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Quote by Tom Robbins

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Another Roadside Attraction

This book delves into the lives of a diverse cast of characters who are drawn to an enigmatic roadside attraction. As they explore the site and its surrounding area, they encounter strange phenomena and uncover hidden truths about themselves and the world around them. The narrative weaves together elements of mystery, fantasy, and personal growth, offering readers a thought-provoking and engaging read. more

Author

Tom Robbins
Tom Robbins

Tom Robbins (born July 22, 1936) is an acclaimed American novelist known for his whimsical, philosophical, and often surreal storytelling. His works blend pop culture, Eastern spirituality, and countercultural themes, with notable titles including 'Another Roadside Attraction' and 'Even Cowgirls Get the Blues'. Born in North Carolina, Robbins worked as a journalist and art critic before turning to fiction. His novels are celebrated for their linguistic playfulness, eccentric characters, and profound meditations on love, freedom, and the human condition. Though not a recipient of major literary prizes, he has cultivated a devoted global readership and influenced generations of writers. He remains a distinctive voice in contemporary American literature. more

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“I opened the fridge but there was nothing in it; apart from the stubby end of a black pudding sausage wrapped in cling film, which had been in there for god knows how long, as an emergency stash for when we ran out of blood or the butcher's was closed. I chopped it up into little pieces and carried them in the palm of my hand, like I was offering bread crumbs to the birds, while I went around the house one last time. I took little pieces one by one and popped them in my mouth. The black pudding tasted bad, especially so cold from the fridge. And my body couldn't take much of the egg and oats and pepper that were mixed with the blood to make the sausage; I had to spit most of it out. But it was sustenance, enough to tide me over.”

“Thursday night is pasta night," I say. "I left you guys a lasagna Bolognese, garlic knots, and roasted broccolini. Ian is going to make the Caesar salad table side." Thursday is the day I come in only to train Ian, so on Wednesdays I always leave something for an easy pasta night. Either a baked dish, or a sauce and parboiled pasta for easy finishing, some prepped salad stuff, and a simple dessert. "Awesome. Does the lasagna have the chunks of sausage in it?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Robert Adam Farber, would I leave you a lasagna without chunks of sausage in it?" I say with fake insult in my voice. "No, El, you totally have my back on all things meat. What's for dessert?" "Lemon olive oil cake with homemade vanilla bean gelato.”

“This does not escape my notice, it is a context. I resent the fact of a context; my social status has shifted and no one is going to acknowldege it, that´s certain. I´m expected to be Brave and Rise Above. I dress for the role; I must look far better now that I did when I was married. I must look pulled together into a nice tight Hermès knot of self-containment. I don´t make the rules; I just do my best to follow them.”

“Галицька «виборча ковбаса» (Wahlwurst), якою чиновники та поміщики підкуповували селян, навіть увійшла до загальноімперського політичного жаргону. У суспільному житті галицьких українців у цей час з’являється новий персонаж — хрунь. Так називали тих русинів, які свідомо чи легковажно голосували не за власних кандидатів, а за польських, куплялися за «горілку й ковбасу» чи на обіцянки грошової винагороди.”

“I have a feeling he’s aware of everything going on around him and that he’ll jump to his feet at the slightest provocation and kill whoever bothered him with that damn sausage. I wonder what my obituary would say in that scenario? Here lies Nicholette Bettencourt, who died from being whipped to death by sausage. Rest in peace. Then again, do the criminals here get obituaries?”

“The scariest thing is that nobody seems to be considering the impact on those wild fish of fish farming on the scale that is now being proposed on the coast of Norway or in the open ocean off the United States. Fish farming, even with conventional techniques, changes fish within a few generations from an animal like a wild buffalo or a wildebeest to the equivalent of a domestic cow. Domesticated salmon, after several generations, are fat, listless things that are good at putting on weight, not swimming up fast-moving rivers. When they get into a river and breed with wild fish, they can damage the wild fish's prospects of surviving to reproduce. When domesticated fish breed with wild fish, studies indicate the breeding success initially goes up, then slumps as the genetically different offspring are far less successful at returning to the river. Many of the salmon in Norwegian rivers, which used to have fine runs of unusually large fish, are now of farmed origin. Domesticated salmon are also prone to potentially lethal diseases, such as infectious salmon anemia, which has meant many thousands have had to be quarantined or killed. They are also prone to the parasite Gyrodactylus salaris, which has meant that whole river systems in Norway have had to be poisoned with the insecticide rotenone and restocked.”

“I am becoming an old man and can no longer go forth to battle. You must take my place and found new cities in the wilderness, for the kingdom of Wisdom must grow.' "And so they did. One went south to the Foothills of Confusion and built Dictionopolis, the city of words, and one went north to the Mountains of Ignorance and built Digitopolis, the city of numbers. Both cities flourished mightily and the demons were driven back still further. Soon other cities and towns were founded in the new lands, and at last only the farthest reaches of the wilderness remained to these terrible creatures and there they waited, ready to strike down all who ventured near or relaxed their guard.”

“Bibingka had a soft and spongy texture, like a chiffon cake, but with a flavor all its own. Modern bibingka was simply baked in an oven, but it's traditionally grilled using charcoal. Lola Flor had a grill behind the restaurant that she used for occasions like this, and her bibingka was miles ahead of any other version I'd tried. My sweet tooth preferred the simplicity of the sugar-topped ones, but the complexity of the salted duck eggs against the other ingredients made me keep reaching for another piece.”