1 star for readers who require things like "plot" and "accessibility" in their books — silly readers!

2 stars for readers who just don't "get it".

3 stars for readers who probably also don't get it, but would rather not infuriate 1-star and 5-star readers by rating too low or too high.

4 stars for readers who value writing over narrative, plus more erections (both literal and figurative) than you can shake a stick at.

5 stars for TRUE masochists and/or readers who may just wish to appear hipper/smarter than they actually are.

I get all the criticisms this book receives, I really do, but I'm glad that it was written and I'm glad I got the chance to read it (thanks, Jenn). If writing is the ultimate act of self-pleasure, then this one certainly qualifies as masturbatory, but that's not necessarily such a bad thing and it's not as if I'd have room to talk anyway.

Still, if you gave me a box of pens and a box of tissues, and then locked me in a room with nothing else but skin mags and blank notebooks, I’d be lying if I told you that I’d run out of pens before tissues! The nice thing about writing is that you actually get to share it with other people when you’re done, which usually doesn’t go over so well with spent bodily fluids, but ideally you don’t want readers walking away from your book with the sneaking suspicion that they've just spent untold hours of their lives watching you masturbate.

Which I'm not sayin' Pynchon does; I'm just sayin'.

This is the story about Tyrone Slothrop, who was sent into the Zone to be present at his own assembly – perhaps, heavily paranoid voices have whispered, his time’s assembly – and there ought to be a punch line to it, but there isn’t.

There! I’ve made it easy for you! Reduced this monumental, paranoid journey into the nightmare territory of Europe at the end of World War II to a single, simple paragraph for easy consumption by the lazy reader who doesn’t feel ready to embark on such a strenuous voyage. I did it because I feel the need to justify my own struggle with the text and pretend I came out wiser at destination. But I lied!
There are no easy shortcuts, and there may not be a punch line because there are dozens of the damn things, cropping up at random in the most peculiar places, heard from the most grotesque voices.
So take a deep breath and jump into the fray! Draw your own conclusions! Praise or condemn the guide/author for the way the tour develops according to your heart’s content. He is probably smoking a joint somewhere, laughing and crying in equal measure for the fate of modern man.

“You didn’t really believe you’d be saved. Come, we all know who we are by now. No one was ever going to take the trouble to save you, old fellow ...”
There is no way out. Lie and wait, lie still and be quiet. Screaming holds against the sky. When it comes, will it come in darkness, or will it bring its own light? Will the light come before or after?

>>><<<>>><<<
here be spoilers! thread carefully from this point forward
>>><<<>>><<<

Death descends silently out of Heaven. Dante’s journey in the ‘Divine Comedy’ is turned upside down, the message from Heaven is sending Lt. Tyrone Slothrop on a wild chase through London in the winter of 1944, mapping the sites of V-2 strikes through the power of his ‘dowsing member’ . Various spy agencies in the city plot to use Slothrop’s peculiar talent as a method to predict where the next strike will land. It’s either a case of Pavlovian conditioning in Tyrone’s childhood, according to venal researcher Pointsman, or a statistical coincidence based on Poisson Distribution, according to Roger Mexico.

After V-day and a brief interlude on the French Riviera, where Slothrop is tasked with the study of V-2 engineering papers and where the surveillance by the spy agencies induce a rising feeling of paranoia, Slothrop decides to go AWOL and departs for the Zone : the territory of Germany immediately after surrender and before its division among Allies coagulates. There he hopes to find out the reason so many agents consider him a pivotal figure by investigating the sites where the Rocket was assembled, tested and launched.
This zone is the modern equivalent of Renaissance Hell, closer to the imagery of Hieronymus Bosch than Dante, and Slothrop lacks a wise guide to illuminate his path and keep him safe from the various demons he encounters. This waking nightmare is alternatively encyclopedic (technical, historical) , lyrical, pornographic, humorous in a slapstick and vulgar manner, metaphysical. In the Zone we will come across a high-class vivisectionist, a gigantic, horror-movie devilfish name of Gregory, candies that taste like horrible alkaloid desolation, sarcastic buffaloes, a Welshman with an accordion, hallucinogenic Hollandaise sauce, a stolen Nazi submarine filled with Argentinian anarchists, a rogue platoon of suicidal Namibian tribesmen, a ballooning enthusiast named Schnorp, a scrupulous butcher named von Trotha, fake Molotov cocktails filled with vodka, peculiar polymers with erectile properties, an undetectable synthetic drug that induces revelations of divinity  Oneirine theophosphate , ringworm relish and crotch custard served at a formal dinner, Looney Tunes characters and famous jazzmen in underground toilets.
Slothrop’s loneliness and his increasing alienation reflect the journey of self-discovery and the birth of the modern world that Pynchon hints at in my opening quote.

