The strangest memoir you will ever read.
“You or your parents lived it. I helped start it. And it was an accident. It was the era of myth, legend, sex, and extreme adventure called The Sixties. The decade when people under the age of 25 changed the world.”
“I blasted through Howard Bloom’s How I Accidentally Started the Sixties
like the wildfire swallowing up my mountain in California. I loved it. The molecular amusement ride, the sexual Disneyland, the Chevy 350 Impala blasting down the freeway at 120 mph. The universal essence is its brilliant simplicity…..Reality is really a mind field seen through Bloom’s neurotic Buddha-like mind resplendent with every major family issue mortal humans will ever come across in a life time: identity, parents, meaning, self, non-self, food, habitation, education, goals, marriage, family, children, God, sex, more sex————DRUGS. It slithers like a rattlesnake across the page, the way a story should. What I love most is the off the wall comedy. Howard Bloom as Harpo Marx riding a freight train like Buddha carrying his life in a sleeping bag. I mean it’s priceless. Bloom’s psychedelic journey across the American landscape, is deciphered through the irresistible minds of murderers, crackpots, Nobel Prize Playboy bunnies, scholars, waiters, hobo gurus, cops, professors, French majors, psychiatrists, cock suckers, recreational drug users, Mormons, Jews, nut jobs, laundry mat owners, demonic children, lizards………..Aldous Huxley with a pinch of Timothy Leary………….and every molecule in the universe. It separates Bloom from any scientist/global mind who ever lived. Richard Feynman, Albert Einstein, and Aldous Huxley would be proud. Each man strived to marry science, art, and poetry but never managed to pull it off. How I Accidentally Started the Sixties
does. I salute Howard Bloom. His doctrine sparkles every page with his Promethean fire; distilled in Shakespeare’s immortal words, ‘From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive’…..[women] are the books, the arts, the academies, that show, contain and nourish the world.’ Love’s Labour Lost, only in Bloom’s case, found, lost, and then found again. God only knows what else this mastermind is hiding from the rest of us.” – Mark Lamonica
, winner of the Southern California Booksellers Association Nonfiction Award, author of Junk Yard Dogs And William Shakespeare
and Renaissance Porn Star: The Saga of Pietro Aretino, The World’s Greatest Hustler