 'verbalizing').

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There is a lot of sex here, and all sorts of it - straight, gay, bi, group, and auto. The sex passages fit in well, but this is not a book for the kiddies. Robbins takes on religion and all sorts of hippie-days issues, such as "finding oneself". He doesn't have much use for us westerners getting into Eastern gurus, suggesting that we instead should reconnect with our pagan past.

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Alas, after a stellar first third of the book, Robbins starts halting the storyline to go Dan-Brown preachy on us, often for 20 pages or so at a pop. Most notable and lengthy are the Sissy-and-the shrink and Sissy-and-the-Ch*nk diatribes. Hasn't he heard of "show, don't tell"? Some of his philosophical mush is probably good, but there are also things like "I believe in everything, nothing is sacred. I believe in nothing, everything is sacred." That reminds me of Inspector Clousseau's (Pink Panther) line : "I suspect everybody. I suspect nobody." Yeah, they both have equal merit as far as life-guiding advice goes.

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Excerpts...

In the evenings, light from an ever-increasing number of television sets inflicted a misleading frostiness on the air. It has been said that true albinos produce light of similar luminescence when they move their bowels.

Middays, the city felt like the inside of a napalmed watermelon. (pg. 42, describing South Richmond)

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"You're either for us or a Guinness." (pg. 311)

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New/Cool Words...

Atavistic (the reappearance of a characteristic in an organism after several generations of absence); Pellucid (crystalline, transmitting light); Limbic (of the interconnected brain structures involved with emotions, motivation, etc.); Impastoed (applied via thick layers of pigment to a canvas or other surface); Gloaming (twilight); Extirpate (to pull up by the roots). There was also "mambaskin" which means, straightforwardly enough, "the skin of a mamba". For some reason when I read it, I broke it down into "mam - baskin" and drew a total blank.

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"Ha ha, ho ho, and hee hee"

This seems to be a love-it-or-hate-it book for most readers. I found it to be both. When he was moving the storyline forward, it was a great read. But the philosophical exegesis and the ending were both self-indulgent. I give it a "B"(or one giant Sissy Hankshaw 'thumbs up'), since the good parts are more prevalent than the bad parts.

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Even Cowgirls Get The Blues broke new ground when it came out in 1976, especially regarding lesbian and bisexual relationships. But it's written by a heterosexual male, and I wonder whether today Robbins' views would seem dated to GLBT readers.