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So much for my attempt at a synopsis. Onward to style of presentation!

s’posed to be a hardboiled private eye here, gonna go out all alone and beat the odds, avenge my friend that They killed, get my ID back and find that piece of mystery hardware...

The basic noir/private detective plot is a useful simplification for the plot, one that is familiar from the other two Pynchon novels I’ve read: ‘Inherent Vice’ and ‘The Crying of Lot 49’ . Similarly, a simple investigation by a lone wolf character descends into paranoia as the quest morphs into a complex conspiracy with global ramifications. The search is more important than the actual mystery, as proven by the fluid nature of the target. From a map of the V-2 strikes in London to the mystery of Slothrop’s conditioning in childhood we proceed to look for Imipolex-G , a wonder polymer, then for a secret Rocket equipped with a doom device (S-Gerat) until, finally, we try to uncover a secret global organization that controls world affairs, referred in the text as ‘They’ .

“Listen,” Slothrop talking into his highball glass, bouncing words off of ice cubes so they’ll have a proper chill, “either I’m coming down with a little psychosis here, or something funny is going on, right?”

At the most basic level, this is the mythical story of the hero of a thousand faces, who goes on a quest and brings back wisdom to his home village. The Schwarzgerat is just another name for the Holy Grail (one of the images featured in the text) or the Fountain of Youth or a falcon statue made of gold. The hardboiled quest structure is one that Pynchon has developed and used throughout his opus. ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’, being his crown achievement, is probably the best field of study on how and why he does it.

The basic theory is, that when given an unstructured stimulus, some shapeless ‘blob’ of experience, the subject will seek to impose structure on it. How he goes about structuring this blob will reflect his needs, his hopes – will provide us with clues to his dreams, fantasies, the deepest regions of his mind.”

The quote comes from the behaviour researcher Pointsman, the one who graduates from testing Pavlovian reaction in dogs to a study of Slothrop’s psychology. The analogy he offers is that of a setting [situation, story, novel] that acts like a Rorschach test, challenging the patient / the reader to find meaning in chaos.

A more interesting theory, supported by the appearance of Charlie Parker improvising on the song ‘Cherokee’ in 1939, as seen in a wild dream of Slothrop while interned at ‘The White Visitation’, presents the novel as a revolutionary improvisation, postmodernism as trying to reach directly into the reader’s subconscious by altering the expected progression of plot and characterization.

He realized that the 12 semitones of the chromatic scale can lead melodically to any key, breaking some of the confines of simpler jazz soloing. [from wikipedia]

suppose we considered the war itself as a laboratory? when the V-2 hits, you see, first the blast, then the sound of its falling ... the normal order of the stimuli reversed that way ... so we might turn a particular corner, enter a certain street, and for no clear reason feel suddenly ...

Revelation is the name of the game, and this illumination is searched sometime in seances with the departed, Tarot cards, engineering plans or the smoking of joints. The presence of drugs in the Zone, the endless bacchanalia that goes on, is an integral part of the quest, of the attempt of enforcing a structure on the chaos left behind by the War. Time itself is a victim of the conflagration, illustrated by the insistence of cause before effect, as the Rocket hits before it is heard and by the repeated apparition in the text of the word ‘preterite’ , as in flotsam, discards, storm-tossed passengers thrown overboard from the ship of death ‘Anubis’, used to describe the survivors drifting among Zone ruins.

an adept at the difficult art of papyromancy, the ability to prophesy through contemplating the way people roll reefers – the shape, the licking pattern, the wrinkles and folds or absence thereof in the paper.

Saure, Seaman Bodine, Roger Mexico, Pirate Prentice and other occasional allies of Slothrop may lack his paranoia-driven insistence on finding answers, but they hold parts of the solution, like component bits of the ultimate Rocket about to be assembled. Together, they will come to be known as the Counterforce later in the novel. ( “They’re the rational ones. We piss on Their rational arrangements. Don’t we ... Mexico?” )

Survival seems, after all, only a matter of blind fortune groping through the heavy marbling of skies one Titanic-night at a time.

“The greatest breakthrough may come when we have the courage to junk cause-and-effect entirely, and strike off at some other angle.”

“There is no way for changes out there to produce changes here.”
“Not produce,” she tried, “not cause. It all goes along together. Parallel, not series. Metaphor. Signs and symptoms. Mapping on to different systems...”

That’s about it in terms of narrative structure

>>><<<>>><<<

Stay in the Zone long enough and you’ll start getting ideas about destiny yourself.

