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A review by olicooper
Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life by Tom Robbins
2.0
So, originally picked this up without reading a synopsis or summary. I didn’t realize this is his memoir. I knew I read one of his novels, and just saw a sale tag with a book with Robbins name on the cover. This, is absolutely my fault. However, being me, once I start a book, it’s really hard to not finish it. This wasn’t so bad, but it just didn’t hold my interest throughout.
I would recommend this book only to die-hard Tom Robbins fans that are absolutely interested is a heap of stories that occur throughout his life. There isn’t much tying this all together, and reads rather like a disorganized, scattered, string of stories the drunk at the bar is relaying to make sure you know he is someone special. Don’t get me wrong, he is… it just gets a little tiring and I absolutely don’t care to hear one more Tommy Rotten story (SO many stories involving him with his childhood nickname, goofing off in school, wining a raffle out of sheer want and will, blah blah blah).
Robbins has been involved with a wide array of colorful characters, and tastes a bit of every walk of life. He included stories from growing up in the Depression, being involved with the beatniks, dropping acid before that became a scene; certainly he has had an interesting life. Some tales were memorable, funny, and/or charming: that time him and some buddies invented a cocktail mostly consisting of mayonnaise, the time he takes his first acid trip, the time Alan Ginsberg kissed him, the time he corrected gang members’ misspelling of their graffiti of their own name, etc.
I did love when he was talking about putting on some “happenings,” which essentially amount to performance art pieces. When one thinks of performance art, one may come to the conclusion that the folks putting on the piece take themselves too seriously. Well, Robbins doesn’t. And that makes those stories great. After a performer doesn’t show up, he has to improvise: lighting some money on fire, adding honey to the mixture, and eating it, all to the tune of some old fashioned Americana folk music. And the people love it. It’s controversial! It’s provocative! It’s hilarious… is what it is. He spins this tale, as he just wings all this shit. Never taking it or himself seriously, and the audience is never in on the joke.
Overall, Robbins is a great writer—descriptive writing, fierce wit—and I’d love to take a crack at another of his novels; though, this random collection of various events in his life just doesn’t compel me to devour the pages like I might with his fiction. I mentioned earlier how this reads like the drunk at the bar telling his life story, but I don’t think I’d be opposed to listening to that guy tell one or two of these tales over a beer or two. There is some good stuff in here, I just think you REALLY have to love the guy to want to read (or enjoy) the lot of it.
I would recommend this book only to die-hard Tom Robbins fans that are absolutely interested is a heap of stories that occur throughout his life. There isn’t much tying this all together, and reads rather like a disorganized, scattered, string of stories the drunk at the bar is relaying to make sure you know he is someone special. Don’t get me wrong, he is… it just gets a little tiring and I absolutely don’t care to hear one more Tommy Rotten story (SO many stories involving him with his childhood nickname, goofing off in school, wining a raffle out of sheer want and will, blah blah blah).
Robbins has been involved with a wide array of colorful characters, and tastes a bit of every walk of life. He included stories from growing up in the Depression, being involved with the beatniks, dropping acid before that became a scene; certainly he has had an interesting life. Some tales were memorable, funny, and/or charming: that time him and some buddies invented a cocktail mostly consisting of mayonnaise, the time he takes his first acid trip, the time Alan Ginsberg kissed him, the time he corrected gang members’ misspelling of their graffiti of their own name, etc.
I did love when he was talking about putting on some “happenings,” which essentially amount to performance art pieces. When one thinks of performance art, one may come to the conclusion that the folks putting on the piece take themselves too seriously. Well, Robbins doesn’t. And that makes those stories great. After a performer doesn’t show up, he has to improvise: lighting some money on fire, adding honey to the mixture, and eating it, all to the tune of some old fashioned Americana folk music. And the people love it. It’s controversial! It’s provocative! It’s hilarious… is what it is. He spins this tale, as he just wings all this shit. Never taking it or himself seriously, and the audience is never in on the joke.
Overall, Robbins is a great writer—descriptive writing, fierce wit—and I’d love to take a crack at another of his novels; though, this random collection of various events in his life just doesn’t compel me to devour the pages like I might with his fiction. I mentioned earlier how this reads like the drunk at the bar telling his life story, but I don’t think I’d be opposed to listening to that guy tell one or two of these tales over a beer or two. There is some good stuff in here, I just think you REALLY have to love the guy to want to read (or enjoy) the lot of it.