I can now officially say this is my new co-favorite novel.

Far less intimidating than his great, overwrought Gravity's Rainbow, this 1990 novel presents a zany spoof satirical thriller on the surface, with an order of Harley-riding nuns, ninjettes, Reaganaught law enforcement agencies, 1960's radicals who have been driven underground or turned informants, and their mall-seeking children.

With his trademark humor and his prose (such maddening prose, veering from beautiful and lyrical to stunted and awful) he undertakes an ambitious critique of America's political character as it developed in the 1980's, critiquing the legacy of the 1960s' social unrest ("Who was saved?") and the use of expanded law enforcement privileges such as RICO to surveil and repress the citizenry. He shows an American people estranged from its progressive history by television and low-quality work. At one point, a program undertaken to 'turn' left-wingers and re-educate them for the state's purposes is closed down for being unnecessary.

In Vineland, a fictitious California forest area near Eureka, we fade on an ambiguously happy scene, a sort of haven from the police state where values appropriated by the right, such as family life and neighborhood, are lived affectionately.

First, the plot is ridiculous. Pynchon is one politically pissed-off and paranoid dude. The result is that characters act as they should not; indeed, could not. Plenty of reviewers have made the point, however, that one doesn't read Pynchon for the plot. Well, why read him?

Because the writing is brilliant. I didn't care how the story ended. After tangent after segue after tangent and another morphing tangent, who could care. You either drop Pynchon after 50 pages or you hang on for the ride. Paragraphs and dialogue are thrown against the wall, pyrotechnics like abstract art. I was reminded of Rushdie, who also uses history, pop culture and the glory of words in a tapestry that soars above the need to be realistic, analytical or true.

Vineland by Thomas Pynchon is a novel set in California in 1984, with flashbacks to the 1960s and 1970s. It tells the story of several characters whose lives intersect against the backdrop of political upheaval in 20th-century America, with themes of family, fatherhood, the nature of history, and the consequences of past actions. The novel is known for its unique narrative style, complex web of interconnected storylines and characters and its commentary on American society, the nature of power and the way individuals respond to it through satire and irony. The book received mixed reviews on its release, some find it challenging to follow and heavy-handed on its satire, while others praise its complexity and thought-provoking commentary on politics and society.

I really hate the “Pynchon-lite” classification. Sure, the common gripe people have with this thing is that it’s not the mind-blowing encyclopedic trip we love from the guy, but he’s doing a different thing here.

Pynchon’s take on popular culture, family, and generational dynamics is just as brilliant as anything he’s ever done, and let’s face it, anything directly following GR (especially after such a long hiatus) was doomed in terms of critical reception. Not just for completists, this is one of Tommy’s best.

If patterns of ones and zeros were “like” patterns of human lives and deaths, if everything about an individual could be represented in a computer record by a long string of ones and zeros, then what kind of creature would be represented by a long string of lives and deaths? It would have to be up one level at least- an angel, a minor god, something in a UFO. It would take eight human lives and deaths just to form one character in this being’s name- its complete dossier might take up a considerable piece of the history of the world. We are digits in God’s computer…the only thing we’re good for, to be dead or to be living, is the only thing He sees. What we cry, what we contend for, in our world of toil and blood, it all lies beneath the notice of the hacker we call God.

the only thing i’m looking to get from the lectures about this thing is understanding

Abandoned at 50%. It started out interesting, but the author’s meandering writing became boring after awhile. It’s just not for me.

Thomas Pynchon ormai è saldamente collocato nel mio personale Olimpo degli scrittori. Adoro il suo stile, il suo incrociare i piani narrativi e i punti di vista della moltitudine dei personaggi, il suo sguardo tagliente e ironico che mira a scoprire il velo dorato e ipocrita della società e dei suoi ingranaggi. Così rimango incantata dal suo far cantare il flusso di coscienza della Storia, intessendo immagini auliche ad altre decisamente realistiche, grazie anche ad un sapiente intreccio di differenti registri linguistici.
Questo romanzo non è da meno, l’autore scava sotto la facciata altisonante di quella che era stata l’età della contestazione, mette sottilmente in luce le contraddizioni e il vuoto di valori che avrebbero profondamente contraddistinto l’epoca successiva, quella pop iconizzata da Warhol, quella dominata dalla divinità dei mass media e della televisione, quella dalla patina perfetta e sorridente che nascondeva il suo vero volto e le sue incoerenze.

Thomas Pynchon’s 1990 novel Vineland, gets a bit of a bad rep among Pynchon diehards. Personally I think it’s because the fans waited 1) 17 years for another novel by him and 2) expected something as momentous as 1973’s Gravity’s Rainbow.