Preterite theory, the idea that Apocalypse already happened and we live in the world shaped by It, is one of the signs and symptoms used to map the journey of Slothrop. ( The War has been reconfiguring time and space into its own image.) The further he progresses into the Zone, the more the novel explores mystical, religious interpretations of the Rocket. The parabola of the rocket’s ascension beyond the pull of Earth’s gravity, into the Void, the Zero or the Aether of the unknown, only to fall down back in flames mirrors the flight of Icarus, or the distance between two lovers as they come together only to drift apart (Katja and Slothrop):

... it’s a curve each of them feels, unmistakably. It is the parabola. They must have guessed, once or twice – guessed and refused to believe – that everything, always, collectively, had been moving toward that purified shape latent in the sky, that shape of no surprise, no second chance, no return. Yet they do move forever under it, reserved for its own black-and-white bad news certainly as if it were the Rainbow, and they its children ...

Sex, usually with a deviant flavour, is ubiquitous in the text, a tool for control or a path to liberation, depending on the progress towards revelation by the players. Its vulgarity is not simply a way to shock the audience out of complacency, but another symbol, another metaphor for the Quest.

Katja understood the great airless arc as a clear allusion to certain secret lusts that drive the planet and herself, and Those who use her – over its peak and down, plunging, burning, towards a terminal orgasm ...

On the opposite side of the spectrum, rigid morality and public outcry against sinners are tools used by Them to keep us under control [see also modern political games that focus on ‘dirt’ instead of policy]. The same Katja is tasked to bring a recalcitrant British general into submission. This is the theory of Sado-anarchism, as offered by a fallen Tanatz:

“Ludwig, a little S and M never hurt anybody.”
“Why are we taught to feel reflexive shame whenever the subject comes up? Why will the Structure allow every other kind of sexual behaviour but that one? Because submission and dominance are resources it needs for its very survival. They cannot be wasted in private sex. In any kind of sex. It needs our submission so that it may remain in power. It needs our lusts after dominance so that it can co-opt us into its own power game. There is no joy in it, only power.”

One final image of a world built on Pavlovian principles is a description late in the book of Hund-Stadt, one of the new structures arisen in the Zone, where dogs who lost their owners create their own dystopian society, a xenophobia shaped by their earlier conditioning through propaganda:

They may be living entirely in the light of the one man-installed reflex: Kill the Stranger. There may be no way of distinguishing it from the other given quantities of their lives – from hunger or thirst or sex. For all they know, kill-the-stranger was born in them.

If trains are the image of Pavlovian predestination, vice and joy are the keys needed to unlock freedom:

Let them cry like cheated lovers,
Let their cries find only wind.
Trains are meant for night and ruin.
We are meant for song, and sin.

Which brings me to the numerous instances of song and dance numbers and the importance of their presence here. I’ve always considered Pynchon to be the modern Dante or Milton, using free verse instead of rhyme, but still benefiting from the highly polished word structure and evocative imagery, symbolism of poetry. Being modern and more than a touch subversive in his core belief, the reader can often find delight in the author’s grotesque sex play, the Looney Tunes anarchism and slapstick irreverence of the text.

There was a young man from Decatur,
Who slept with a LOX* generator.
His balls and prick
Froze solid real quick,
And his asshole a little bit later.

* liquid oxygen

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Parabola parable and the mandala of technology



The Serpent that announces, “The World is a closed thing, cyclical, resonant, eternally-returning,” is to be delivered into a system whose only aim is to violate the cycle. Taking and not giving back, demanding that “productivity” and “earnings” keep on increasing with time, the System removing from the rest of the World these vast quantities of energy to keep its own tiny desperate fraction showing a profit: and not only most of humanity – most of the World, animal, vegetable and mineral, is laid waste in the process.

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Damn, I run out of space ...
This was never going to fit within the wordcount allowed by Goodreads for a review. It is probably the longest review I ever tried, but I’m not trying to impress anyone with my erudition, I just want to put to rest the buzzing in my head produced by this wild novel, to justify somehow the slog of reading page after page of madcap adventure, the avalanche of metaphors and portents, to make it easier at a later time to remember what it was all about. Because I really don’t see myself re-reading this, no matter how rewarding and clarifying such a project would be. I have no problem calling it a masterpiece, but honestly, it is a flawed, self-indulgent and deliberately difficult ride.
So, the full review is still on Goodreads

full review

n  An Approach for Simulating Text Consistent With Gravity’s Rainbown  
n  
n  Technical Report issued 6 July 2012 by the Simulation Lab Originating Text-based Handiwork (SLOTH)n

While the exact algorithm used by Pynchon (1973) to produce Gravity’s Rainbow (henceforth GR) was never documented, we contend that the method proposed in this paper is, on average, in a repeated sampling context, observationally equivalent. As is true of any simulation, there is a deterministic component and a random component. Simulated paths will vary, but the statistical distributions from which the stochastic terms are sampled match those of GR. Our approach, as applied to text generation, is novel¹. It is, however, closely related to the methods employed by computer scientists in the so-called Markovian Mozart initiative². We begin by describing the basic structure, we then discuss our vision of the text generation process as it applies to GR, and conclude with final thoughts on how text simulation may be used going forward.

