Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas

Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas

by Tom Robbins

Paperback(Reprint)

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780553377873
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 11/28/1995
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 400
Sales rank: 214,054
Product dimensions: 5.30(w) x 8.30(h) x 0.90(d)

About the Author

Tom Robbins has been called “a vital natural resource” by The Oregonian, “one of the wildest and most entertaining novelists in the world” by the Financial Times of London, and “the most dangerous writer in the world today” by Fernanda Pivano of Italy’s Corriere della Sera. A Southerner by birth, Robbins has lived in and around Seattle since 1962.

Hometown:

LaConner, Washington

Date of Birth:

July 22, 1936

Place of Birth:

Blowing Rock, North Carolina

Read an Excerpt

You kick off your shoes and flop onto the bed—landing, of course, among millions of mites. Had you any inkling that your bedding was alive with arthropodic crablets, chomping away on flakes of your dead skin, you would be so disgusted you would probably choose to lie on the floor. Yet every one of us, including the rich, the pious, and the royal of blood, sleeps each night in colonies of such mites. The ultimate witnesses, the most intimate voyeurs, these mites. What books they might author, what tales they could tell! Imagine the memoirs of a multitude of minuscule malcolm lowrys, expatriates in a martex mexico, soused on dandruff tequila, living and writing under the volcano of love. Jolted by mattress-quakes, buried by thigh-slides, swept away by flash floods of seminal lava, they cling to the linen with their petite pincers, recording with literary objectivity our orgasms, our fevers, our pillow talk, our dreams. Who knows more of our secrets? Who? Nightly, and often by day, they sail with us in the lunar barge, their flake steaks marinated in our tearwater, their breakfast boiled in our sweat, the winds of our farting at play in their hair. They are familiar with wife and mistress, husband and lover, hot-water bottle and fetish, favorite sitcom and favorite drug; have memorized confession, recrimination, prayer, delirium, and that sweet name we cry out in our sleep. Our babies are conceived—and born—in their midst; our parents—and someday we ourselves—die in what passes for their arms. Yes, all this but the mites do not betray us. If they gossip, it is only among themselves. Perhaps they see an order in our messy bed-lives—our tossings and turnings, moans and nightmares, snacks and snores and trading of partners—that we have not discovered yet. Perhaps they regard us as glorious, even; as agents of the raw miraculous, capable at any moment—not in spite of our folly but because of it—of a transcendence that exceeds transformance. As a rule, we do not sing in our beds. We have no need. The mites sing for us. Sing of us. They are our Greek chorus, our geek chorus, choirs of microscopic angels ever ready to dance on the head of a pin. Their appetites are ghoulish, their hunger divine. They are what they eat.


Excerpt from a bedmite tome:

Shortly before eleven on the night before Easter, our hostess, Gwendolyn Mati (fully clothed, unfortunately), lay herself down in our city to gather her wits, to collect her thoughts, to sort things out—things ranging from rectal cancer to sugary aromas, from missing friends to the possible demise of that powerful and enduring conviction that every generation of Americans could and would move beyond the social and economic station of its predecessor. However, being chaotic, overwhelmed, worried, frazzled, exhausted, severely disappointed yet strangely free, her various thoughts coagulated, her mind went to testpattern, and she slipped rather quickly into slumber. Within minutes, she commenced to dream. A voice spoke to her in her dream, spoke so loudly and distinctly (although it dragged its syllables contemptuously through its proboscis, in the manner of that bulbous old comedian on the late, late show) that we heard it above our traffic and crunching, as clearly as if it were there in the sheets. Startled, Ms. Mati reared up in bed. And in a low, wondering whisper, she repeated the statement we all had overheard.

"The Fool's journey ends on Sirius C."

What People are Saying About This

From the Publisher

"Tom Robbins continues to pour water on a dozing America...the author is one of the most inventive stylists writing today."— People

"One of the wildest and most entertaining novelists in the world."— Financial Times, London

"If (Jitterbug Perfume and Skinny Legs and All's) fuel-injected prose and far-out-in-left-field philosophy freaked you, then toddle back to Robert Fulghum, because Frog Pajamas is a scream in the same vein."—USA Today

"Rant on, Robbins; our carking, swinking, workaday world needs you."—Washington Post Book World

Customer Reviews

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Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas 4.1 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 38 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Over the holidays, I met a young man on the cusp of graduating from an Ivy Leauge University. He came on with the grease of a used car salesman, telling me that he had just gotten a job with one of those financial companies where people make thier first million within two years. The strange thing about him was that he was also a philosophy major with a wounderful backgroud and intersting ideas about the human soul... then he talked about money again. I sugested this book to him. It should be required reading for people in his life condition. A book about the soul of a philosoher/poet/artist existing within the brain of a financial genius... and a wanna be financial genius. A great book for anyone devoted to the wrong line of work. A great book for anyone with a soul. A great book for African frogs. A great book. Bon Voyage.
Mdshrk1 on LibraryThing 23 days ago
Having read "Another Roadside Attraction" years ago, I thought I'd give Robbins another try. Wish I would have spent the time reading something else.
lithicbee on LibraryThing 23 days ago
A bit of zaniness from Tom Robbins, Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas mixes up the stock market, tarot cards, a monkey who is born again but was formerly a jewel thief, frogs, aliens, enemas. In other words, the usual mix of interesting and out-there subjects. I found it interesting that this book was just as topical in 2010 as when it was originally published in 1994. The main character, a repressed Filipina, was not my favorite for most of the book, but I did like that to the end, even as she grows as a character, she remains an individual, there is no drastic change in the way she is based on the events in the book. In that, she was very believable, or as believable as anyone can be in a Robbins novel.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Smiles at michael and picks him up with no problem
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A rollercoaster that twists and turns you around. My first Robbins book. If you like your inspiration delivered with a heaping pile of unrealistic realism, you'll enjoy this book.
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This book hooked me on this Author. Excellent Read!
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