{"product_id":"fierce-invalids-home-from-hot-climates-isbn-9780553379334","title":"Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates","description":"\u003cb\u003eA “deranged and delightful concoction” (\u003ci\u003eFortune\u003c\/i\u003e) about a CIA agent with uniquely peculiar proclivities, from the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eStill Life with Woodpecker\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Clever, creative, and witty, Robbins tosses off impassioned observations like handfuls of flower petals.”—\u003ci\u003eThe San Diego Union-Tribune\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSwitters is a contradiction for all seasons: an anarchist who works for the government; a pacifist who carries a gun; a vegetarian who sops up ham gravy; a cyberwhiz who hates computers; a man who, though obsessed with the preservation of innocence, is aching to deflower his high-school-age stepsister (only to become equally enamored of a nun ten years his senior).\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYet there is nothing remotely wishy-washy about Switters. He doesn’t merely pack a pistol. He \u003ci\u003eis\u003c\/i\u003e a pistol. And as we dog Switters’s strangely elevated heels across four continents, in and out of love and danger, discovering in the process the “true” Third Secret of Fatima, we experience Tom Robbins—that fearless storyteller, spiritual renegade, and verbal break dancer—at the top of his game. On one level this is a fast-paced CIA adventure story with comic overtones; on another it’s a serious novel of ideas that brings the Big Picture into unexpected focus; but perhaps more than anything else, \u003ci\u003eFierce Invalids\u003c\/i\u003e is a sexy celebration of language and life.\u003cb\u003ePraise for Tom Robbins and \u003ci\u003eFierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Superb.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNew York Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Dangerous? Wicked? Forbidden? You bet. . . . Pour yourself a bowl of chips and dig in.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eDaily News\u003c\/i\u003e, New York \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Robbins is a great writer . . . and definitely a provocative rascal.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Tennessean\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Robbins proves again that he can tell a wicked tale . . . [He] has created a spokesman for a world order where the enlightened individual once again reigns. At least individuals who can handle it.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKansas City Star\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Like any Robbins tale, it’s deceptively funny yet dead serious in its confrontation with Big Issues: the nature of God and Satan; the hypocrisy of organized religions; the insidious evils of government, big business, and advertising; liberalism vs. conservatism; the condition of humanity in an inhumane world.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Sacramento Bee\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“For fans of Robbins’s nonlinear playfulness, this story of a CIA agent hooked on sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll offers plenty of abandon and unexpected rewards.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eSan Francisco Chronicle \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[Robbins] takes us on his typical rowdy and irreverent ride, surprising us both with the story he tells and with the way he tells it . . . may be Robbins’s best work to date.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Richmond Times Dispatch \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Robbins is still the Houdini of unchained similes and metaphors.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eDetroit Free Press\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ingenious . . . Tom Robbins writes operas chock full of mind-altering images and calls them novels . . . Fans like him for going all-out cosmic, for twisting what seem like unlikely words into brilliant Mobius strips of humor and beauty.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Seattle Times\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[Robbins] has written a new novel that pops like a dogwood in springtime . . . it will do everything to delight those who realize they need a jolt from his cosmic jumper cables every so often.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePhiladelphia News\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The father (in this century) of all nose-thumbers . . . [Robbins] is also the inspiration for disreputable treaders of the line between thriller and literature.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Robbins balances the comic and the cosmic much as a juggler might balance a kitchen chair on a spoon. Highly recommended.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[Robbins] brews another deranged and delightful concoction about a man who does it all for God, country, and the love of women.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eFortune\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Philosophical screwball comedy.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePeople\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Full of little wisdoms, \u003ci\u003eInvalids\u003c\/i\u003e is the literary equivalent of whitewater-rafting the rapids of Africa’s Zambezi River with the Marx Brothers in tow.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One of the most inventive writers on the planet.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Dallas Morning News\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No one writes like Robbins . . . When you look closely at his work, there are virtually no throwaway lines— they seem crafted.”\u003cb\u003e—Tracy Johnson, \u003ci\u003eSalon\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eTom Robbins\u003c\/b\u003e has been called “a vital natural resource” by the \u003ci\u003eOregonian\u003c\/i\u003e, “one of the wildest and most entertaining novelists in the world” by the \u003ci\u003eFinancial Times\u003c\/i\u003e of London, and “the most dangerous writer in the world” by Fernanda Pivano of Italy’s \u003ci\u003eCorriere della Sera\u003c\/i\u003e. His works include \u003ci\u003eJitterbug Perfume\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eFierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eEven Cowgirls Get the Blues\u003c\/i\u003e.  A Southerner by birth, Tom Robbins lived in and around Seattle from 1962 until he passed away in 2025.\u003ci\u003eLima, Peru\u003cbr\u003eOctober 1997\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe naked parrot looked like a human fetus spliced onto a kosher chicken. It was so old it had lost every single one of its feathers, even its pinfeathers, and its bumpy, jaundiced skin was latticed by a network of rubbery blue veins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Pathological,\" muttered Switters, meaning not simply the parrot but the whole scene, including the shrunken old woman in whose footsteps the bird doggedly followed as she moved about the darkened villa. The parrot's scabrous claws made a dry, scraping noise as they fought for purchase on the terra-cotta floor tiles, and when, periodically, the creature lost its footing and skidded an inch or two, it issued a squawk so quavery and feeble that it sounded as if it were being petted by the Boston Strangler. Each time it squawked, the crone clucked, whether in sympathy or disapproval one could not tell, for she never turned to her devoted little companion but wandered aimlessly from one piece of ancient wooden furniture to another in her amorphous black dress.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSwitters feigned appreciation, but he was secretly repulsed, all the more so because Juan Carlos, who stood beside him on the patio, also spying in the widow's windows, was beaming with pride and satisfaction. Switters slapped at the mosquitoes that perforated his torso and cursed every hair on that hand of Fate that had snatched him into South too-goddamn-vivid America.\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBoquichicos, Peru\u003cbr\u003eNovember 1997\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAttracted by the lamplight that seeped through the louvers, a mammoth moth beat against the shutters like a storm. Switters watched it with some fascination as he waited for the boys to bring his luggage up from the river. That moth was no butterfly, that was certain. It was a night animal, and it had a night animal's mystery.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eButterflies were delicate and gossamer, but this moth possessed strength and weight. Its heavy wings were powdered like the face of an old actress. Butterflies were presumed to be carefree, moths were slaves to a fiery obsession. Butterflies seemed innocuous, moths somehow...erotic. The dust of the moth was a sexual dust. The twitch of the moth was a sexual twitch. Suddenly Switters touched his throat and moaned. He moaned because it occurred to him how much the moth resembled a clitoris with wings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVivid.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere were grunts on the path behind him, and Inti emerged from the forest bearing, somewhat apprehensively, Switters's crocodile-skin valise. In a moment the other two boys appeared with the rest of his gear. It was time to review accommodations in the Hotel Boquichicos. He dreaded what he might find behind its shuttered windows, its double-screened doors, but he motioned for the boys to follow him in. \"Let's go. This insect--\" He nodded at the great moth that, fan though it might, was unable to stir the steaming green broth that in the Amazon often substitutes for air. \"This insect is making me feel--\" Switters hesitated to utter the word, even though he knew Inti could understand no more than a dozen simple syllables of English. \"This insect is making me feel \u003ci\u003elibidinous.\"\u003c\/i\u003e","brand":"Bantam","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302016536805,"sku":"NP9780553379334","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780553379334.jpg?v=1767726842","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/fierce-invalids-home-from-hot-climates-isbn-9780553379334","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}