Vineland is not momentous, in fact, it’s almost like a Goldsmiths level experimental novel. In other words, it’s pretty easy to follow and not as dense as his previous books. Plot-wise it’s pretty simple as well:

Out of work rock star, Zoyd Wheeler is commissioned by the TV addict inspector, Hector to find his AWOL wife, Frenesi. In the meantime his daughter Prairie, accompanied by her friend DL, is on same mission , however she wants to find out more about her mother.

As this is a Pynchon novel, the plot is taken up by flashbacks, side plots and a lot of other deviations but, as always, stick with it and it all makes sense. Through the past episodes, Pynchon is portraying a part of American history which is more idyllic and turned into a hotbed of paranoia, which still has it’s after affects to this day, namely through the over saturation of the media.

Vineland is definitely not Pynchon’s best novel. It is though, full of Pynchonian trademarks; the strange, symbolic names, some crazy scenes and memorable characters – psychic detectives! neo fascists! surfing wedding bands! and situations. It’s not as zany as his previous works but it is funnier and satirical. In a way Vineland could be seen as a precursor to Inherent Vice. Same shaggy dog plot and same message about good times gone bad but I think he did it better in IV. Plus the opening two chapters are absolutely brilliant, showing Pynchon at his most lucid.

Do I recommend Vineland? A Pynchon newbie should check it out, maybe even read it back to back with Inherent Vice. I saw it as a light read (by Pynchon standards) and it is fun. However if Gravity Rainbow is your thing just keep in mind that Vineland does not reach those heights.

Pynchon escribe dos tipos de novelas, unas de cientos de páginas, enormes en todos los sentidos, tanto en tamaño como en lo que abarcan, siendo todo un viaje a lo largo de diferentes épocas y momentos históricos; y después están las novelas con menos páginas, más ligeras aparentemente, donde se reconoce a un Pynchon más suelto, por llamarlo de alguna manera, más humorístico y divertido, sin faltar ese toque conspiratorio y paranoico. ‘Vineland’ pertenece a este segundo grupo.

La historia contada en ‘Vineland’ parece sencilla a priori. En el año 1984, en Vineland, Zoyd, imagen del típico hippie de los 60-70, y miembro de un grupo musical de lo más cutre, vive como puede realizando todo tipo de trabajos, pero sobre todo de los cheques que cobra del gobierno por incapacidad mental. Y es que entre las actividades de Zoyd, se encuentra la de atravesar las ventanas de todo tipo de negocios. Prairie, la hija de Zoyd, es una joven que fue abandonada por su madre cuando era un bebé, así que le toca vivir con su excéntrico padre, hasta que un día decide salir en busca de su madre. Por otro lado, Frenesí, la madre de Prairie, pertenecía a un grupo liberal, y se dedicaba a rodar películas con este trasfondo, siendo vigilados por ello por el FBI. Por si fuera poco, tenemos a LD, amiga de Frenesí, una americana que fue entrenada en el mundo ninja, escenas todas estás que, aunque anteriores en el tiempo, hacen pensar inevitablemente en las películas Kill Bill de Tarantino. Y también tenemos al malo de la novela, Brock Vond, un fiscal obsesionado con encontrar a Frenesí.

Todo esto, que contado así parece grotesco (ya se sabe lo difícil que es intentar contar de qué van las novelas de Pynchon), no es más que una burla, una caricatura de los años de Nixon, de los de Reagan, y de todo el movimiento hippie. Toda la novela está impregnada de referencias culturales, del cine, la televisión y la música.

‘Vineland’ no es de las novelas de Pynchon que más me han gustado, por ahora. Me quedo con su primera mitad y su humor socarrón y absurdo, porque la segunda mitad me parece demasiado alocada. Como siempre, me asombra la capacidad de Pynchon para dar explicación a diversos episodios que habías leído y que parecían una cosa cuando realmente eran otra bien distinta.

Everybody always told me Vineland was Pynchon’s worst effort - what? No way no how, brothers and sisters, this here is an endless DNA chain or like Russian doll of embedded story after story descending and re-emerging through various strata of narratorial layers, pop culture send-ups, genre parodies, all funny as hell and twisted and ridiculous while also extremely smart and painted with mind-tweaking flights down and up imaginative spiral staircases! And there’s so much heart in this book this old cold hombre almost teared up at certain moments. Worst Pynchon? - C’mon, this is his classic Saturday night drive-in camp flick, for the mentally agitated among us, to be paired generously with Inherent Vice, and a downright lovely & insane ode to mid-20th century American popular culture - get on it.