As I have been doing next to nothing outside of teaching eight year olds how to swim breast stroke (still? or again? your call) and (re)reading everything in the house, I feel as though I can only really write about one of two things and seeing as how eight year old swimmers are less interesting than Tom Robbins, books it is.
A very wise and well read love of mine, affectionally referred to by her last name only, lives for this book. In fact, the potential that she owns more than one copy is staggering. And I have had brief love affairs with Mr. Robbins in the past, but none such as this.
Now I’m no critic. And my literary street cred was seriously damaged this year (damn you, Robert Pattinson), but any work as concerned with, that most devastating of questions, how to make love stay, is okay with me. Outside of the fact that Robbins is a genius and more gifted a writer this side of ww2 I have yet to meet (yeah, Kerouac, I said it) - a fairy tale for grownups about Camel cigarettes? A contemporary work worth reading with a dictionary near by (my favorite)? Some point commentary on the last half of the twentieth century? Do yourself a favor.