Simulation Structuring

Interest in random text generation appears to have begun with the famous, though untested, proposition that an infinite number of monkeys with infinite time at their keyboards would ultimately reproduce Shakespeare. Of course, pure randomness without some kind of structure is a highly inefficient path toward literary art. Plus, the process is just as likely to produce piggy porn as it is to emulate Pynchon (granting, for our purposes, that there is a distinction to be made).

The opposite side of the spectrum would be a well-defined set of sentences featuring blanks to fill in using a pre-chosen set of options. This was a style popularized by Mad Magazine³. Such an approach differs from ours in that their structure is more narrowly defined, allowing insufficient latitude to characterize the chaotic and disorienting nature of GR.

The input parameters to our simulation will, by default, result in 4 sections, 73 chapters, over 400 characters (mostly minor, wordplayfully named), and 776 pages, just as the original did. However, one of the advantages of a simulator is that the resulting length is configurable. We are also careful to specify stylistic breakdowns that may enter in a probabilistically identical way. The sampling ranges extend from ridiculous to sublime in one dimension and vulgar to sublime in another. By applying noise terms to the narrative, comprehension will vary throughout.

Text Generating Process

The backbone of our simulation structure is established in the initial step. We specify a superset of core influences which are drawn upon by the random text extractor in accordance with user-supplied probability weights. This superset, A, is defined by

A ⊂ (WWII Historical Almanac, V-2 Rocket Technical Manual, Pavlovian Psychology [loaded in backwards], German-English Dictionary, Freud’s Comprehensive List of Phallic Symbols, phrasebooks for various romance languages, Anthology of Daft ‘n’ Bawdy Poetry, Urban Thesaurus [1945 edition], Guidebook to Pharmacology, Introduction to Tarot Symbolism, Applications in Multivariate Calculus and Differential Equations, a short book of surprisingly tender love stories, a longer book of genuinely raunchy lust stories, and an assortment of engineering textbooks)

Text drawn probabilistically from A serves as our starting point, S1. The next step is to intersperse small elements of plot into S1 with insertion points determined by a Poisson distribution. Specify

f(k, λ) = λ^k ⋅ exp(-λ) / k!

where k is the number of insertion points for each sub-block of S1, ! denotes factorial, and λ is the mean inclusion rate (λ > 0, but not by much)

The storyline to be parsed and inserted as indicated above is presented (by us and by Pynchon) in skeletal form. The Merriam-Webster Encyclopedia of Literature sums it up well⁴.

The sprawling narrative comprises numerous threads having to do either directly or tangentially with the secret development and deployment of a rocket by the Nazis near the end of World War II. Lieutenant Tyrone Slothrop is an American working for Allied Intelligence in London. Agents of the Firm, a clandestine military organization, are investigating an apparent connection between Slothrop's erections and the targeting of incoming V-2 rockets. As a child, Slothrop was the subject of experiments conducted by a Harvard professor who is now a Nazi rocket scientist. Slothrop's quest for the truth behind these implications leads him on a nightmarish journey of either historic discovery or profound paranoia, depending on his own and the reader's interpretation.

As a work in the postmodernist tradition, nonlinearity must be actuated. At no point may the plot as a function of time (P[t]) be twice differentiable, and only rarely may it be first-order differentiable. Flashbacks, digressions, and various other discontinuities must be introduced as P[t] is inserted into S1. In a related way, causal orderings must be distorted for a more authentic Pynchonian narrative. Specify

Cause ⇔ Effect +/- δt

where δt = α + β⋅δJ + σ⋅δz with J being a jump parameter; δz being Gaussian (not DeLillovian) white noise; and α, β ‘n’ σ being user-defined constants.

Once the plot convolutions specified above are inserted, resulting in S2, various themes may be brought to bear. Seminal reviews by Penkevich (2012), Jenn(ifer) (2012), and Graye (2012) discuss a wide variety of these themes and should serve as the basis for the next stage of textual input. The motifs identified form a set B ⊂ (Nature of Control, Paranoia, Preterite vs. Elite, Us vs. Them, etc.). Sampling from B proceeds in the same manner described above for A, i.e., according to the probability weights defined by the user. We denote the result of this as S3.

Authorial insights into human nature are treated in a similar way. However, lists constructed using the aforementioned reviews feature insights of the reviewers themselves. This, in essence, removes layers of obfuscation so that transformations are necessary to reconstruct the more muddled original set. This is achieved by adding random perturbations and mapping the results into Hilbert space. Draws from this set of transformed and re-adumbrated insights inserted into S3 give us S4.

