Kudra came from a family of incense makers, having learned the trade from her father, but as a woman living in a society that didn’t think much of women, she was only allowed to work with him until an arranged marriage forced her to live with her husband’s family.
Meanwhile, a few centuries later, Kudra is living in India and has a few problems of her own. Refusing to accept a death sentence, Alobar, with Wren’s help, is soon on his way out of town with all of his body parts intact. As with all plots, however well-devised, eventually, Alobar was discovered. This caused a bit of consternation among the other wives who all wanted equal time with the king, and to show his energy was not sagging, Alobar serviced them all, an exhausting proposition. He called for his favorite wife, Wren, and convinced her to be his eyes each morning, plucking whatever grey hairs revealed themselves in the night. As one of those rare men who think outside the customs and mores of the times, there was no way Alobar was accepting this fate. He felt no less strong this day than yesterday, but the rules of tribe dictated otherwise and once they found out they would kill him and select a new ruler. When Alobar finds a grey hair after catching his visage in the looking-glass his life is forfeit. A king must be strong so he can protect the people. Where to start? Somewhere in ancient Bohemia where Alobar was the feisty ruler of a band of warriors and wenches who fought hard, played hard, and disposed of their king the minute he showed the first sign of weakness. A few tears does not an episode of weeping make - it’s those kinds of nuances Robbins happily points out (it’s draperies, not drapes) - but it did make me think that I’ve got a long way to go if I’m ever going put out a masterpiece like Jitterbug Perfume. Did I think it would make me weep? Technically, it didn’t. There are too many other books out there and despite the deliciousness of the first reading, I feel it indulgent to circle back, but it had been thirty years since I first read Jitterbug Perfume so I allowed this one decadent revisit. How can the rest of us even hope to compete? I rarely read a book twice. I just finished rereading Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins and not only did I shed a tear of joy for the rowdy and philosophical magnificence of this book, but there went a second one for the lusty, enigmatic curiosity with which Robbins imbues all of his work, plus the man has a knack for simile and metaphor that’s unbeatable. What the heck, I may as well pack it in right now.
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