Tom Robbins is the wizard of all things words. He can twist, mutate, squish,
and squeeze words in a way no one else ever has. Any one of these books--Even Cowgirls Get the Blues,
Another Roadside Attraction, Half Asleep in
Frog Pajamas, Still Life With Woodpecker, or Jitterbug Perfume--would have
been an entire career for any other writer. The fact that Robbins wrote
them all is a little hard to imagine.
In Tibetan Peach Pie, Robbins tries to take all that is hard to imagine--his life--and funnel it through his literary brainpan in such a way that it
reads like a novel. While it is vastly entertaining, delightful and
fact-filled, the truth is that it falls short of the titles mentioned above.
Like many of us--most of us, all of us--it's difficult to write about
ourselves. Talking about ourselves can leave us dry-mouthed. So when Robbins
turns inward to describe his own life and adventures in the same way he'd
write about one of the characters in his books, the lines don't quite
connect.
It would have been terrific to hear more about his actual writing process.
Many of his most important books are dismissed in a couple of pages or even
a couple of paragraphs, and you're left wondering why.
Still, any kind of glimpse behind the curtains of Robbins's thought
processes is a wonderful ride. He's befriended Hells Angels, trekked the
world, dabbled in psychedelics, become intimate with Hollywood, and a whole
lot more.
This is a fun book and, for the ardent fan, will provide hours of joy. But
some of us are waiting for his next joyful romp through the fields of
imagination when he creates a world populated by people with big thumbs
getting involved in the most fantastic adventures ever.