Stylistic modifications to S4 are important when attempting to simulate the GR experience. For one, the narration should vary depending on the POV character. Allow average words per sentence in certain randomly chosen sections to be fully three times greater than the overall average. A smaller but consistently applied transformation is to take a common four-letter word and substitute in a three-letter alternative that, for what it’s worth, is phonetically more correct. For Pynchon, this meant “says” → “sez”. The result of these modifications is denoted S5.

A GR simulation would not be complete without one further stylistic “enhancement”. Any vanilla sex scenes within S5 may be replaced with random draws from Y. Denote:

U := incidence of urolagnia
C := incidence of coprophagia
K := incidence of kinkiness of any other form

We can then specify

Y=U⋅C⋅K!

Finally, the result of this last modification, S₆, should be submitted to voice recognition software and compared with Pynchon’s own voice. Any wavelets that differ by more than 2 σ should then be truncated within S₆ to create S7. It is our contention that S7 will be a lexically similar rendition of the original when the default values of the parameter inputs are chosen. Alternatively, our framework also allows customization such that GR may be generated with a twist. Options along these lines are discussed in the final section below.

Prospects Going Forward

Pynchon’s well-known penchant for formulaic detail coupled with random noise makes GR a natural vehicle for demonstrating our methods. As stated above, by choosing the relevant inputs and their GR-consistent probability values, a book very much like GR may be generated. By repeating the process, multiple instances may be constructed. With sufficient computing power, these multiple instances can be fed into a genetic algorithm to determine an “optimal” GR (where optimality is defined in terms of individual tastes). For instance, by dialing down the weight assigned to silly poems in the initial stage, one could generate a new GR of even greater ponderousness and density. Similarly, length settings may be varied. A GR sampler could be generated that is only a fraction of the original length. Or for the show-off readers out there looking for even greater challenges, a simulated version that doubles the length and halves the signal-to-noise ratio could be produced.

Of course, our methodology may be applied to simulate any piece of writing⁵. Hybridization is also possible. For instance, if the inputs for David Morrell’s First Blood were combined with those for GR, setting it in Vietnam, and substituting in violence for half the sex scenes, something like Gravity’s Rambo would result. Hybrids that do not involve GR are also possible. Inputs from classic works by Margaret Mitchell and Haruki Murakami could be combined to create Gone with the Wind-up Bird Chronicles. The key to performing these simulations well is to draw on the astute observations of reviewers for synopses, insights ‘n’ context. We encourage readers to generate these important inputs to spectrally enrich and parabolically ground all further text simulation exercises.

The code used to generate simulated versions of GR is available upon request: SLOTH, Simplatz 00001, The Zone.


Endnotes

¹As a further demonstration of our techniques, we invoked a random pun generator in the construction of this paper.

²Their simulation involves inputting all published works of a composer such as Mozart, codifying tones, tempos, and dynamics to be used in pattern recognition software that then assigns probabilities used to generate subsequent notes. For example, if the previous measure consisted of four quarter notes with the pattern E E F G, the algorithm would scan the entire sample of the composer’s works for similar patterns as well as the notes that had followed. It may then be determined that there is a 31% probability that a quarter note G will be next, a 14% probability that it will be a quarter note E, and so on. This is then fed into the simulator to randomly determine the next note consistent with the probabilities. The newly generated note pattern would then be windowed and used in an iterative fashion to determine all subsequent notes.

³An example might be to choose words or phrases to construct a political speech: My opponent is a (Republican, Democrat, cretin) and is therefore given to (flip-flopping, demagoguery, pleasuring male goats). In contrast to him, I vow to support (education, the environment, the people, bridges to nowhere only when the quid is sufficiently pro quo).

⁴While it is only right to recognize Greg (2010) for the brevity and pith of his plot summary, it did not allow us to specify a P[t] function to highlight the nonlinearity w.r.t. time.

⁵This write-up itself was generated through simulation – a kind of meta-feature of what amounts to postmodernistic content formulation.


References

Graye, Ian, 2012, Goodreads  Review of Gravity’s Rainbow.

Greg, 2010, Goodreads  Review of Gravity’s Rainbow.

Jenn(ifer), 2012, Goodreads  Review of Gravity’s Rainbow.

Morrell, David, 1972, First Blood, Grand Central Publishing, New York, NY.

Penkevich, S., 2012, Goodreads  Review of Gravity’s Rainbow.

Pynchon, Thomas, 1973, Gravity’s Rainbow, Penguin Books, New York, NY.


Appendix A

Our rating of the original GR instance, as published by Pynchon, was derived by integrating across a uniformly distributed utility function, U(x,y). The limits of integration in the x dimension range from boring to funny; in the y dimension they range from obscure to profound.

