Latest news with #JitterbugPerfume
Yahoo
12-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
America's most misunderstood region has lost its bard
The Pacific Northwest is the youngest child of America's geographic regions, perpetually overlooked and misunderstood. So it's perhaps fitting that obituaries for the novelist Tom Robbins have tended to portray him as a minor figure in the countercultural literary movement that began in the late 1960s. From the perspective of American literature, it's true that Robbins, who died Sunday at 92, is an adjunct to better-known figures such as Kurt Vonnegut or Robbins' friend and fellow Northwesterner Ken Kesey, though all three were in the rare subset of authors who wrote both cult classics and bestsellers. But if you lived in the Pacific Northwest in the latter half of the 20th century, you know that Robbins was, at his peak, the region's pre-eminent author in a way that mattered more than it might for another part of the country. We didn't just read Robbins, we needed him. In a comical scene straight from one of his books, a desperate fan once broke a window in a Seattle bookstore late at night to get one of his hardcover releases, leaving behind an apologetic note and a fistful of cash. Robbins wasn't just a novelist living in the Pacific Northwest, he was a novelist of the Pacific Northwest. In books such as "Jitterbug Perfume" and "Still Life with Woodpecker," he took major cultural influences of the area — Scandinavian stoicism, Asian philosophy and Coast Salish pragmatism — and blended them into irreverent, shaggy-dog novels full of poetic lyricism, pop-philosophy and goofy wordplay. He once said he didn't know the plot of his books before he started writing; you'd be forgiven if you weren't sure of them when you were done reading either. But then you'd come across a description of the Skagit Valley, where he made his home, and plot seemed secondary. "It is a landscape in a minor key," he writes in "Another Roadside Attraction." "A sketchy panorama where objects, both organic and inorganic, lack well-defined edges and tend to melt together in a silver-green blur. Great islands of craggy rock arch abruptly out of the flats, and at sunrise and moonrise, these outcroppings are frequently tangled in mist. Eagles nest on the island crowns and blue herons flap through the veils from slough to slough. It is a poetic setting, one which suggests inner meanings and invisible connections." It is a benediction to read words that reflect your life back to you. When your American history class centers on far-away Civil War battlefields, your American literature class discusses Melville and Twain and your favorite TV shows are set in the various boroughs of New York City, to read about where you live is inspiring. It helps you understand your place in the scheme of things. It inspires you to stand up for yourself, to tell a visitor, as my grandfather would, "That's not a river, that's a slough." Robbins' heyday came before Seattle hit it big. His peak output from the 1970s to the late 1980s was a time when the city still wondered if we'd ever have a local band as big as Heart, when people were excited that we were getting a Planet Hollywood, when you'd still get a cup of coffee from an espresso cart on a damp street corner. His last great novel, "Skinny Legs and All," came in 1990, just as that all changed. The rest of the country came to know the Northwest better in the decade after that, grunge music and riot grrrls, "Twin Peaks" and "Sleepless in Seattle," Starbucks and Amazon. The old, weird Northwest that Robbins represented, of utopian communes and wandering dreamers, is still there, but sanded down. In his later years, he occasionally placed ads in the local paper in La Conner, the onetime artist colony he made his home, to complain in his typically outlandish prose about the commercialization of the main street. But there were Microsoft bros in fleece vests who wanted a microbrew while visiting the tulip fields, so it was a losing fight. Still, some things don't change. The rain, for one. Robbins, who grew up in the South, often said that the Northwest's much-maligned climate was the reason he moved there. He loved the rain and wrote about it regularly, saying that the drizzly climate was "perfect for a writer," turning you inward as the raindrops beat out a cadence against the window. "Yes, I'm here for the weather," he wrote in 1994. "And when I'm lowered at last into a pit of marvelous mud, a pillow of fern and skunk cabbage beneath my skull, I want my epitaph to read, IT RAINED ON HIS PARADE. AND HE WAS GLAD!" Farewell, Tom Robbins. Wherever you are now, I hope it's raining. This article was originally published on
Yahoo
10-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Tom Robbins, Counterculture Scribe of ‘Even Cowgirls Get the Blues,' Dead at 92
