A creative, quirky life - Tibetan Peach Pie by Tom Robbins

Cover of Tibetan Peach Pie by Tom Robbins. Book review by Markus McDowell.

Tom Robbins’ bio on Wikipedia is a good description of him:

Thomas Eugene “Tom” Robbins (born July 22, 1932) is an American author. His best-selling novels are “seriocomedies” (also known as “comedy-drama”), often wildly poetic stories with a strong social and philosophical undercurrent, an irreverent bent, and scenes extrapolated from carefully researched bizarre facts. His novel Even Cowgirls Get the Blues was made into a movie in 1993 by Gus Van Sant and stars Uma Thurman, Lorraine Bracco, and Keanu Reeves. (Bio from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.)
Bio from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Many of his fans have been looking forward to this book about his life. It is certainly an interesting life, and how he moved around from various careers and experiences mirrors mine, and I felt an affinity.

As he writes in the beginning, this is not an autobiography in the normal sense. Robbins seems curious about why he is a creative person, so it’s as if he’s exploring his entire life to figure out why.

Like a biography, it is generally in chronological order, from his earliest memories as a child to the present. However, he does jump back to the past or forward to his future when an anecdote would enlighten the reader about the current story. Most of it is told as a series of anecdotes, with his own comments and analysis about himself and others interspersed throughout.

It becomes pretty apparent early on that he was certainly a child of the 60s, but of the group that were bohemian, intelligent, fascinated by literature, art, and music. He was a music and art critic before he began writing novels.

One of the more endearing things about the novel is that he does not whitewash anything. He is open about where he thinks his talents lie, where luck played a huge role, and his flaws and mistakes throughout life. I believe it is his genuineness and honesty, along with his quirky experiences and outlook, that make this such a compelling read.

That reason, rather than writing a normal review as I do, here are some interesting parts that stood out to me, which will give you a flavor of the book.

There are a number of wonderful tidbits. For instance, in describing one of several relationships, he writes:

I finally found a small but charming house I could rent in LaConner, and Terry and I moved into it on April 1, 1970. (I recommend that you make all of your major moves on 1 April. Just in case.)

Another insight struck home with me because I have often felt the same.

[I] have been known to criticize profanity as representing a limited vocabulary and a destitution of wit.

I hardly swore at all most of my adult life, for this very reason. If you use swear words all the time, then what will you use when you really want to drive a point home or shock your audience? (I finally gave up a few years ago when I realized I wasn’t making a difference, and no one cared about my word choice philosophy.)

When he began writing his second novel, he decided to go to Japan for an extended period. Purportedly, he went to do research, but it was not really necessary, and it seems more likely that he just wanted to spend a lot of time in Japan, a culture he knew nothing about. He had noticed that the Japanese were quite closed and reserved on trains, rarely interacting. He decided to do something about it and began getting them to sing together, resulting in a humorous scene but also a life lesson at the end of the anecdote.

On trains, encouraged by quantities of beer, we were as unrestrained in our deportment… as the Japanese passengers were closed and reserved, believing all the while, as we sang Hank Williams tunes, drummed on Asahi cans with chopsticks, and occasionally exercised in the aisles, that we were setting an example of how less tiresome life can be when people relax their grip on their egos and indulge in the innate human capacity for playfulness…”

Robbins could be a bit crazy and off-the-cuff at times. He never really discusses why he thinks he was this way, just points out that he thinks he was not normal. For example, one of my favorite stories is when he was waiting in an examination room for a proctologist. He donned a duck mask, looking like “Donald Duck’s gangster cousin.” When the doctor entered the room, he just stood there looking at him until Robbins finally said, “Well, aren’t you at least going to refer me to a veterinarian?”

But perhaps the craziest antic was when he was invited to an Academy Awards dinner, where they had placed bags with perfume and cologne bottles. Robbins was seated near Al Pacino. At one point, Pacino stood up, took his jacket off, and patted some cologne on his armpits. Everyone laughed, so Robbins took his little bottle, poured it into a glass, and took a drink. He doesn’t know what compelled him to do so, but he sat for about 15 seconds, with tears streaming down his face, sure he was going to pass out.

He is certainly a fascinating character, and whether you are a reader, a creative, or not even close to any of those things, his is a fascinating and insightful life. Not only is it entertaining, but some of his observations about relationships, art, culture, and history are worth considering.