The Real Valley of the Dolls

735 Words2 Pages

“The Real Valley of the Dolls”, by Tom Robbins, reminded me of my grandfather, who would tell “off-color” jokes while keeping them acceptable for “mixed company”. Robbins and two of his friends, Alexa and Jon, take the reader on a trip to a place somewhere between Winnemucca and Las Vegas “smack dab in the middle of the Wild American West” (509) in a short story that flows between humor and spirituality, the reverent and the libidinous, the distant and not so distant past.

“The Real Valley of the Dolls” refers to North Canyon, which Robbins describes as “rather vaginal in shape, terminating in a scooped out basin . . . those so inclined could read uterus or womb”, decorated with petroglyphs, also known as Canyon of the Vaginas. Robbins explains the different types of petroglyphs in the western U.S., “some of them are ceremonial in intention, some are mnemonic, some totemic (clan symbols), and some, it would appear, just an outburst of pleasurable doodling” (510). While glyphs depicting vaginas are not limited to the Canyon of Vaginas, “at no other site is it found in such concentration or profusion” (511). It’s not just petroglyphs that draw people here, but also a spiritual connection to the Earth, and a strong connection with the past.

Robbins word choice is more sophistication than slang. At first glance, the essay may appear slightly bawdy, Robbin’s allusion to “holy real estate” and “being overlaid” (510) afford some interesting wordplay.

Much of the essay is filled with polar opposites, different metaphors for west-central Nevada; “present knocks against the past, development knocks against nature, repression against indulgence, reality against dream, masculine against feminine, the Goddess of Destruction against the...

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...hy? Why did the Shoshone “adorn the sun gate of Nevada’s high desert” with images of what some may call the center of feminine power? Was it, as Robbins suggests, “purely sexual, a horny pecking of individual lust.” or are some of his other ideas closer to reality; such as a (place for) “a coming of age ritual, a fertility motel, or homage to the feminine principle of Earth herself”” (511)? Perhaps the natural formation of the “Queen of the Yoni’s . . . the great-grandma of vaginas” inspired the Native American’s to honor it in glyphs. The answers may remain a mystery, as will the reason the ol’dudes don’t take off their hats.

Are we so far removed from “nature and those forces that our ancestors knew intimately yet seldom named”, if we don’t have a place to connect our “hormones to the stars” that we run the risk of becoming psychological paraplegics” (513)?

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