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chwaters's review against another edition
3.0
I've been a Tom Robbins fan since the age of 15, when I picked up a copy of Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas at an airport gift shop. It was the only thing that wasn't a thriller/mystery/romance and I'd heard of Robbins before, so it seemed like the thing to do. As it turned out, that book was something of a revelation; it was unlike anything else I'd ever read. So I began acquiring his other novels. And read and reread them. Naturally, when I heard that Robbins had a memoir/autobiography out, I felt almost obligated to read it. I felt I owed it to myself and to Robbins to meet the brain behind the fiction. I was not disappointed. Robbins has lived a fascinating life and his anecdotes are laced with his trademark wordplay and sense of humor. I'm not sure that someone who had never heard of Robbins would enjoy this particular book, but those who are fans will find this quite entertaining. My only real issue with this memoir is the lack of a structured narrative. Each chapter is more a short story or vignette detailing a specific period of time in Robbins' life. They're more or less arranged chronologically. It's best not to go into this expecting the traditional memoir/autobiography format, because, much like Robbins' novels, experimenting with the form is par for the course. The stop-and-go nature made it very difficult for me to read this in a short period of time. Rather, I just read a few chapters and would then put it down for a few days. Needless to say, it took me an eternity to read and, while I more or less enjoyed the process, it did get tedious from time to time. For those wanting to know more about Robbins' early life and works, this is an ideal place to start.
cpeters137's review against another edition
3.0
Five stars for the first half of the book; two for the rest. His prose, as usual, is more finely crafted than much poetry, but I find it hard to believe that he lived in the same sixties that I did. Really, there are no bad drugs, only bad drug users (my paraphrase). The first part of the book is funny and interesting, but it becomes dull and almost stereotypical toward the end.
ashalah's review against another edition
3.0
I'm giving it 3 stars, instead of 2, because I loved the first half of the book. The second half I found myself waiting for it to end. It seemed to change from funny storytelling to outright bragging. There were a few chapters towards the end where the feel of the first half of the book came through and I enjoyed those but overall, wasn't that impressed.
leeann20's review against another edition
4.0
It is better to imagine heaven than to go there. Oh how perfect Mr. Robbins
botrap's review against another edition
3.0
A memoir mixed with vivid hyperbole, this book details a life well-lived over countless decades
splows's review against another edition
3.0
If you love Tom Robbins, then it's a good read. I like him but was expecting the book to be more about his books and how he developed the ideas. Instead the book focused a lot on childhood anecdotes and all of his wives/girlfriends and the many children that came in and out of his life. Oddly, he seemed very unemotional about it all. At the end I was left feeling a bit empty and unfulfilled.
mastercabs's review against another edition
3.0
This might be the first memoir (I know he says that this isn't really supposed to be a memoir, but I think that's the reluctance of a writer to be defined with in a form.) I've ever read, so anything negative I might say about it could be more at the genre than this actual offering. Robbins' life is parts envy-making, excruciating, and noteworthy. Some of the cringey parts of this are clearly intended for the reader to cringe along with him, but there are quite a few that make me cringe AT him, as well. Published eight years ago, I don't think that some bits of this have aged well even in that time. Suffice to say, I sincerely doubt Robbins cares at all. And that may be the most envy-making part of his whole life. As lucky as he was to have come into writing in the "era of expense accounts" (he's the second novelist I've seen make this point - Vonnegut was the first, and they're certainly somewhat contemporaneous) perhaps the bigger point is that, at least according to this, he stumbles into the things that he does. These are his own words, but they manage to make him seem cool without being overly egotistical. He obviously tries to veer away from that. The accounts of his interactions with famous people seem less there to make him seem cool and more to draw attention to the fame as something external that added another element to the situation. (Though a few of the anecdotes about his rapport with women make me want to know the other side of the story.)
All that having been said, I return to the fact that Robbins is clearly satisfied with a pretty wild life and deserves to be. Say what you will about him, I get the sense that he's not going to care. And, if he's done all that he's done without animus or cupidity, who can really stand in judgment? Isn't that the best that anyone can really do, act without hostility or greed?
Alright, I had originally written this as a two star review, but meditating on it a bit has had me throw in a third. The last section of this I found to be somewhat depressing because I think I'd always wanted to live the kind of life that he describes, but after what he and Vonnegut wrote about what the life of an author is in more contemporary times, it would appear that it just doesn't exist anymore. That having been said, I think the only thing a person can do is try to be optimistic about what comes next and go out there and make it happen.
All that having been said, I return to the fact that Robbins is clearly satisfied with a pretty wild life and deserves to be. Say what you will about him, I get the sense that he's not going to care. And, if he's done all that he's done without animus or cupidity, who can really stand in judgment? Isn't that the best that anyone can really do, act without hostility or greed?
Alright, I had originally written this as a two star review, but meditating on it a bit has had me throw in a third. The last section of this I found to be somewhat depressing because I think I'd always wanted to live the kind of life that he describes, but after what he and Vonnegut wrote about what the life of an author is in more contemporary times, it would appear that it just doesn't exist anymore. That having been said, I think the only thing a person can do is try to be optimistic about what comes next and go out there and make it happen.
wilsonthomasjoseph's review against another edition
I've read two not-so-promising Robbins books recently: this one and *Beer*. Shame.
Although I'm glad I read this. It gives you some Robbins personality that you can take with you when you read his other novels, but I can't help but think a lot of this is self-glorifying stuff. I would have rather a memoir than what he wrote here. Ironic since he thinks memoirs are the stuff of self-glory and takes a lot of pain to elucidate in his introduction.
I still love Robbins, and feel terrible giving such a bad reviews for his last two works, but you have to think that sometimes even the best don't hit their mark.
Although I'm glad I read this. It gives you some Robbins personality that you can take with you when you read his other novels, but I can't help but think a lot of this is self-glorifying stuff. I would have rather a memoir than what he wrote here. Ironic since he thinks memoirs are the stuff of self-glory and takes a lot of pain to elucidate in his introduction.
I still love Robbins, and feel terrible giving such a bad reviews for his last two works, but you have to think that sometimes even the best don't hit their mark.