Sıska Bacaklar Tom Robbins'den okuduğum 3. kitap oldu. Ama biraz zorlandığımı, özellikle de ilk 80 sayfada neredeyse pes edeceğimi itiraf ediyorum.

Kitapta 2 farklı kahraman grubu var. Birinci grup insan kahramanlarımız, ikinci grup da hareket edebilen ve konuşabilen "nesne" kahramanlarımız.

İsrail askerleri ve Filistin halkı Kudüs'te her fırsatta birbirlerine saldırırken, Spike Cohen adında bir Yahudiyle, Ronald Abu Hadee adında bir Arab, New York'ta Birleşmiş Milletler binasının tam karşısına İ&İ adında bir restoran açarlar. Restoran New York politik hayatının ve Kudüs siyaset dünyasın ortasında rahatsız edici bir çıban başı gibidir.

Colanial Pines'da yetişen ve resim üzerine eğitim alan Ellen Cherry Charles kendi kasabasından demir ustası Boomer Patway'la evlenerek New York'a doğru dev bir hindi görünümünde olan arabasıyla yola çıkar. Ama New York'da işler pek de planlandığı gibi gitmez ve Ellen'in yolu garson olarak bu restorana düşer. Ellen'in amcası, kıyametin gelmesini fanatik bir şekilde isteyen Peder Buddy Winkler de tüm kıyamet planlarını toplayıp New York'a gelir. Kudüs'ün geçmişinden gelen, Kraliçe Izabel'e ait sedefli deniz helezonu ve mavi boyalı sopa ile Ellen'la Boomer'ın bir mağarada unuttukları mor kirli çorap teki, gümüş tatlı kaşığı ve bay/bayan konserve fasulye kutusu da (kitabın nesne kahramanları) bir yolunu bulup New York'a gelmeyi başarırlar.

Araya giren daha bir sürü karakterle Tom Robbins dinler üzerine, insanın dinle ilişkisi üzerine, inançlar üzerine, aşk üzerine, kıyamet üzerine, savaş üzerine, belki biraz barış üzerine, sanat üzerine, merkezinde bir şekilde hep Kudüs'ün yer aldığı acayip betimlemeler, uzun cümlelerle zaman zaman beynimi yakma noktasına getiren bir hikaye anlatıyor.

Sıska Bacaklar iyi ki okumuşum dediğim bir kitap olamadı maalesef. Rom Robbins'in ilk bu kitabını okusaydım kuvvetle muhtemel ondan başka kitap okumazdım. Sıska Bacakları "Yazarıyla konuşanlar" okuma klübünde sevgili Defne Suman'la konuşup sonra birlikte ikinci bir okuma yapacağız. Kim bilir belki kitapla ilgili önümde çok farklı ufuklar açılır ve düşüncelerim değişir. Durumda bir değişiklik olursa sizi haberdar ederim.

3.5/5
I enjoyed this book, and the story was quite satisfying. But Robbins hackneyed digressions and similes turned me off. I found my eyes glazing over the words or simply skipping paragraphs. I felt that Ellen was a clearly drawn character but the others like Boomer or Spike or even Buddy didn't quite seem as clear. Hopefully the next Robbins book I read will be more satisfying.

I'm annoyed it took me so long to finish this book, but if I didn't put it down I would never have gotten any work done! I was initially drawn to the book because I recently read Wilde's Salome; however I was wholly unprepared for the brilliance of Tom Robbins. The animation of inanimate objects isn't something I would typically enjoy, but Robbins allows you to not only completely suspend your disbelief but thoroughly enjoy watching a can of beans, a spoon, a dirty sock, a conch shell, a painted stick, as well as other items chat it up, go on a journey, comment on human being's daily lives. Though at first the connection between all the characters, animate and inanimate, is a bit confusing, he loops them all together with his amazing descriptions and astounding word play in order to present serious commentary on the way humanity functions. An excellent read I would certainly recommend to all.

Loved the book. The parts with the objects was kind of lost on me, but loved the density of all of the events and the portrayals of all of the characters.