Tom Robbins, the celebrated author whose novels included Skinny Legs and All, Jitterbug Perfume, and Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, died Sunday, Feb. 9, The New York Times reports. He was 92. Robbins died at his home in La Conner, Washington. His son Fleetwood confirmed the news but did not provide a cause of death. More from Rolling Stone Tony Roberts, Stage and Screen Actor Known for Woody Allen Films, Dead at 85 Mike Ratledge, Soft Machine Keyboardist and Co-Founder, Dead at 81 Irv Gotti, Music Producer and Murder Inc. Records Co-Founder, Dead at 54 At once an underground favorite and a best-seller, Robbins' comic novels — with their fantastical stories and far-out musings — were distinctly of the counterculture and soon became part of its fabric. He rarely plotted out his books, choosing instead to see where his imagination and characters led him. 'I've always wanted to lead a life of enchantment and writing is part of that,' Robbins told Rolling Stone in 1977. 'Magic is practical and pragmatic — it's making connections between objects, or events, in the most unusual ways. When you do that, the universe becomes a very exciting place. I'm a romantic, and I don't apologize for that. I think it's as valid a way of looking at life as any. And a hell of a lot more fun.' Robbins published his first novel, Another Roadside Attraction (the 'quintessential counterculture novel,' RS declared), in 1971. He would publish seven more, each arriving about four or five years after the last. His final novel, Villa Incognito, arrived in 2003, though he subsequently published a short story collection, Wild Ducks Flying Backwards, in 2005; a novella, B Is for Beer, in 2009; and a memoir (or 'un-memoir,' as he called it) Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life, in 2014. 'Heartbroken to hear about the passing of Tom Robbins,' actress Marisa Tomei wrote on Instagram. 'His books weren't just stories — they were wild, mind-expanding adventures that made you see the world differently. His words were playful, rebellious, and full of magic, reminding us to embrace the strange, chase beauty, and never take life too seriously.' Born July 22, 1932 in Blowing Rock, North Carolina, but raised largely outside Richmond, Virginia, Robbins showed a penchant for writing from a young age and expressed his desire to become a novelist as a teenager. His parents, however, pushed him more towards journalism, a career he pursued first in college and then picked up again after a stint in the Air Force. But two distinctly Sixties experiences re-routed Robbins back to his ultimate calling. An LSD trip in 1963 convinced him to quit his day job at a Seattle newspaper and start writing for underground publications. Then, in 1967, while reviewing an awe-inspiring Doors concert, Robbins said he 'finally found [his] voice' and set about writing his first novel a few weeks later. While Another Roadside Attraction failed to garner much attention when it was first published in hardback, the paperback edition steadily became a word-of-mouth hit, especially on college campuses. By the time his next novel, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, arrived in 1976, Robbins was a well-known quantity garnering both backlash and raves (including from the likes of Thomas Pynchon, who called Cowgirls 'a piece of working magic, warm, funny and sane'). Throughout the rest of his career, Robbins rarely deviated from his distinct style, retaining his devoted fans though sometimes exasperating critics. Despite their myriad out-there elements, his books were often optioned for films, but only one was ever made — Gus Van Sant's 1993 adaptation of Cowgirls, which was a critical and commercial flop. As a parting word in his 1977 Rolling Stone interview, Robbins succinctly captured his singular style and creative approach. 'You can tell people that my goal is to write novels that are like a basket of cherry tomatoes,' he said, 'when you bite into a paragraph, you don't know which way the juice is going to squirt.' Best of Rolling Stone Every Super Bowl Halftime Show, Ranked From Worst to Best The United States of Weed Gaming Levels Up
The Guardian
10-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
A life in quotes: Tom Robbins
