By Tom Robbins
What if the second one Coming didn’t really come off as marketed? What if “the Corpse” on reveal in that funky roadside zoo is actually who they are saying it is—what does that portend for the longer term f western civilization? And what if a tender clairvoyant named Amanda reestablishes the flea circus as well known leisure and fertility worship because the central non secular kind of our high-tech age? Another Roadside Attraction solutions these questions and much more. It let us know, for instance, what the sixties have been actually all approximately, no longer by way of reporting at the psychedelic decade yet via recreating it, from the interior out. within the technique, this stunningly unique seriocomic mystery is absolutely able to concurrently consuming a literary sizzling puppy and eroding the borders of the brain.
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Extra info for Another Roadside Attraction
The bus was stalled in traffic lights at Westmoreland Street, every window was misted with breath or condensation and the upper floor obscured by cigarette smoke. There was a figure at the top that I recognized—something about the way he sat, the way his upturned collar made his hair stick out at the nape of his neck like a hedgehog. I stopped, waiting for the bus to pass, then realized that I was recognizing, in some obscure manner, myself, me, Kevin—those glimpses you only get from face-to-face mirrors, that angle of the back of your head that everyone sees but you.
Maybe Tommy the Clock’s random timepieces were all set to some mysterious hour, when all of the bells and gongs would ring and we would be magically released. Maybe among her bundle of keys was one she had never noticed, that would open the basement door I could never find and allow us back to . . where, I often wondered? I could imagine the thrill of discovery, the thrill of escape, but any thought or hope of arrival to anywhere else left a blank. She would take me swimming with her until it became embarrassing.
I gathered later, from his accent, that he must have been Scottish, but I didn’t turn round, I let myself be frog-marched to the glass doors and thrust into the chaos of shoppers on the street. I stood there, staring at the jewellers opposite. Had he read my thoughts, I wondered, had he a window to the future, had he known what I was about to do before I even did it? ’ He had met me before, somehow; he wasn’t a soothsayer or a mind reader, he had met me before, told me never to come back there.
Another Roadside Attraction by Tom Robbins