Astra, child of her age, tells her story with an insouciant naivete all in one breath, and if it is hard to explain, so's the fact that she's recruited in Greece to act as a courier for some new form of acid packaged like California Sunshine which the CIA or a right-wing equivalent will use to permanently depress troublemaking students. Got it? She hides the canister in the obvious locale, is raped (how's that again), is indirectly responsible for a murder, and makes her way across the continent via lorry, train, lavatory and a convent until she reaches England only to be hooked by a drug and an agency from which there is no withdrawal ever. . . . This assumes that you're very pliable and leaves you wondering about the distinction between a soft head and a washed brain.