Ken Kraft feeds on wacky characters and a wry bobtail style. Lochinvar Bowers, the machine age Quixote, is a mechanical genius in deep-dish Mississippi but he'd ruther Dream Big in his hammock and go crabbing. However he is called on for his handymanliness to fix gnarled sewer lines. Lock's town is Bayouford, where five modern families form a paradigm of Progress, and despite its folksy idiom, Kraft's bayou never turns to mush; his constant humor has the valid flavor of uncooked Mother's Oats. The plot is back-country picaresque, gurgling away like a rusty roof gutter, and never resolved. And the titled rainbow is Lock's hoped for pot of gold which will allow him to retire, dream and fish. Lock is really not much smarter than the jackass eccentrics he services, but he allows the author to sample prosy human nature... You either like this kind of thing, or you don't and won't.