High on my pile to be read, this lovely novel, by one of my favourite authors.

The story about Amanda, John Paul Ziller, Plucky Purcell, Marx Marvellous and Mon Cul and of course, the Corpse, seemed to disintegrate as it went along and the wisdom Tom Robbins seeks to share with his readers, isn't new to me either. I could not agree more with him, by the way. Still, I love his prose, he is one of the finest writers I know. My friend Kelly told me yesterday that as a writer he agonizes over every oword in his books. Look at this:
"I don't imagine it storms much in this climate," he noted. "But do you admit there's truth in my observations?" The "but" that crouched like a strange sailor in the doorway of his second sentence did not in any way tie his first remark to his second one. It was a "but" more ornamental than conjunctional.