Tom Robbins: the Kindle Singles Interview
In February, I had the pleasure of interviewing the legendary Tom Robbins in his La Conner home. He's extremely generous, genuine and gentlemanly. He even paid for our salmon burger lunch and insisted on walking to my side -- he said it was a practice started many moons ago in Europe so that men, instead of women, would be the ones splashed by the contents of chamber pots when dumped out of windows. Sure, I'll take it!
I believe the world would be a better place if more people read Robbins' books. That being said, it was wonderful to meet the mind behind the stories. Here is my intro to our epic discussion, which touched on everything from his writing process to the importance of the vulva:
Tom Robbins said I’d know his house when I
saw it. Indeed I did. Villa de Jungle Girl, the name he coined for his La
Conner, Washington, home, stands out among its subtler neighbors in the sleepy fishing-cum-tourist
town. The façade’s five different colors range from middle-of-a-deep-pond blue
to creamy-matcha green, while a palm tree made of steel sprouts from his front
yard. The Beatles song “Hey Jude” was cranked up so loud that it
took five sets of knocks before the 81-year-old novelist — famed for such
irreverent and original works as Still Life with
Woodpecker, Jitterbug Perfume, and Even Cowgirls Get
the Blues
— finally opened the door. He wore his signature sunglasses along with
light-wash denim jeans, a maroon pullover with brown suede elbow patches, and
kelly green sneakers with socks so bright that planets may have been orbiting
them. His dog, Blini Tomato Titanium, who is no bigger than the collective mass
of three baked potatoes, was tucked under his arm. His wife of 27 years, Alexa,
a part-time tarot reader, was away that afternoon at a training session to
become a Pilates instructor.
Robbins showed me around with the focus and
generosity of a docent at the Met. Everyday objects such as flyers function as
art as much as pieces from celebrated artists like Man Ray. A painting of a
winged human on mesh was lit by a pink fluorescent bulb, a work he calls the
Pepto-Bismol Angel. Three original Warhol Campbell’s Soup Can images hung on the wall
near the kitchen, reminiscent of a ’50s soda shop with its red-and-white
checkered tile. One room is completely dedicated to peach cans — “I have the
largest peach can collection in the world” — and images of babies riding koi
fish, including a neon-sign version he commissioned.
Robbins is known for creating
larger-than-life characters but has a chill vibe — amiable, low-key, and
humble. Yet he gave glimmers of a deep-down wild side, like when I asked to see
his tattoo. He happily stood up, lifted his shirt above his head, and revealed
a palm tree etched onto the left side of his chest with the phrase “Where’s the
tree?” inscribed below. (“It’s a metaphysical question,” he told me.) Later, we
would walk by a gift shop filled with corny knickknacks and he would
nonchalantly say, “I want to napalm that place.”
We met on a Sunday in mid-February, the day
before he turned in his final edits for Tibetan Peach Pie — his first full-length book in a decade and the first attempt at
chronicling his own life on paper. Although he hasn’t lived in the South for
more than 40 years, Robbins still has a sliver of his Southern drawl, speaking
in a voice that he identifies as having “been strained through Davy Crockett’s
underwear.” I captured him during a pensive moment, both concerned and excited
to reveal his personal history to the world.
Over the course of our seven-hour interview,
we would hang out in his writing room, retreat to La Conner Pub & Eatery
for salmon burgers (extra tartar sauce) and Rainier beers, and finally end up
in his den, where two canvas circus banners hang — they’re so large they
practically wallpaper the room — Tibetan rugs grace the floor, and furniture
from New Guinea bumps up against a jungle-inspired-print couch. Among other
things, we would talk about his psychedelic journeys, his hatred of
creative-writing programs, and why he refuses to call his new book a memoir. We
also talked a fair amount about mayonnaise.
This is a picture of Robbins in his writing room with his dog Blini Tomato Titanium and the proof pages of his new book, Tibetan Peach Pie.
If you're interested in learning about the contents of a one-of-a-kind mind, check out the interview: Tom Robbins: the Kindle Singles Interview.