Whoa, a non-fiction book. Yes, it’s true, I sometimes read stories that actually happened. In this case, though, that old cliche that the truth is stranger than fiction might be apt. Richard Rushfield went to Hampshire College in the late 1980s, when it was at the height of its reign as an alternative education hippie haven. Rushfield, with his aversion to marijuana and general antipathy towards all things hippie, doesn’t fit in. In fact, he quickly becomes an on-campus pariah and finds himself exiled to the woods — literally — where he takes up residence with the mysterious Supreme Dicks. As you may have guessed, the Dicks are the most hated group on campus, with their experimental post-punk band and their bizarre quasi-Reichian ideology.
Rushfield has a knack for perfectly describing both the mundane and the surreal. I’m an admitted sucker for campus literature, so of course I loved Don’t Follow Me, I’m Lost. Those who have never spent long hours drinking jug wine and discussing philosophy on a ratty couch on the porch of a dumpy apartment may feel differently. If nothing else, this book offers the purest glimpse of hell I’ve ever seen, as Rushfield describes the ill-conceived trip he and his friends took to Daytona Beach for spring break. Good times!