Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates
Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates
Tom Robbins
Ev Williams
On the "books read" section of Ev Williams' GoodReads profile.
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Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates

Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates

Tom Robbins
By
Tom Robbins
4.0
28606
ratings on Goodreads

Dive into the whirlwind life of Switters, an enigmatic agent whose existence defies every norm and expectation. In "Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates," Tom Robbins crafts a masterful tale that weaves together the paradoxical threads of an anarchist in government shoes, a pacifist with a gun, and a cyber whiz who detests the digital. Switters's journey is anything but ordinary, leading readers from the sultry jungles of South America to the sacred streets of the Vatican, challenging our perceptions of morality, spirituality, and the chaos that underpins our world. Robbins delivers a narrative that is at once a high-octane adventure and a profound exploration of the human spirit, marked by his signature wit and unparalleled storytelling prowess. At the heart of this novel lies a passionate celebration of life's contradictions and complexities. Switters, compelling and irreverent, embarks on a quest that is as much about external discovery as it is about internal exploration. "Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates" is a testament to Robbins' ability to blend humor with philosophical insight, creating a story that is as thought-provoking as it is entertaining. Through the eyes of a most unconventional protagonist, Robbins invites readers on an unforgettable journey that is wild, witty, and utterly irresistible. This book is not just a narrative—it's an experience, a sexy, cerebral romp through a world that reflects our own in its capacity for both absurdity and profundity.

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Released
2000
5 Sep
Length
445
Pages

1

recommendations

recommendation

On the "books read" section of Ev Williams' GoodReads profile.
All depression has its roots in self-pity, and all self-pity is rooted in people taking themselves too seriously.”At the time Switters had disputed her assertion. Even at seventeen, he was aware that depression could have chemical causes.“The key word here is roots,” Maestra had countered. “The roots of depression. For most people, self-awareness and self-pity blossom simultaneously in early adolescence. It's about that time that we start viewing the world as something other than a whoop-de-doo playground, we start to experience personally how threatening it can be, how cruel and unjust. At the very moment when we become, for the first time, both introspective and socially conscientious, we receive the bad news that the world, by and large, doesn't give a rat's ass. Even an old tomato like me can recall how painful, scary, and disillusioning that realization was. So, there's a tendency, then, to slip into rage and self-pity, which if indulged, can fester into bouts of depression.”“Yeah but Maestra—”“Don't interrupt. Now, unless someone stronger and wiser—a friend, a parent, a novelist, filmmaker, teacher, or musician—can josh us out of it, can elevate us and show us how petty and pompous and monumentally useless it is to take ourselves so seriously, then depression can become a habit, which, in tern, can produce a neurological imprint. Are you with me? Gradually, our brain chemistry becomes conditioned to react to negative stimuli in a particular, predictable way. One thing'll go wrong and it'll automatically switch on its blender and mix us that black cocktail, the ol’ doomsday daiquiri, and before we know it, we’re soused to the gills from the inside out. Once depression has become electrochemically integrated, it can be extremely difficult to philosophically or psychologically override it; by then it's playing by physical rules, a whole different ball game. That's why, Switters my dearest, every time you've shown signs of feeling sorry for yourself, I've played my blues records really loud or read to you from The Horse’s Mouth. And that’s why when you’ve exhibited the slightest tendency toward self-importance, I’ve reminded you that you and me— you and I: excuse me—may be every bit as important as the President or the pope or the biggest prime-time icon in Hollywood, but none of us is much more than a pimple on the ass-end of creation, so let’s not get carried away with ourselves. Preventive medicine, boy. It’s preventive medicine.”“But what about self-esteem?”“Heh! Self-esteem is for sissies. Accept that you’re a pimple and try to keep a lively sense of humor about it. That way lies grace—and maybe even glory.
— Tom Robbins, Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates

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