Tom Robbins, the bestselling chronicler of the weird, whimsical and off-the-wall, has died at the age of 92, his family confirmed on Sunday. A prolific writer and editor, Robbins aligned with the hippie sensibilities of the 1960s, writing books under his guiding philosophy of 'serious playfulness' – outlandish characters, absurd metaphors and fantastical prose, like a hit of literary LSD. His novels, including Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Another Roadside Attraction and Still Life With Woodpecker, garnered a cult-following, even as they were dismissed by mainstream critics as overwrought. Here are some of his most memorable quotes: What I try to do, among other things, is to mix fantasy and spirituality, sexuality, humor and poetry in combinations that have never quite been seen before in literature. And I guess when a reader finishes one of my books … I would like for him or her to be in the state that they would be in after a Fellini film or a Grateful Dead concert. – to January Magazine, 2000 Minds were made for blowing. – Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas, 1994 Love easily confuses us because it is always in flux between illusion and substance, between memory and wish, between contentment and need. – Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, 1976 When we're incomplete, we're always searching for somebody to complete us. When, after a few years or a few months of a relationship, we find that we're still unfulfilled, we blame our partners and take up with somebody more promising. This can go on and on – series polygamy – until we admit that while a partner can add sweet dimensions to our lives, we, each of us, are responsible for our own fulfillment. Nobody else can provide it for us, and to believe otherwise is to delude ourselves dangerously and to program for eventual failure every relationship we enter. – Still Life with Woodpecker, 1980 The highest function of love is that it makes the loved one a unique and irreplaceable being. – Jitterbug Perfume, 1984 Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words 'make' and 'stay' become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free. – Still Life with Woodpecker Our lives are not as limited as we think they are; the world is a wonderfully weird place; consensual reality is significantly flawed; no institution can be trusted, but love does work; all things are possible; and we all could be happy and fulfilled if we only had the guts to be truly free and the wisdom to shrink our egos and quit taking ourselves so damn seriously. – to the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, 2007 We are our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves. – Still Life with Woodpecker A sense of humor … is superior to any religion so far devised. – Jitterbug Perfume Our individuality is all, all, that we have. There are those who barter it for security, those who repress it for what they believe is the betterment of the whole society, but blessed in the twinkle of the morning star is the one who nurtures it and rides it in, in grace and love and wit, from peculiar station to peculiar station along life's bittersweet route. – Jitterbug Perfume Establishment critics, to this day, write me off as a counter-culture writer, even though of my nine novels, the last six have had nothing to do with counter-culture things. And I wouldn't have missed the '60s for a billion dollars – but neither I nor my life's work can be defined by counter-culture sensibilities. – to NPR, 2014 So you think that you're a failure, do you? Well, you probably are. What's wrong with that? In the first place, if you've any sense at all you must have learned by now that we pay just as dearly for our triumphs as we do for our defeats. Go ahead and fail. But fail with wit, fail with grace, fail with style. A mediocre failure is as insufferable as a mediocre success. Embrace failure! Seek it out. Learn to love it. That may be the only way any of us will ever be free. – Even Cowgirls Get the Blues To say that you can't take life seriously and that life shouldn't be taken seriously is not to say that life is trivial or frivolous. Quite the contrary. There's nothing the least bit frivolous about the playful nature of the universe. Playfulness at a fully conscious level is extremely profound. In fact there is nothing more profound. Wit and playfulness are dreadfully serious transcendence of evil. – to January Magazine, 2000
CBC
10-02-2025
- Entertainment
- CBC
Literary prankster-philosopher Tom Robbins dead at 92
Social Sharing Tom Robbins, the novelist and prankster-philosopher who charmed and addled millions of readers with such screwball adventures as Even Cowgirls Get the Blues and Jitterbug Perfume, has died. He was 92. Robbins's death was confirmed by his friend, the publishing executive Craig Popelars, who said the author died Sunday morning. Pronouncing himself blessed with "crazy wisdom," Robbins published eight novels and the memoir Tibetan Peach Pie and looked fondly upon his world of deadpan absurdity, authorial commentary and zig-zag story lines. No one had a wilder imagination, whether giving us a wayward heroine with elongated thumbs in Cowgirls or landing the corpse of Jesus in a makeshift zoo in Another Roadside Attraction. And no one told odder jokes on himself: Robbins once described his light, scratchy drawl as sounding "as if it's been strained through Davy Crockett's underwear." He could fathom almost anything except growing up. People magazine would label Robbins "the perennial flower child and wild blooming Peter Pan of American letters," who "dips history's pigtails in weird ink and splatters his graffiti over the face of modern fiction." 