Bij deze heb ik officieel alle romans van Pynchon gelezen

Estamos quizás ante una de las novelas con menos predicamento dentro de la narrativa de Thomas Pynchon. No tiene la brevedad y encanto La subasta del lote 49 ni el prestigio de sus grandes tochos. En verdad se trata de una narración que sirve de conglomerado de diferentes signos y temas de la contracultura, aunque vistos desde finales de los 80, con todo el aire de desencanto y derrota que ello conlleva. En ese panorama la influencia de la televisión goza de una prevalencia capital.

Y se oía a otros abuelos discutir la perenne cuestión de si los Estados Unidos flotaban aún en un crepúsculo prefascista o si esa oscuridad había caído hacía muchos y estúpidos años y la luz que creían ver procedía únicamente de millones de teles mostrando todas ellas las mismas sombras de brillantes colores. página 350

El problema de vuestra generación -opinó Isaías-, sin ánimo de ofender, es que creíais en vuestra Revolución, que le consagrasteis vuestras vidas... pero desde luego no entendíais gran cosa de la tele. En el momento mismo en el que la tele os enganchó se acabó lo que se daba, toda esa América alternativa, igual que los indios, lo vendisteis todo a vuestros verdaderos enemigos, y encima en dólares de 1970, demasiado barato... página 351


David Foster Wallace por lo visto deploraba de esta novela, juicio a mi parecer exagerado y precipitado, pues sin duda tiene nivel. Su principal "fallo" es que su complicación no es tan desorbitada como en El arcoiris de gravedad y eso por lo visto disgusta a los esnobs más petulantes. No les complace porque no luce demasiado presumir de haber comprendido un texto menos impenetrable y razonablemente accesible. Pero es una novela de Thomas Pynchon, por lo tanto no es un bocado blando y ligero. Tiene toda esa prosa alambicada de Pynchon (en ocasiones demasiado), también muchos saltos temporales y en el punto de vista. En vez de esas fantasías paranoides de títulos anteriores encontramos una mezcla de mitos y leyendas entretejidos en tramas políticas muy detalladas y aventuras de drogadictos, también desliza, muy de vez en cuando, sueños que insuflan cierta elevación etérea y se une al habitual contraste de Pynchon entre lo muy docto con lo muy grosero, el cultismo con el comentario sobre tetas.

La verdad es que a pesar de sus cualidades, a pesar que tiene momentos maravillosos (sobre todo en el tramo final) y otros muy divertidos (como ese pasaje dónde Brock Vond cree que se le girará el cerebro por culpa de un ataque de risa incontrolada) a veces se me ha hecho demasiado embrollada, con unas cuantas escenas muy dialogadas y de poco fuste, también algunos pasajes poco gratificantes. El balance final es positivo pero no entusiasta. Yo recomendaría no perdértela ni pasarla por alto si te interesa la contracultura norteamericana o simplemente has disfrutado de Pynchon anteriormente. No le hagas caso a David Foster Wallace, que como prescriptor cultural / crítico no se habría ganado la vida ni en broma.


Y cómo nota curiosa, cabe comentar que en la película que a estas horas está acabando de montar Paul Thomas Anderson (que toma como inspiración esta novela) uno de los papeles, de supremacista blanco, un trasunto del Brock Vond de este Vineland, ha recaído en Sean Penn, quien es mencionado dentro de la novela.

This is going to be a tough review. This is one of those books that people go ape over. But I’m not quite sure why. I usually think that I’m just not quite smart enough. Or maybe it has more to do with being intellectual than smart if you have any idea what the difference is!

Someplace I read that this is the story of a 14-year-old girl searching for her mother who abandoned her at some early time in her life. I suppose that is possible. Aren’t we all searching for some thing sometime in our lives? Why not for our mother?

The story is filled with references to the lives of serious hippies from another era. I live through that era supposedly but I live through it mostly in Michigan which was not quite the same I suppose as living through it in California for example. I did live in Ann Arbor for a while which had a five dollar marijuana fine and was a haven for teenage runaways who thought Ann Arbor what is the place to be. I grew a little dope in my backyard in Ann Arbor but it never got more than about a foot and a half tall and just about the time I was ready to harvest it, some Kids on bikes stole it and Kerry to head up my street dropping clods of dirt along the way.

