if you picked up this book because you've read brautigan before, skip this review, you don't need it. However, if you have no clue as to who could this guy envisioning an express between Tokyo and Montana, and you also think its a futile, impossible task, you're in for quite a treat. This book unfolds like an artichoke's flower, bursting out in strange but remarkably possible colors. Brautigan was someone who felt he had to write, you can tell by how he treats his words, with the utmost care and flippant caresses: How to explain an earthquake to a retarded child? try telling him wind is blowing through the ground, page whatever. Need i say more? Probably, but the pleasure is in discovery, not recognition.