The far-famed Ostman tale of how he was kidnapped by a Sasquatch family and held for six days rivals Patricia Hearst's story in its freakish possibilities: if only one knew what to believe. Grumley seems to accept Ostman's version, and a great many other fables about the Bigfoot and the other varieties of folklore Brobdingnagians -- the Yeti (known to us Occidentals as the Abominable Snowman) and the Mono Grande (the boogeyman of South America). It's all a serious affair to him, and he offers analyses of feces, foot structure, giant jawbones, and recites such mouthfuls as Gigantopithecus. Sure, he says, a lot of the stories are just old yarns spun by old yarn-spinners; and what was thought to be the pseudo-man himself in Brazil may well have been a member of the Kreen Akrore, a tribe of reclusive bush Indians who paint themselves black. But the giant is still out there, and we have only to look to our own mythologies to hear of him: Gilgamesh, Genesis, and Norse and Greek legends. And let us protect him when we see him: he is, after all, a blood brother. Aside from the fact that Grumley is easily distracted by chakras, the sexual habits of anglerfish and prehistoric birds, he spins a good yarn himself.