'Most mischievous boy' A native of Blowing Rock, N.C., who moved to Virginia and was named "Most Mischievous Boy" by his high school, Robbins could match any narrative in his books with one about his life. There was the time he had to see a proctologist and showed up wearing a duck mask. (The doctor and Robbins became friends). He liked to recall the food server in Texas who unbuttoned her top and revealed a faded autograph, his autograph. Or that odd moment in the 1990s when the FBI sought clues to the Unabomber's identity by reading Robbins's novel Still Life with Woodpecker. Robbins would allege that two federal agents, both attractive women, were sent to interview him. "The FBI is not stupid!" he liked to say. "They knew my weakness!" Meet the Canada Reads 2025 contenders and the 5 books they will champion! 18 days ago Duration 0:19 He also managed to meet a few celebrities, thanks in part to the film adaptation of Even Cowgirls, which starred Uma Thurman and Keanu Reeves, and to appearances in such movies as Breakfast of Champions and Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle. He wrote of being Debra Winger's date to the 1991 Academy Awards ceremony and nearly killing himself at an Oscars after-party when — hoping to impress Al Pacino — he swallowed a glass of cologne. He had happier memories of checking into a hotel and being recognized by a young, pretty clerk, who raved about his work and ignored the man standing next to him, Neil Young. In Robbins's novels, the quest was all and he helped capture the wide open spirit of the 1960s in part because he knew the life so well. He dropped acid, hitchhiked coast to coast, travelled from Tanzania to the Himalayas and carried on with friends and strangers in ways he had no right to survive. He didn't rely on topical references to mark time, but on understanding the era from the inside. "Faulkner had his inbred Southern gothic freak show, Hemingway his European battlefields and cafés, Melville his New England with its tall ships," he wrote in his memoir, published in 2014. "I had, it finally dawned on me, a cultural phenomenon such as the world had not quite seen before, has not seen since; a psychic upheaval, a paradigm shift, a widespread if ultimately unsustainable egalitarian leap in consciousness. And it was all very up close and personal." His path to fiction writing had its own rambling, hallucinatory quality. He was a dropout from Washington and Lee University (Tom Wolfe was a classmate) who joined the Air Force because he didn't know what else to do. He moved to the Pacific Northwest in the early '60s and somehow was assigned to review an opera for the Seattle Times, becoming the first classical music critic to liken Rossini to Robert Mitchum. Robbins would soon find himself in a farcical meeting with conductor Milton Katims, making conversation by pretending he was working on his own libretto, The Gypsy of Issaquah, named for a Seattle suburb. "You must admit it had an operatic ring," Robbins insisted. 'Best practitioner of high foolishness' By the late 1960s, publishers were hearing about his antics and thought he might have a book in him. A Doubleday editor met with Robbins and agreed to pay $2,500 US for what became Another Roadside Attraction. Published in 1971, Robbins's debut novel sold little in hardcover despite praise from Graham Greene and Lawrence Ferlinghetti among others, but became a hit in paperback. Even Cowgirls Get the Blues came out in 1976 and eventually sold more than 1 million copies. "Read solemnly, with expectations of conventional coherence, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues will disappoint," Thomas LeClair wrote in the New York Times. "Entered like a garage sale, poked through and picked over, Cowgirls is entertaining and, like the rippled mirror over there by the lawn mower, often instructive. Tom Robbins is one of our best practitioners of high foolishness." Domestic stability was another prolonged adventure; one ex-girlfriend complained, "The trouble with you, Tom, is that you have too much fun." He was married and divorced twice, and had three children, before settling down with his third wife, Alexa d'Avalon, who appeared in the film version of Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. Robbins's other books included Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas, Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates and Villa Incognito. His honours included the Bumbershoot Golden Umbrella Award for Lifetime Achievement and being named by Writer's Digest as among the 100 best authors of the 20th century. But he cherished no praise more than a letter received from an unnamed woman.
