In the very cool presence of Tom Robbins

Tom Robbins worked on the copy desk at the Seattle Post-Intelligencer when I talked my way into writing for the paper, at the age of 17. It amazes me now that one of my favorite authors actually edited my sorry copy when I was a rank amateur. Actually, I was glad it was him because he appreciated what I was writing about — rock 'n' roll — and could catch my mistakes. Plus he added great headlines.

I didn't know at the time that he was a novelist — I was soon to find out — but Robbins' talents intimidated me nonetheless because he was a prime figure in the local counterculture. At the 1967 Trips Festival at Eagles Auditorium, he presented "Family Entertainment," a play with four characters repeating "mommy," "daddy," "bowwow" and "I love you." He curated exhibits at the city's hippest art galleries; reviewed art for the P-I; and wrote for The Helix, the underground paper. He wore the coolest clothes to the office — shirts with brightly colored floral patterns, vinyl ties (regular, bow and bolo), cowboy boots, a Panama hat — and he spoke in a cool, slow, Southern drawl.

Comparing his Helix story about Jimi Hendrix's first show here in 1968 to mine in the P-I, I realized how much more talented, intelligent and perceptive he was. So I was honored when I actually got to join him on the roof of the P-I once to sip tea made from marijuana shake (leaves, stems and seeds) and smoke prime Moroccan hashish.

Actually, it was a copy boy named Jeff who brought the tea and invited me to the roof, but it was the first time I got to actually chat with Robbins. He was quiet and shy, so when he said something, it was special. I hung on his every word. And I remember laughing a lot.

Dropping in on a novelist

Jeff and another guy who worked on the copy desk, George, took me along when they visited Robbins at his storefront home on (if I remember correctly) Front Street in La Conner. I think Robbins was none-too-happy about us dropping in because he had a guest, a La Conner local, who looked askance at us three disheveled hippies (we'd been hunting mushrooms in the Skagit Valley woods). So the visit was brief.

On Robbins' roll-top desk was a stack of handwritten notes on yellow paper, which he had apparently been typing up on an old manual typewriter. To the left of the typewriter was a neat stack of typed pages.

"What's this?" I asked, reading the half-typed page that was still in the typewriter.

"A novel I'm working on," Robbins said. The large Mickey Mouse figure on top of the desk was his muse, he explained.

I didn't realize I was reading "Another Roadside Attraction" until it was published in 1971. I bought and read it in hardback because I knew him. I didn't expect to be blown away, but I was.

Fast-forward to two summers ago when, while moving old boxes of stuff, out fell a paperback copy of "Roadside," with my Zig Zag rolling-paper bookmark still intact. I sat down and started reading it.

I was amazed at how much better it was now than then, because I understood it so much better. It stood up spectacularly, hilariously well, and captured an era perfectly.

Common themes, uncommon wit

Since then, I have read or reread all eight of Robbins' novels. (Actually, I have 46 pages left to go of "Villa Incognito," which I'll savor, because I don't want it to end.)

Some think "Even Cowgirls Get the Blues," his second novel, is his best, and I wouldn't argue. But it's hard to top "Roadside," which has as a principal figure the resurrected Jesus, who looks and talks so much like a hippie he fits right in during the '60s — so much so that hardly anybody notices him.

Religion, or rather spirituality, figures in all of his novels, in the form of gods, animism, belief systems, divine figures. Robbins loves the ladies, and all his books have willing, nubile female characters (Sissy Hankshaw of "Cowgirls" is probably the most delicious). Factoids, little bits of knowledge one garners from reading newspapers and periodicals mostly, pepper his plots. Sometimes his plots turn on such fascinating facts — the Asian circus traditions in "Incognito," for instance.

In addition to "Roadside" and "Cowgirls," my favorites have turned out to be "Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates," because of the witty protagonist Switters, whose feet cannot touch the ground under pain of death; "Skinny Legs and All," which tweaks the Arab-Israeli conflict while invoking the dancing women of the Bible, and has anthropomorphic characters, including a spoon, an empty can of beans and St. Patrick's Cathedral; and "Jitterbug Perfume," through which I learned a great deal about beets, the perfume industry and the god Pan (who also appears in "Roadside").

A writer with wisdom

It's fun to read Robbins' books because Seattle and the Northwest figure in them, and I recognize many of the places. And he loves language and word play.

But what I ultimately take away from Robbins is wisdom. He imparts wisdom by way of his characters, his plots, his humor and the real historic figures he evokes.

In "Still Life With Woodpecker," Robbins uses a quote that I share with friends, and reread when I need inspiration. For me, it also sums up what Robbins is all about:

You don't need to leave your room.

Remain sitting at your table and listen.

Don't even listen, simply wait.

Don't even wait.

Be quite still and solitary.

The world will freely offer itself to you.

To be unmasked, it has no choice.

It will roll in ecstasy at your feet.

— Franz Kafka

Robbins makes the world a wonderful place to be. He makes it roll in ecstasy at your feet, like a pet dog. He makes you appreciate the good in life.

He makes me laugh, and he makes me think. That's what I love about Tom Robbins.

Patrick MacDonald: 206-464-2312 or pmacdonald@seattletimes.com