When millennial spiritual hunger replaces 90s infinite perfectibility as the trend du jour， self-help guru Ashton Robinson is there to catch the breaking wave. He s a surfer--a handsome， dreadlocked black Yale grad with a palatable message ("Try Harder") and no real convictions to capsize his motivational juggernaut. Then one night while he s tripping on a heady blend of expired cough suppressant and primo weed， a gender-bending Brazilian midget turns up， seduces him， and delivers this message: "You re hiding your ashay.... God chose you and only you to bring the world to the future. It will be a lonely and difficult journey， but you can do it." Ashton does enough spotty research to find out that axe (pronounced ashay) is more or less the Yoruba equivalent of chi--spiritual life force--as expressed in the Afro-Cuban-Brazilian traditions of Candomble， Santeria， and Vodun. To this he adds a much more rigorous pursuit of Tantric sex， collects a handful of true believers， and converts his California bachelor pad into the residential headquarters of a New Age cult， complete with GAP uniforms and cough syrup sacraments. Ashton s community eventually comes undone， thanks to intrinsic jealousies and extrinsic envy--as such social-spiritual experiments historically do. But before things fall apart， Ellis pokes some pointed fun at the psychosexual shortcomings of white males and writes a lot of ebullient ménage à many sex scenes， during which Ashton reserves his bodily fluids while manipulating his female devotées to hours-long continuous orgasm. Right Here， Right Now claims to be the transcription of Ashton s ongoing conversation with his pocket tape recorder. This narrative device may provide less subtle character inflection than Ellis intended， but it does assure that the cult s strong suit and the novel s are one and the same--more kinky， invigorating sex than the Heaven s Gate gang ever imagined. --Joyce Thompson