Washington Post
10-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Washington Post
Tom Robbins, literary prankster-philosopher, dies at 92
NEW YORK — Tom Robbins, the novelist and prankster-philosopher who charmed and addled millions of readers with such screwball adventures as 'Even Cowgirls Get the Blues' and 'Jitterbug Perfume,' has died. He was 92. Robbins' death was confirmed by his friend, the publishing executive Craig Popelars, who said the author died Sunday morning. Pronouncing himself blessed with 'crazy wisdom,' Robbins published eight novels and the memoir 'Tibetan Peach Pie' and looked fondly upon his world of deadpan absurdity, authorial commentary and zig zag story lines. No one had a wilder imagination, whether giving us a wayward heroine with elongated thumbs in 'Cowgirls' or landing the corpse of Jesus in a makeshift zoo in 'Another Roadside Attraction.' And no one told odder jokes on himself: Robbins once described his light, scratchy drawl as sounding 'as if it's been strained through Davy Crockett's underwear.' He could fathom almost anything except growing up. People magazine would label Robbins 'the perennial flower child and wild blooming Peter Pan of American letters,' who 'dips history's pigtails in weird ink and splatters his graffiti over the face of modern fiction.' A native of Blowing Rock, North Carolina who moved to Virginia and was named 'Most Mischievous Boy' by his high school, Robbins could match any narrative in his books with one about his life. There was the time he had to see a proctologist and showed up wearing a duck mask. (The doctor and Robbins became friends). He liked to recall the food server in Texas who unbuttoned her top and revealed a faded autograph, his autograph. Or that odd moment in the 1990s when the FBI sought clues to the Unabomber's identity by reading Robbins' novel 'Still Life with Woodpecker.' Robbins would allege that two federal agents, both attractive women, were sent to interview him. 'The FBI is not stupid!' he liked to say. 'They knew my weakness!' He also managed to meet a few celebrities, thanks in part to the film adaptation of 'Even Cowgirls,' which starred Uma Thurman and Keanu Reeves, and to appearances in such movies as 'Breakfast of Champions' and 'Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle.' He wrote of being Debra Winger's date to the 1991 Academy Awards ceremony and nearly killing himself at an Oscars after-party when — hoping to impress Al Pacino — he swallowed a glass of cologne. He had happier memories of checking into a hotel and being recognized by a young, pretty clerk, who raved about his work and ignored the man standing next to him, Neil Young. In Robbins' novels, the quest was all and he helped capture the wide open spirit of the 1960s in part because he knew the life so well. He dropped acid, hitchhiked coast to coast, traveled from Tanzania to the Himalayas and carried on with friends and strangers in ways he had no right to survive. He didn't rely on topical references to mark time, but on understanding the era from the inside. 'Faulkner had his inbred Southern gothic freak show, Hemingway his European battlefields and cafes, Melville his New England with its tall ships,' he wrote in his memoir, published in 2014. 'I had, it finally dawned on me, a cultural phenomenon such as the world had not quite seen before, has not seen since; a psychic upheaval, a paradigm shift, a widespread if ultimately unsustainable egalitarian leap in consciousness. And it was all very up close and personal.' His path to fiction writing had its own rambling, hallucinatory quality. He was a dropout from Washington and Lee University (Tom Wolfe was a classmate) who joined the Air Force because he didn't know what else to do. He moved to the Pacific Northwest in the early '60s and somehow was assigned to review an opera for the Seattle Times, becoming the first classical music critic to liken Rossini to Robert Mitchum. Robbins would soon find himself in a farcical meeting with conductor Milton Katims, making conversation by pretending he was working on his own libretto, 'The Gypsy of Issaquah,' named for a Seattle suburb. 'You must admit it had an operatic ring,' Robbins insisted. By the late 1960s, publishers were hearing about his antics and thought he might have a book in him. A Doubleday editor met with Robbins and agreed to pay $2,500 for what became 'Another Roadside Attraction.' Published in 1971, Robbins' debut novel sold little in hardcover despite praise from Graham Greene and Lawrence Ferlinghetti among others, but became a hit in paperback. 'Even Cowgirls Get the Blues' came out in 1976 and eventually sold more than 1 million copies. 'Read solemnly, with expectations of conventional coherence, 'Even Cowgirls Get the Blues' will disappoint,' Thomas LeClair wrote in The New York Times. 'Entered like a garage sale, poked through and picked over, 'Cowgirls' is entertaining and, like the rippled mirror over there by the lawn mower, often instructive. Tom Robbins is one of our best practitioners of high foolishness.' Domestic stability was another prolonged adventure; one ex-girlfriend complained 'The trouble with you, Tom, is that you have too much fun.' He was married and divorced twice, and had three children, before settling down with his third wife, Alexa d'Avalon, who appeared in the film version of 'Even Cowgirls Get the Blues.' Robbins' other books included 'Half Asleep in Frogs Pajamas,' 'Fierce Invalids Home from Home Climates,' 'Villa Incognito.' His honors included the Bumbershoot Golden Umbrella Award for Lifetime Achievement and being named by Writer's Digest as among the 100 best authors of the 20th century. But he cherished no praise more than a letter received from an unnamed woman. 'Your books make me laugh, they make think, they make me horny,' his fan informed him, 'and they make me aware of all the wonder in the world.'
