A preposterous potpourri of philosophic ideas, some from the East, some from the West, some from hunger. This is watered Gandhi, watered Freud, watered Yogi and a half-crazed, half-Pereimanized autobiographical account. At one point, Haterr is tired of the East and leaves for London; at another he offers himself as a piece of meat in a lion's denall for a married woman; at another he is denuded and debunked by a twentieth century Buddha; and at still another he is at the mercy of a Eunuch-God in a tent at night. All are mock adventures. Their effect is confusing, infuriating. The style hops and gurgles-parenthesizing and italicizing itself to death.