Jamie Whittle's Blog
Beetroot and tanukis
It’s the biggest treat to come across a book whose pages you literally savour one after the other. A delicious, fulfilling experience. For me, it’s the tales of Tom Robbins which hit the spot every time. I find myself torn between the urge to race through his books out of sheer delight, with a desire to hover in the page like a bee gathering sweet nectar.
When a new book is released, it’s the Christmas sensation all over. Joy and yeehaw. A healthy immersion into a world of the craziest characters and wackiest wisdom.
I’ve just finished reading his latest novel, “B Is For Beer”, which I enjoyed immensely. The subtitle for the book is “A Children’s Book for Grown-Ups. A Grown Up Book for Children”. It’s a clever, creative work which despite a lot of negative criticism pushes the boundaries. Although I don’t drink alcohol myself these days, I learned more about beer through the story than I did in all my time at university! He has the metre of a master, a lucid plot line, and his exposition of the Fifth Element (you need to read it to find out) is inspired.
Times spent reading Robbins’ books are invariably rich. I remember waiting for a train at Glasgow Central some years ago, the platform filled with hundreds of cowboys travelling to the SECC for a Willie Nelson concert. The perfect backdrop in which to read “Skinny Legs And All”. It just made sense. As I’ll never forget being stormbound in a tent in Patagonia for at least two days, snuggled down in my down sleeping bag, mind wide open to the hitch hiking adventures of Sissy Hankshaw in “Even Cowgirls Get The Blues”.
I’ll nail my colours to the mast and declare that Tom Robbins is the greatest writer that ever lived. Bold, foolish, it doesn’t matter. What about Hemingway, D.H. Lawrence, Melville, Homer? I’ve just never come across anyone who touches his sublime skills with the story.
To summarise the ingredients of the tales: take a line up of eccentric characters, a spread of disparate locations, some philosophy to fuel the direction, some love and magic, and the outcome is as unpredictable as tea leaves. Like entering a matrix, you come to see the connection of beetroot and an Argentinian dance craze, the moon and outlaws, the circus and tanukis (Japanese raccoon dogs).
My favourite tale of all remains “Jitterbug Perfume”. Give it about 80 pages, and then fasten your seat-belt for a roller-coaster ride that won’t disappoint. If you enjoy it, then there’s plenty more, although I’m always surprised at how sparsely stocked his books are in Scotland. This blog page isn’t meant to sound like a book club recommendation, but I’m just passing it on as I would to fellow travellers in a mountain hut. Dive in and have fun.