Luke Rhinehart, he's the psychiatrist of his untoward and unruly novel, has written this swinging account of the whole new therapy he structures -- a kind of emotional roulette in which ""anybody can be anybody."" This is to counteract the dismal success of analysis which only manages to well-adjust everyone to boredom. Until now Luke's been ""passive, compassionate, non-interruptive, non-directing. . . . More precisely he resembles a redundant moron."" But he discovers, faster than you can remember Iacta est alea, that the dice offer liberating and exciting options, uses them to determine Habit-Breaking patterns with enormous sex potential and Role-Playing possibilities -- a different one every day. He rapes his co-shrink's wife and leaves his own and his children, establishes the Dice Centers which Time calls ""motel madhouses,"" redirects his clientele's lives in an outrageous fashion, and finally commits the ultimate. . . murder. Mr. Rhinehart's book goes on a little too long but there are some chaotic and, well, dicey scenes of great invention and bonafide humor. The odds are that this will be a winning combination and certainly his rowdy, seriocomic talent is splendidly displayed.