Beyond offensive, great read though…poignant and funny as hell

This book is a delightfully messy, trippy, optimistic, big-hearted whirlwind. A hurricane that has ripped through the 1960s and '70s and '80s in America, picking up hillbillies and flower children and Arabs and Jews and artists and Biblical characters who serve as fodder for our fantasies. And don't forget a Can o' Beans, Dirty Sock, Spoon, Painted Stick and Conch Shell. The overused phrase of praise Tour de Force actually applies here. And then some.

This is my personal favorite Tom Robbins novel because of the elements of it that are about art. Robbins doesn't linger in anything overwhelmingly emotional, but there are a few moments that have grabbed onto my heart and will never let go. One character, Boomer Petway, doesn't think he's an artist when the story begins. He seems to be a rather matter-of-fact, not particularly bright chap, a welder who is defined by his hopeless love for the artist Ellen Cherry Charles. But when he sets his mind to making art in order to earn her respect, he makes something so unexpectedly cool and filled with so much soul that it knocked me off my seat. I won't spoil it here, so you can have the same experience. And when he talks about being an artist, it's such a unique and perfect perspective -- he just thinks about something he would like to see in the world that doesn't exist yet... and he makes it. Perfection.

There's also the performance artist Turn Around Norman. He comes out every day and stands on his street corner, very very slowly rotating. At any given moment, you can't see him moving. But if you watch long enough, he turns all the way around. Most people don't Get It, but it moves Ellen Cherry to tears. And Can o' Beans, Dirty Sock, Spoon, Painted Stick and Conch Shell think he's a genius because he's the only person they've ever met who moves as slowly as they do.

I will say this for people who are giving the first pages of the book a browse and finding it hard to decide whether they like it: Robbins starts off with a postmodern BANG that seems to be the product of quite a lot of peyote. I personally thought, "I might love this. But I can't quite give in and love it because it might be just a little too pretentious and only make sense to someone taking hallucinogens." But after throwing you into the deepest end of his weirdest and wildest writing pool, Robbins quickly pulls back and offers a much more traditionally accessibly narrative throughout most of the book. It's still incredibly imaginative and by no means common, but not every sentence seems to require a decoder. Which is probably for the best. But it also makes me love the trippy passages even more.

This is a smart book for smart people, with a surprising number of characters who are not concerned with being Smart People. It is about Love and Art without being sentimental or self-indulgent. It is far more about the journey than the destination, a road trip with the coolest friend you've ever had. The guy who keeps suggesting that you detour to see (dubious) attractions that you never would have chosen on your own, but that somehow add up to the best vacation you've ever taken. When that guy tells you, "Hop in," you take 5 minutes to grab your camera and some sunscreen, leave a note saying "Heading off with Tom. Who knows where! Will send postcards"

And then you hop the heck in.

''Με τα σφυριά των ψαλμών και τα καρφιά του δόγματος, σταυρώνουμε και ξανασταυρώνουμε, προσπαθώντας να καρφώσουμε στους στάσιμους βωμούς μας το αποδημητικό φως του κόσμου...''

Tom Robbins! Boy what do you say about a novel of his? “Skinny Legs and All” is my third Robbins read, and there will be more. This novel contains the unique figurative language use that is a Robbins staple, no one else writes similes that are as out there (and as apt) as this guy! The book also boasts some main characters that are inanimate objects, the biblical characters of Jezebel and Salome play significant roles, and the whole thing starts out inside a truck that has been made to look like a giant turkey. And it works.
Without getting into plot details, I will say that the fabled dance of the seven veils that Salome performed for her stepfather Herod serves as a major metaphor for the text. Robbins even goes so far as to divide the novel into seven parts, and ends each part with a minor discourse on some aspect of humanity that is “revealed” as a veil of Salome’s drops. It is a brilliant device, and really “Skinny Legs and All” is Robbins plea for humanity to embrace the beauty inherent in living and just leave it at that. All this other stuff we insist on just gets in the way.
There are many great moments in the text; as Robbins has a sharp mind, as well as a felicity for writing. Some examples include page 118 where he sums up what politics is in one sentence that encapsulates the whole shebang, page 394 where his description of the Super Bowl is sadly accurate and astounding in its truth, and a description of rap music that might not please rap fans, but to which I was nodding my head vigorously in agreement.
The last 20 pages or so are really the heart of the text, and they contain some heady philosophical thoughts. You will need to read this section a little slower and reread some parts to get the full impact, but it is worth it. The whole novel leads up to this point.
“Skinny Legs and All” was written in 1990, and today it is sadly as relevant as ever. With its focus on the absurdity of Middle East violence, and the peculiarities of culture that we insist on dying for Tom Robbins has written a novel that will be relevant for a long time to come.