∫ ∫ U(x,y) dx dy = ★★★

Appendix B

The following poem was generated using the simulation techniques described above. The primary input was a single page of a rhyming dictionary. A secondary input was utilized as well: The Low-Brow’s Guide to Self-Indulgence. It was meant to convey a reader’s reaction at the midway point of the GR endeavor.


I had hoped to attain
Or at the very least feign
A good stretch of the brain
With this GR campaign.

But it’s awfully arcane
And though I hate to complain
It's become a real strain.
I’m not sure I’ll stay sane.

Yet I cannot abstain
Despite genuine pain.

Besides,

Can it be the worst bane?
A skull full of Chow mein?

„Now everybody-“

Postmodernizam je za mene bauk. Em što je težak (a ne tako, što bi Englezi rekli, rewarding), em što je meni lično dosta pretenciozan kao književni pravac. Zašto je onda ovo jedan od boljih romana koje sam pročitao, uz puno muke doduše (bez muke nema ni nauke) i čitavih šest meseci čitanja, a Pinčon jedan od boljih pisaca sa kojim sam se upoznao? Zato što je on postmodernista koji svesno parodira postmodernizam, i to ga čini neuporedivo zabavnijim, zanimljivijim, i bližim autorom od njegovih kolega (Nabokov je takodje izuzetak). E sad, koliko je moje razumevanje pouzdano govori i to da mi neko potpiše da sam razumeo svega 30% sadržine romana, ja bih bio jedan jako srećan čovek. Slojevita knjiga, koja zahteva više čitanja.

Ovo čudo od romana, bavi se poznim WW2 i to na, ubedjen sam, sasvim jedinstven način. Pinčon ne koristi tragediju i sentiment kako bi razgalio čitaoca i izvukao neke njegove emocije, on ne piše o logorima i leševima i ratnim zločinima, već o običnom čoveku, o promeni morala i o činjenici da se niko ne venčava za vreme Rata. Za njega, a i za mene, još pre upoznavanja sa ovom devetsto strana dugom knjigom, WW2 ili samo Rat, kamen je spoticanja ljudske rase, možda i nepovratnog. Od Rata, pitanje “Zašto?” izgubilo je svaki smisao.

A šta je sama Raketa, beli kit (Mobi Dik je idealno štivo kompanjon ovog romana) Duge Gravitacije, to je pitanje koje od svakog čitaoca traži drugačiji odgovor. Za mene, ona predstavlja samo odraz novog sveta, metamorfozu kolektivnog nesvesnog, simbol iskrivljenosti i nešto što leti... I što još nije sletelo.

(Ispod su neki moji hronološki utisci posle svakog dela, sigurno predugački, možda spojlerasti. Ko voli, nek’ izvoli.)


I - Beyond the Zero
„Nature does not know extinction; all it knows is transformation. Everything science has taught me, and continues to teach me, strengthens my belief in the continuity of our spiritual existence after death.“ –Wernher Von Braun(inace čika odgovoran za te V2 rakete, ključne za roman)

Jedna od odlika Pinčonovog stila je ta što on ne piše o ljudima: njegovi pravi protagonisti su pojave, a ljudi samo nekakav kanal, posrednik, preko kojih se on njima bavi. Te pojave (u V ih naziva Velikim Silama) u Dugi Gravitacije (za sad) su: Rat, Ljubav, Nauka, Čovečnost, Razvrat. Ističe se Rat kao ključan, kao nešto što je otvorilo vrata ka promeni, nešto što je iskrivilo samu koncepciju sveta. Desetine likova i njihova čudna razmišljanja, gadne navike i hardkor fetiši (da, svako ima bar po jedan) ovde su prikazani kao direktna posledica Rata, velikog Rata koji je stvarno promenio sve (misli se na WW2), usput počupavši korenje.

Vrlo bitna tema je i Pavlovljev refleks, ovde prisutan u mikro značenju, primenjen na životinjama ili na ljudima, ali i makro značenju: Pavlovljev refleks čitavog čovečanstva koji zadire iza te nule (ostaci refleksa čak i nakon „odvikavanja“) koja i nosi ime ovog dela romana.

Mislim da se ceo prvi deo da opisati kroz pitanje koje postavlja jedan nacista: Is God really Jewish? Opšti haos i ludilo gde se ne zna ko je gori, ko je ludji (osim Džesike i Rodžera <3).

II - Un Perm' au Casino Hermann Goering
„You will have the tallest, darkest leading man in Hollywood.“ -Merian C. Cooper to Fay Wray

Korak po korak, mic po mic.