So I’m sorry I cannot tell you very much about this book to encourage you to read it or to not read it. I would recommend the audible version because as usual the reader is the one who has to pronounce any difficult words and presumably knows the tunes for the variety of songs that are included in the book.

A few years back A friend on good reads said she had made a CD of songs or music related to this book. At my request she sent me a copy of the CD. Now that I have listen to the whole book I see that regularly particular songs or movies or other things are referred to in the book and those apparently have led a number of people to make collections of music that are somehow related to the book.

I read another book by this author and gave it one star because I was totally Baffled by the contents. This book seems far less convoluted and I could occasionally follow a bit of a storyline or simply enjoy somewhat the excursions into the undergrowth that surround the story and make it only slightly impenetrable. Kind of like the entrances to hell that are referred to near the end of the book that have now all grown over. When everybody who lived in the 1960s and 1970s and 1980s is long gone, I am not sure whether this book will still have any enduring interest.

Me rindo. Cuando te da tanta pereza coger un libro que parece que lo estás leyendo obligado es mejor decir basta. Y eso que al principio me enganchó; tengo debilidad por el humor absurdo y los personajes estrambóticos de los que está bien servida Vineland. Pero conforme avanzaba la lectura tenía cada vez la sensación de no estar yendo a ningún sitio.

Pynchon se mueve aquí en espirales que van abarcando cada vez más personajes a los que dedica unas páginas antes de pasar al siguiente, como un espectáculo de circo. Pero en el circo todo funciona mientras el espectador esté pendiente de un "más difícil todavía". Si juegas con la sorpresa no puedes permitirte repetirte.

Y justo esa ha sido la sensación que me ha llevado a abandonar. Los nuevos personajes no me aportaban nada nuevo, y ya no encontraba interés en intentar averiguar por dónde iba a continuar la trama. La espiral se había convertido en un círculo del que no encontraba salida. Salvo, literalmente, abandonándolo.

Sometimes a book feels like it was written just for you

Has anyone else ever employed such loopy, labyrinthine, lovely language to tell such weird and wackily written tales? I think not.

I had a preconceived notion of what just how good Vineland would be before I read it. My opinions about the book have been influenced by numerous accounts of how weak it was. After having read everything that preceded Pynchon's fourth novel, it's still difficult for me to wholeheartedly disagree, even though I thoroughly enjoyed some parts of it. It made me laugh...but even though I wasn't an avid fan when it was published in 1990, I still couldn't help wonder why this was the book that Pynchon decided to put out there seventeen years after Gravity's Rainbow. The basic sentiment stands; it's inevitable that anything that he had published after Gravity's Rainbow would pale in comparison. That novel is wonderful, and despite my inability to explain exactly why it is, I have a hard time sincerely saying that his subsequent effort really matched up at all. So there it is, I've said it. I've been influenced by descriptions of Vineland, as well as my preconceived expectation for utter disappointment, and now I have to talk about it. However, Salman Rushdie seemed to have enjoyed it. His NYT review is glowing with beatnick-pastiche zeal.

Vineland basically begins with Zoyd Wheeler, a burnt-out "generic long-hair" who is preparing to do his annual publicity stunt (jumping through the window of a bar) in order to cash in on his disability check issued by the government. His old arch-nemesis Hector Zuniga shows up looking for his old lady, Frenesi Gates, and is wondering; will Zoyd help the FBI and the DEA please find out where she is? His daughter Prairie is interested, as much as a young daughter could be in her counterculture/hippie/anarchist/ filmmaker mother. The narrative unfolds through old friends explaining Frenesi's tumultuous political existence to her estranged daughter.

It's in this context that Pynchon covers a lot of ground. What follows is basically a critique of both the Nixon and Reagan years. It's mostly vitriol too, as Pynchon has obviously been harboring in many of these views since finishing Gravity's Rainbow. As usual, it isn't unbalanced because he makes a point of addressing the fact that the hippie movement had failed due to the way that this particular historical revolution had been sublimated by popular culture, television, drugs, rock and roll music, etc. This is all thanks to the American government, and a point that Pynchon wants to stress throughout the book.

