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A review by aneides
Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life by Tom Robbins
3.0
Tom Robbins is in is 80s (how the hell did that happen?) so I assume he has retired from novel-writing. (After the forgettable Villa Incognito, retirement might not have been such a bad decision.) I was glad, however, to see that he had assembled an autobiographical work because such an interesting writer has to have led a wildly interesting life.
Not really an autobiography, nor merely a bunch of anecdotes, Tibetan Peach Pie might be described as set of reminiscences (embellished, natch) organized in more or less chronological order. Rather than being composed in the standard sober, navel-gazing way of most autobiographies, the book is largely written in the familiar rollicking, over-the-top Robbinsian style. The language alone makes most of the stories worth the time, and it doesn't hurt that Robbins has some wild tales to tell.
I do have one complaint that may or may not be fair. I have read all of Robbins's novels (some of them many times) and I could probably quote long passages verbatim. I was disappointed to see many of the imaginative metaphors from his fiction interspersed throughout the book, e.g. describing the weather like the interior of a napalmed watermelon, feeling like a can of cheap dog food. It seemed like a lazy move, like he was plagiarizing himself. He (and his long-suffering editors, agent, transcriptionist, etc) couldn't have forgotten that he'd used *all* of those passages before.
Not really an autobiography, nor merely a bunch of anecdotes, Tibetan Peach Pie might be described as set of reminiscences (embellished, natch) organized in more or less chronological order. Rather than being composed in the standard sober, navel-gazing way of most autobiographies, the book is largely written in the familiar rollicking, over-the-top Robbinsian style. The language alone makes most of the stories worth the time, and it doesn't hurt that Robbins has some wild tales to tell.
I do have one complaint that may or may not be fair. I have read all of Robbins's novels (some of them many times) and I could probably quote long passages verbatim. I was disappointed to see many of the imaginative metaphors from his fiction interspersed throughout the book, e.g. describing the weather like the interior of a napalmed watermelon, feeling like a can of cheap dog food. It seemed like a lazy move, like he was plagiarizing himself. He (and his long-suffering editors, agent, transcriptionist, etc) couldn't have forgotten that he'd used *all* of those passages before.