When gynecologist (""pussyplumber"") Henry Fargus wants to take a restful fishing vacation in the Gulf of Mexico, who does he think of but his old college pal headshrinker Arnold Weathermore, a former closet Negro (1/16 blood) suddenly into ""radical"" (to Mississippian Fargus) political movements like the NAACP. It's all downhill from the time a storm forces their Cessna to land near an island whose inhabitants are as unfriendly as they are isolated -- being under the inexplicable spell of a crazy preacher whose vision of god is inextricably mixed up with shooting geese and hanging outsiders. But all this makes sense compared to the demi-octoroon's refusal to escape, or Fargus' shooting of the friendly island denizen who helps him escape, or. . . . But why further reveal the plot of a singularly unpleasant novel, whose meaning is as hidden as the island the reader surely hopes never to see again.