Ovaj deo je daleko koherentniji i narativno stabilniji od prvog, iako to sve i dalje podseća na niz uzastopnih apsurdnih snova usled dugoročne konzumacije teških halucinogenih droga. Slotrop (ahem, leading man, ahem), ovde je apsolutni fokus, uz neke omanje epizodice članova jedne od mali milion institucija tj. organizacija u romanu. Doduše, ovi jesu iz glavne (nešto kao Bond zlikovci koji samo hoće da spasu svet, a u stvari su naučnici... koji se bave ezoteričnim stvarima poput duhova i jelte sasvim logične povezanosti seksa i oktopoda), na neki način zavereničke, čiji je štab simpatično nazvan "The White Visitation" tako da taman dovoljno podseća na ludaru. Postavljaju se ovde mnoga pitanja, na koja Pinčon verovatno neće ni odgovoriti, jer bože, zašto bi. Daju se i poneki odgovori, ali više se unosi sumnja u to ko ovde koga vuče za nos i da li je moguće da su svi ludi ili je to samo dejstvo Rata? Rat guši i krivi čak i prostorvreme, sve podleže njegovom uticaju.

Slotrop, neko ko u ovom delu ispunjava ulogu protagoniste, i dalje je začudjujuće prazno okarakterisan i ostaje sasvim u funkciji nekih motiva kojima se Pinčon bavi. Nisam siguran koliko mi se to dopada, pošto baš volim da navijam za likove, a Slotrop je manjeviše prazan list po kome svi ostali crtaju. Uz to, čovek je i težak paranoik, pa je sve što se dogadja vrlo, vrlo klimavo. Ali i zabavno. Ima tu jedna tenk sekvenca koja je očito bila i Kusturici vrlo upečatljiva.

Sad sledi sledeći deo, za koji će mi trebati još nekih četiri do pet do šest do sedam meseci.

III - In The Zone
„Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore...” –Dorothy, arriving in Oz

Glavni deo romana od čak četristo stranica (!), posle koga mogu samo da skinem zamišljenu kapu i viknem au.

Ovako nešto ludo, razuzdano, perverzno, umobolno, potresno i, naravno, sasvim moguće, čita se jednom u životu. Pinčon spaja prethodno, činilo se nasumično, predstavljene likove i niti priče u jednu celinu koja konačno ima smisla, na isti onaj besmisleni, pinčonovski način kao i do sada.
Zona, odnosno Nemačka neposredno po kapitulaciji nacista, postala je središte još uzavrelijeg konflikta izmedju raznoraznih strana koje ne gaje nikakve ideološke vrednosti i vodjeni su ličnim, sebičnim, a opet nadrealnim kosmičkim načelima. Potraga za famoznom raketom simbol je simbola simbola: a ipak, to je samo potraga za raketom. Izbeglice (ima i nas!), mazohisti i sadisti i ostali psihološki bolesnici, usamljene devojčice koje po šablonu padaju na Slotropov imaginarni šarm, tradicionalno poremećene seksualne prakse koje izazivaju istovremeno i smeh i mučninu. Ne zna čovek da li da se smeje ili da plače u tom, oko sto strana (ravnom dakle četvrtini), delu treće knjige koji se u suštini čita kao crna, crnja, najcrnja erotika.

Ističu se sukob Enziana i Čičerina, sve oko broda Anubis i najduža epizoda celog romana o naučniku Pokleru, priča podjednako tužna koliko i ratna.

Za kraj, mogu da utvrdim da ipak Pinčonovi likovi imaju identitet i da nisu isključivo u službi motiva kojim se roman bavi: ali njihovi karakteri toliko su suptilno (i divno) nacrtani da se mogu primetiti tek posle, evo, sedamsto i nešto strana.

IV – The Counterforce
„What?“ –Richard Nixon

Oni protiv Nas, i kraj, koji me podseća na završnicu Aberkrombijevog Prvog Zakona, iako je to na neki način kao da poredim babe i žabe - zvuče isto, ali tu se svaka sličnost završava (doduše, iskustva iz meni omiljenog gradskog prevoza se baš ne slažu sa tim, ali šta sad). Medjutim, tu su male pobede, kao da je običnom čoveku dosta i, kada je već jedini pobednik Rata sam Rat, on pronalazi odredjeno zadovoljstvo u tim sitnim trijumfima, u tom miru što ga čeka na kraju puta, i on više ne luta... I nada se da neće završiti u gradu Raketa.


5+

"Si, amico mio, rifornito di carburante, vivo, pronto a essere lanciato... alto quindici metri, vibrante... e poi quel ruggito fantastico, virile, capace quasi di far scoppiare i timpani. Duro, crudele, pronto a penetrare i veli verginali del cielo blu. Oh, davvero fallico, non trova?"

