Larval satire about larval seekers and growing up not just absurd but ludicrous in the '50's and '60's. Unfortunately Ward is an under-30 himself and, aside from cynicism and whatever discipline it took to type so many pages, he has no particular imaginative edge on his shlep hero and alter-ego Bobby Ward. Both their sensibilities were nursed at the knee of Clarabelle Clown (we're beginning to see the formative effects of 5:00 TV) with a later stylistic assist from Terry Southern. Despite the hip locales and the far-out marginalia, and despite the author's pose of total anarchistic disillusiomnent, this is the same old boy-meets-girl, boy-meets-guru shuck with poor Bobby on the bottom time after prime time. True to its genre, it goes from gee whiz to oh wow without expanding the message.