How is it though? I don't know. Maybe if I had read it when it just came out in 1990? Hunter S. Thomspon's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas covers the same ground, as well as countless other authors. Whether or not I actually have read enough about the 60's, I simply feel like I know too much about this point in history, and that my knowledge of which has been negatively influenced by romantic cliches. Most of Vineland's pomo zaniness feels stilted, due to this particular style being heavily exploited throughout the early nineties. Pynchon's tone and style seem weak throughout, making Vineland sound, at times, like someone ghostwriting for him. It just lacks the acerbic wit and humor that all of his previous novels embody. I don't think I need to remind too many people that the Crying of Lot 49 covered the same historical period in time with a little more...character.

Is it great Pynchon, no. Is it bad Pynchon, no. It's just Pynchon, and personally that is a statment that I would like to avoid using.

Καθώς διάβαζα άλλο ένα απίθανο βιβλίο του Pynchon αυτό που είχα συνέχεια στο μυαλό μου ήταν τι εντύπωση θα μου έκανε αν το διάβαζα σε real time, το 1990, ως το βιβλίο που κυκλοφόρησε ο συγγραφέας μετά από 17 χρόνια σιωπής που ακολούθησαν το αξεπέραστο Ουράνιο Τόξο. Αυτό βέβαια δεν είναι κάτι άλλο από απλή λογοτεχνική άσκηση, γιατί το Vineland αν κ μάλλον είναι το βιβλίο του που με συγκίνησε περισσότερο (είμαι στα μισά της βιβλιογραφίας του βέβαια), ταυτόχρονα είναι ξεκάθαρο ότι δεν φθάνει τα ύψη όσων είχαν προηγηθεί κ αυτών που θα ακολουθούσαν (π.χ. mason & dixon, δεν έχω διαβάσει το Ενάντια στη Μέρα αν κ έχω προσπαθήσει). Ίσως να είχα απογοητευτεί, ποιος ξέρει. Το σίγουρο είναι πως το 2017 μοιάζει σαν ένα μικρό αριστούργημα.

Το Vineland, αν κ το χαρακτηρίζει το απίθανο χιούμορ του συγγραφέα του, είναι ένα σκοτεινό βιβλίο που σχολιάζει την κατέρρευση των χίπικων ονείρων των 60s (για τους Αμερικανούς καυτό θέμα, αντίστοιχο με τα όσα σημαίνει το τέλος του σοσιαλιστικού ονείρου για την ευρωπαϊκή λογοτεχνία). Ο Pynchon με ασταμάτητα μπρος πίσω στο χρόνο (το σήμερα του βιβλίου είναι το 1984 -Ρίγκαν δηλαδή κτλ.) αφηγείται μια παρανοϊκή ιστορία των 60s που περιλαμβάνει μια γυναίκα-νίντζα, πολλά ναρκωτικά, ανθρώπινες σχέσεις κάθε είδους, μια υπόνοια από Γκοντζίλα, ανάσταση νεκρών, επιτυχημένες κ αποτυχημένες εξεγέρσεις, χωρίς ο αναγνώστης να χάνει το ενδιαφέρον του ούτε λεπτό. Σε δεύτερο επίπεδο, υπάρχει η οικογένεια κ εκεί ακριβώς βρίσκονται οι καλύτερες σελίδες του βιβλίου. Οι πρωταγωνιστές του βιβλίου αλλάζουν κι εκεί που στην αρχή πιστεύεις πως θα διαβάσεις κάτι αντίστοιχο με το Inherent Vice κ πως όλα θα κινηθούν γύρω απ'τον Zoyd κ την κόρη του καθώς θα προσπαθήσουν να ξεφύγουν απ'τα δόντια του FBI, το βιβλίο απλώνεται κ εστιάζει σε ένα σκασμό απίθανους χαρακτήρες με τον Ιάπωνα ασφαλιστή Takeshi να είναι μάλλον ο αγαπημένος μου. Ίσως βέβαια ο Pynchon να το παρακάνει με τις εναλλαγές αφού κάπου στα μισά το Vineland μοιάζει ένα πολύ μπερδεμένο κουβάρι αλλά το καταπληκτικό φιναλε δικαιολογεί μάλλον τα πάντα.

