“[A] wild comic rip through eternity and beyond.”—The Detroit News
A genre-blending romp of a novel that “celebrates the joy of individual expression and self-reliance” (Saturday Review), from the New York Times bestselling author of Still Life with Woodpecker
Jitterbug Perfume is an epic. Which is to say, it begins in the forests of ancient Bohemia and doesn’t conclude until nine o’clock tonight (Paris time). It is a saga, as well. A saga must have a hero, and the hero of this one is a janitor with a missing bottle. The bottle is blue, very, very old, and embossed with the image of a goat-horned god. If the liquid in the bottle actually is the secret essence of the universe, as some folks seem to think, it had better be discovered soon because it is leaking and there is only a drop or two left.
Immortality, and beets
"Tom Robbins's writing is like a magic eye image. You know the ones that look like a repeating pattern of colours until you unfocused your eyes and then the 3D image pops out? It's like that, but in writing. Absurd, delightful, intricate. Complex, but not complicated"
