Even Cowgirls Get the Blues: A Novel
A classic tale of eccentric adventure from the New York Times bestselling author of Still Life with Woodpecker
“This is one of those special novels—a piece of working magic, warm, funny, and sane.”—Thomas Pynchon
“Even Cowgirls Get the Blues comes as a magical gift, a brilliant affirmation of private visions and private wishes and their power to transform life and death.”—The Nation
The whooping crane rustlers are girls. Young girls. Cowgirls, as a matter of fact, all “bursting with dimples and hormones”—and the FBI has never seen anything quite like them. Yet their rebellion at the Rubber Rose Ranch is almost overshadowed by the arrival of the legendary Sissy Hankshaw, a white-trash goddess literally born to hitchhike, and the freest female of them all.
Freedom, its prizes and its prices, is a major theme of Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. As Tom Robbins’s robust characters attempt to turn the tables on fate, the reader is drawn along on a tragicomic joyride across the badlands of sexuality, wild rivers of language, and the frontiers of the mind.
“This is one of those special novels—a piece of working magic, warm, funny, and sane.”—Thomas Pynchon
“Even Cowgirls Get the Blues comes as a magical gift, a brilliant affirmation of private visions and private wishes and their power to transform life and death.”—The Nation
The whooping crane rustlers are girls. Young girls. Cowgirls, as a matter of fact, all “bursting with dimples and hormones”—and the FBI has never seen anything quite like them. Yet their rebellion at the Rubber Rose Ranch is almost overshadowed by the arrival of the legendary Sissy Hankshaw, a white-trash goddess literally born to hitchhike, and the freest female of them all.
Freedom, its prizes and its prices, is a major theme of Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. As Tom Robbins’s robust characters attempt to turn the tables on fate, the reader is drawn along on a tragicomic joyride across the badlands of sexuality, wild rivers of language, and the frontiers of the mind.
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Community Reviews
Whenever I need a bit of strange trippy disorienting magic, I read Tom Robbins. That feeling has hit me twice in the past decade in fact, and would never read him until that mood arrives (hint to all you tortured put upon readers out there). Somehow I meandered my way to him this time through Douglas Adams, Moore, Saunders and Pynchon... whose review of this book I'll defer to.
I did not like this book. Forget liking the characters, I didn’t even believe the characters. It’s silly without being funny. It’s sexual without being sexy. It meandered in a way that made me feel the minutes of my life ebbing away. As a bonus, it’s layer upon layer of problematic.
I’m confused about the positive reviews because it feels like I read a completely different book than the one they are referencing.
I’m confused about the positive reviews because it feels like I read a completely different book than the one they are referencing.
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