Δεν θα πω τίποτα παραπάνω, απίθανο βιβλίο, ανώτερο του IV

Υ.Γ. Ας προσποιηθούμε όλοι μαζί πως το βιβλίο δεν έχει μεταφραστεί στα ελληνικά, όχι γιατί ο μεταμοντέρνος τρόπος γραφής του, δύσκολα διασώζεται στην μετάφραση (ο Κυριαζής έχει αποδείξει άλλωστε το αντίθετο) αλλά γιατί η ελληνική μετάφραση του Βαχλιώτη κάνει αυτή του Μάτεσι στο Handmaid's Tale να φαντάζει ως το καλύτερο πράγμα που έχει συμβεί στην ιστορία της μεταφρασμένης πεζογραφίας της χώρας. Τονίζω ότι δεν υπάρχει δείγμα ιδιοτροπίας εδώ, πρόκειται για έγκλημα. Ότι υπάρχει άνθρωπος που το διάβασε στα ελληνικά κ του άρεσε είτε αποδεικνύει το μεγαλείο του Pynchon είτε ότι το όνομα του "δύσκολου" που κουβαλάει ήταν αρκετή δικαιολογία για να προσπεραστούν τα όσα ακατανόητα συμβαίνουν. Ντρέπομαι να το πουλήσω μη τυχόν κ το αγοράσει κάποιος.

I've now read all of Pynchon's novels. I have Slow Learner: Early Stories heading my way from the library, and then there's nothing else left but to re-read them all again. Which I will probably do, over and over, for the rest of my life.

I'll admit that Vineland took me a minute to get into, but once I did, I really enjoyed the world spun up in its pages. It's obviously "minor" Pynchon, or "Pynchon-lite" as coined by Michiko Kakutani in her review of Bleeding Edge, but in some ways, that is a wonderful thing. The fact that Pynchon's range goes from erudite metaphors of entropy and the human death/sex drive to familial dramas ala TV soap operas is remarkable.

I don't really have a lot to add here other than to say that I do feel a pit of sadness not having another Pynchon work to look forward to—sure, I still have Slow Learner to churn through soon, but that doesn't really count. I hope the guy, turning 83 this year, has something cooking for us, ready to present soon. I need it. The country needs it.

2023 review:

ja kijk 8 jaar later moet ik bekennen dat hoewel JA het 'plot' is nog steeds vaag en JA af en toe is pynchon onuitstaanbaar maar also JA het is vermakelijk en soms grappig en NEE sincerity did not die an ironic death dus JA ik ervoer wel wat emotionele roerselen in de laatste paar pagina's dus ??? ben ik bekeerd ??? ben ik een pynchonoid ??? in this essay i will--

2015 review:

I've reread the first 50/60 pages and other bits for my essay, and as always (mostly) when I think longer about a novel I've read for uni, or I write an essay about it, the more I appreciate it.

As one of my teachers apparently uses to say, "Pynchon is better reread than read."

Damn.
3.5 stars it is then. Maybe, one day, I'll upgrade it to 4 stars.

While not for me his strongest book, Vineland shows very Pychonian characters trying to work out their relationships to each other. There is even a big Hollywood style ending (probably a pastiche/parody) to the story. I found that the backdrop was less the chaos and anarchy that I appreciated in Gravity's Rainbow, Mason&Dixon and Against the Day and so I appreciated this one less than those. I would put it low in the Pychon canon but still suggest that it is worth reading for his insights into California hippyism which are often hilarious and sometimes poignant.

Vineland is Pynchon at his most empathetic. I find strong emotions run through his books in different ways, but you can really feel the strong sense of nostalgic regret and remorse he feels toward the 60s of California, and this is his eulogy. In a brave showing, he does not show it as some pristine utopia, but finds humor in its eccentricities, even pointing a disappointed finger at those inside who sold their own movement out for quick fixes, yet also taking the time to understand and empathize with these same lost souls.

Laugh out loud funny, with brilliantly beautiful paragraphs of somber remorse, also with interludes and parodies of ninja movies and cop TV shows, all wrapped up in the heartbreaking story of a young girl trying to understand the lost turncoat rebel mother who abandoned her.

I really, really adored this book. Don't listen to the haters.