Author Tom Robbins, whose novels read like a hit of literary LSD, filled with fantastical characters, manic metaphors and counterculture whimsy, died Sunday. He was 92.

Robbins’ death was announced by his wife, Alexa Robbins, on Facebook. The post did not cite a cause.

“He was surrounded by his family and loyal pets. Throughout these difficult last chapters, he was brave, funny and sweet,” Alexa Robbins wrote. “He asked that people remember him by reading his books.”

Robbins indulged the hippie sensibilities of young people starting in the early 1970s with books that had an overarching philosophy of what he called “serious playfulness” and a mandate that it should be pursued in the most outlandish ways possible.

As he wrote in “Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas:” “Minds were made for blowing.”

Robbins’ works included “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues,” “Another Roadside Attraction” and “Still Life With Woodpecker.”

Robbins’ characters were over the top, off the wall and around the bend. Among them were Sissy Hankshaw, the hitchhiker with the 9-inch thumbs in “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues,” and Switters, the pacifist CIA operative in love with a nun in “Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates.” “Skinny Legs and All” featured a talking can of pork and beans, a dirty sock and Turn Around Norman, a performance artist whose act consisted of moving imperceptibly.

“What I try to do, among other things, is to mix fantasy and spirituality, sexuality, humor and poetry in combinations that have never quite been seen before in literature,” Robbins said in an interview with January magazine in 2000. “And I guess when a reader finishes one of my books … I would like for him or her to be in the state that they would be in after a Fellini film or a Grateful Dead concert.”

He was born in Blowing Rock, North Carolina, and grew up there and in Richmond, Virginia, in a family that he once described as “kind of a Southern Baptist version of ‘The Simpsons.’” Robbins said he was dictating stories to his mother at age 5 and developed his writing skills further at Washington and Lee University in Virginia working on the school newspaper with Tom Wolfe, who would go on to write “The Right Stuff” and “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test.”

From newspapers to novels

Robbins worked as an editor, reporter and critic for newspapers in Richmond and Seattle, where he moved in the 1960s in search of a more progressive atmosphere than the South offered. He had a writing epiphany while reviewing a 1967 concert by the Doors.

“It had jimmied the lock on my language box and smashed the last of my literary inhibitions,” he wrote in the 2014 memoir “Tibetan Peach Pie.” “When I read over the paragraphs I’d written that midnight, I detected an ease, a freedom of expression, a syntax simultaneously wild and precise.”

What came next was 1971’s “Another Roadside Attraction,” the roundabout tale of how the mummified, unresurrected body of Jesus was stolen from the Vatican and ended up at a hot dog stand in the U.S. Northwest. Five years later, his second book, “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues,” in which Sissy hitchhiked her way through a world of sex, drugs and mysticism, made him a cult favorite.

His novels often had strong female protagonists, which made him especially popular with women readers. And while he appealed to the youth culture, the literary establishment never warmed to Robbins. Critics said his plots were formulaic and his style overwrought.

Robbins wrote his books in longhand on legal pads, producing only a couple of pages a day and with nothing plotted in advance. An attempt at using an electric typewriter ended with the author bashing it with a piece of lumber.

He labored over word selection and said he liked to “remind reader and writer alike that language is not the frosting, it’s the cake.” As a result, his works were overflowing with wild-eyed metaphors.

“Word spread like a skin disease in a nudist colony,” he wrote in “Skinny Legs and All.” In “Jitterbug Perfume” he described a falling man as going down “like a sack of meteorites addressed special delivery to gravity.”

Robbins, who had three children, lived with his wife, Alexa, in La Conner, Washington, 70 miles north of Seattle.