I almost gave this book one star, but there were a few interesting parts and a few bizarre lines that made me laugh out loud, so it wasn't all bad. Tom Robbins must have been high on something stronger than life when he wrote this book because it was crazy. I skimmed through a lot of it because it was too inane to follow and kind of boring in parts. I did enjoy some parts involving the main character, Ellen Cherry, and her estranged husband, Boomer. Otherwise, the parts about Jerusalem and the animated can of beans, silver spoon and dirty sock did not hold my attention at all. I wouldn't bother reading this if I were you, unless you're an avid Tom Robbins fan. Apparently I don't appreciate his style.

A passage:

"You are an artist. You know that big picture at the museum midtown, that picture by that fellow Rousseau, it is called The Sleeping Gypsy?"

"Yeah. Sure. That's a very famous painting."

"It ought to be called The Sleeping Arab, that picture. An Arab lies in the desert, sleeping under the crazy-faced moon. A lion sniffs at the Arab, the Arab is unafraid..."

See the painting...


I find this to be one of Robbins' better works. By "better" here I mean "more mature" and "fully realized". Which is a bit ironic, I suppose in as much as this (along with Palahniuk's n  Diaryn) is in the upper-tier of my pantheon of books about artists struggling with their voice and their craft. (As Cory Doctorow would say succinctly: "Follow your weird.")

There is a lot to take away from this novel in terms of art and politics, in terms of brotherhood and forgiveness, in terms of inanimate objects on pilgrimages. You can skim through this one, sucking out just the gooey humorous center (pun-intended) and find little redeeming in it. But slow down a bit, dive a little deeper, and it's on the cusp of overwhelming.

But if you're not up for the challenge of its depth, you can still extract that hilarity without too much worry. Ease your conscience, I won't mind.

Trying to talk about Tom Robbins to someone who's never read him is nigh on imfuckingpossible. It's even more difficult if you're trying to convince someone who's already decided he/she DOESN'T LIKE him.

This is one of my favourite books ever, I've read it more times than I can count, and yet...

I still have a hard time explaining exactly WHY I want people to read this book.

I mean, I get it. Robbins is pretentious as fuck and his writing is what my husband refers to as masturbatory (yes, I read him sections of books I'm into and he usually makes faces at me, a sort of "really, you're reading this?!"). I've tried several times to get him to acknowledge my love of Tom Robbins, but he refuses.

If you can't understand why a book about a conch shell, a painted stick, a can of beans and a faded purple sock learning the secrets of life, the universe, and everything is brilliant...well, I just can't help you.

Religion is nothing but institutionalized mysticism. The catch is, mysticism does not lend itself to institutionalization. The moment we attempt to organize mysticism, we destroy its essence. Religion, then, is mysticism in which the mystical has been killed. Or, at least diminished.

Το ξεκίνησα διστακτικά, είναι γεγονός. Το ξεκίνησα μετά από πολλές και επίμονες προσπάθειες φίλης, ότι είναι εξαιρετικό και ενώ είχα ξενερώσει κάπως έχοντας διαβάσει τον Τρυποκαρυδο. Ο χρόνος όμως τελικά δεν πήγε χαμένος. Συγγραφή μετά από κατανάλωση ναρκωτικών; Ίσως, μπορεί βέβαια να ήταν κ αλκοόλ, who knows... Το αποτέλεσμα είναι βέβαια ότι έχουμε να κάνουμε με ένα εξαιρετικοτατο μυθιστόρημα που θα ήταν εκπληκτικό αν δεν με κουραζαν τόσο πολύ σε κάποια σημεία οι περιγραφές του Ρόμπινς. Must read κατα την ταπεινή μου γνώμη, ειδικά για το σημείο όπου με το χορό αρχίζουν ένα ένα να πέφτουν τα εφτά πεπλα