I thought I had read everything written by novelist Tom Robbins – of Even Cowgirls Get the Blues fame – years ago. Then, one day, recently, I picked up Half Asleep in Frog Pyjamas from a library sale table. For a buck, I thought, if I’ve read it already, I’ll enjoy his poetic prose again. And, with any luck, my pathetic memory should allow me to be surprised again at the plot twists.
The real surprise was that I had not read this one! Published in 1994, I had missed it entirely.
I have been rapturously enjoying it of late. It is full of improbable characters, plotlines and paragraphs like this:
”There are landscapes in which we feel above us not sky but space. Something larger, deeper than sky is sensed, is seen, although in such settings the sky is invariably immense. There is a place between the cerebrum and the stars where sky stops and space commences, and should we find ourselves on a particular prairie or mountaintop at a particular hour [...] our relationship with sky thins and loosens while our connection with space becomes as solid as bone.”
I have been transfixed by the giddy delight of knowing I have found something that not only is great fun to read, but provides a chance to renew my acquaintance with a favourite author and his luscious descriptions of Seattle weather- yes, I actually miss the rain on the Westcoast