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DEPARTAMENTOS
INTERESSE GERAL
INTERESSE GERAL 2
LIVROS TÉCNICOS
LIVROS TÉCNICOS 2
CATEGORIAS
- IMPORTADOS
The Spontaneous Generation
Cód:
491_9781478710691
The Spontaneous Generation is the first novel in The HOOCH Trilogy, followed by HOOCH and Drug War Archipelago. The Spontaneous Generation traces the early rise of Henry Oliver Oliver Church, or Hooch, a typical teen, accused of murder, who runs away from his sleepy hometown of Tucson, Arizona, lighting out for broader shores, in the summer of pre-love 1966. The Spontaneous Generation tails Hooch on his hitchhike across Americas heartland: an explosive phantasmagoria, Hoochs kaleidoscoping dreams lighting up the U. S. A. with ruby deserts, castles out of emerald Southern savannas, and awakening Appalachians from the arcane constellations of his red-rimmed sleep. Fueling himself with candy bars and Royal Crown Colas, Hooch, lucid through a racially-divided South and a war-torn North, soon inhabits a mimetic space-time that unfolds the fate of his speeding flight, shadowed by cops, down ghostly Interstates, Orestes sleeping in culverts, peopled with dandelions. Behind Hooch lay on lugubrious couches the collective masses (oh those sad old alcoholics!) of the greatest generation, the tubal consumers of middle-class stupors, and the merry-go-round of gray flannel conformity. Hooch winds up in the Big Apple. At first as alienated labor, eyeless at the mills, working a lunch pail job, Hooch lives at the YMCA. Enough of that jazz. Hoochs nose for the Zeitgeist leads him out of that Egypt. Hooch joins the East Villages Family for Communal Living, another artificial paradise, produced by a Leary-like lecturer, Luke Bartholomew, whose magic lantern consists of a loosely-tied kibbutz of seekers for the truth, united on their utopiate island by hopes of a new age now beginning. And when prophecy fails, Hooch is there to provide the comfort grass. Counter-cultural ethno-botanical lessons in growing up surreal continue for the ensorcelled apprentice at the Family for Communal Living until police crash the pad, sparking the ever-present powder keg of discontented passers
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