Villa Incognito

Once upon a time, a satyr-like Japanese badger-spirit seduced and impregnated a mortal. Many generations later (two or so years into the present century), an infant descendent arrives in the U.S., promising a more joyful, mystical, nature-loving future for all Americans. This is the story of how the child/creature got here with the unwitting help of three Vietnam-era Army deserters living in the title Laotian villa, where they traffic illegally in medicinal heroin. These nefarious smart-asses are heroes, according to our author, who invests them and his narrative with mischievous, sexy, and subversive humor. Crisp-toned Barrett Whitener totally buys into the romp, unintimidated by the overrich vocabulary and mystical esoterica. He does an astonishing job impersonating the Asian characters. When the text runs out of steam near the end, he perks it up. Thanks to Whitener, staying tuned through the end is a pleasure. Y.R. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award (c) AudioFile 2003, Portland, Maine

Starred review from April 14, 2003
Donald Barthelme once said, "Those who never attempt the absurd never achieve the impossible." Robbins (Still Life with Woodpecker; Jitterbug Perfume; etc.) has made a career of attempting and achieving both, and in this, his eighth novel, he pulls it off again. Here we have weirdness personified, a quirky, outrageous concoction that is a joy to the imagination. The novel begins with the story of Tanuki, a badgerlike Asian creature with a reputation as a changeling and trickster and a fondness for sake. Also part of the cast is a beautiful young woman who may or may not have Tanuki's blood in her veins (but definitely does have a chrysanthemum seed embedded in the roof of her mouth), and three American MIAs who have chosen to remain in Laos long after the Vietnam War. Events are set in motion when one of the MIAs, dressed as a priest, is arrested with a cache of heroin taped to his body. In vintage Robbins style, the plot whirls every which way, as the author, writing with unrestrained glee, takes potshots at societal pillars: the military, big business and religions of all ilks. The language is eccentric, electrifying and true to the mark. A few examples: "The afternoon passed more slowly than a walnut-sized kidney stone"; "He crooned the way a can of cheap dog food might croon if a can of cheap dog food had a voice"; "Dickie's heart felt suddenly like an iron piano with barbwire strings and scorpions for keys." While the ending is a bit of a letdown, this is delectable farce, full of tantalizing secrets and bizarre disguises. Author tour.