Quando da lettore supponi di aver già letto il libro più stravagante possibile, ecco che ti imbatti in un altro che sposta più in là il limite di ciò che la letteratura può creare ma anche il limite di ciò che potresti mai immaginare. Per la mia esperienza, "L'Arcobaleno della Gravità" è stato uno di essi. Ci ho impiegato quattro mesi, sono partita in quarta, una salita piena di energie, ma a un certo punto i motori si sono spenti e ho attraversato una fase in stallo, rallentata e in declino, per poi riprendere velocità e scendere in picchiata, fino ad arrivare al bersaglio, alla fine. Un po' come la parabola che il Razzo compie dal lancio alla caduta. E' un libro folle, assurdo, paranoico-ossessivo, erotico in una maniera esagerata, fumettistico e caricaturale, comico, a ritmo di musica, metamorfico, enciclopedico, tragico...e potrei continuare all'infinito con gli aggettivi.

Sua Maesta il Razzo! Il Rivelatore! E' lui il protagonista assoluto di questa opera, assieme a Tyron Slothrop, condizionato da esso attraverso un esperimento pavloviano: ad ogni erezione di Slothrop corrisponde un nuovo lancio del Razzo V2 che ha come bersaglio proprio la zona in cui l'atto sessuale avviene. Lui però ne è all'oscuro, non sa di essere studiato dalle varie istituzioni belliche ma presto lo sospetterà e la sua fuga alla ricerca della verità lo porterà ad attraversare parecchie peripezie dalle più assurde. L'assurdità è amplificata non solo dalle bizzarre situazioni (come per esempio la "battaglia" a torte in faccia tra Slothrop che vola su una mongolfiera e Marvy che gli da la caccia su un piccolo aereo) ma anche dalla paranoia di un complotto di cui Slothrop cade preda. Intorno, una moltitudine di personaggi e miriadi di storie, ma il tutto ben intrecciato e gestito da Pynchon. Il Razzo simboleggia la Guerra, infatti il libro è ambientato nell'ultimo periodo dell seconda guerra mondiale e offre il suo punto di vista: la Guerra e una situazione in cui il Mondo si trova in continuazione, non cessa mai, a volte ha dei picchi (le guerre vere e proprie come le conosciamo noi) ma spesso è latente e uccide solo le persone "giuste". La politica è un pretesto di facciata, un teatrino, le guerre sono determinate dagli interessi delle macroeconomie, dalla tecnologia, e rappresentano un forte momento di sviluppo per loro a discapito dell'uomo che è solo il loro carburante, "carne da cannone" per citare Tolstoj:

"la verità è che la Guerra mantiene le cose in vita. Le cose. Tra cui le Ford. La storia dei tedeschi e dei giapponesi è stata solo una versione - piuttosto surreale- della Guerra vera. La Guerra vera esiste sempre. Il numero delle morti diminuisce di tanto in tanto, ma la Guerra continua a uccidere un sacco di persone. Solo che adesso le uccide in modo più sottile, spesso troppo complicato."

Questa complessa macchina della guerra, basata sulla divisione e mai sull'unione, è gestita da "Loro", un Sistema circolare vorace che si nutre di risorse in continuazione e in modo sempre più veloce, sempre più affamato e ghiotto di armi come di cibo e che continuerà a prendere, a prendere, e a sfruttare tutto finché non ci sarà più niente, prende senza dare nulla in cambio, nemmeno la protezione e verrà un giorno in cui non ci sarà più nulla da prendere...a meno che, non crediamo che Loro possano morire, che questo Sistema verrà demolito:

"Credere che ognuno di Loro morirà davvero, personalmente, vuol dire altresì credere che il Loro sistema morirà- che esiste ancora nella Storia una dialettica, una possibilità di rinnovamento. Affermare la mortalità della loro natura vuol dire affermare il Ritorno."

Questo concetto viene rafforzato anche dal modo simbolico in cui Pynchon lo rappresenta, gli attribuisce una valenza biblica, ma non paradisiaca, ovviamente ma demoniaca: Il Sistema viene nominato come il Serpente che questa volta non porge più una semplice mela della conoscenza del bene e del male ma l'invenzione e l'accessibilità di nuove particelle fatali, un Serpente che vuole cacciare l'uomo anche da questo Eden che noi chiamiamo Terra e lo ammaglia con la sua furbizia. Anche il Razzo stesso viene presentato come "Il Rivelatore", un Anticristo:

"Il Razzo viene sotto le spoglie del Rivelatore. Ci mostra che nessuna società è in grado di proteggere, non lo è mai stata - le società sono assurdi come scudi di carta (...). Loro ci hanno mentito. Non possono impedirci di morire, per cui ci mentono a proposito della morte. Il Loro è un castello di menzogne, costruito in cooperazione.(...). Non possiamo più credere in Loro. Per lo meno, se siamo ancora sani di mente e se amiamo la verità."

Prima ho detto che è anche il libro più erotico che abbia mai letto: si tratta di un erotismo diverso dal solito, ci sono rapporti disgustosi, incesti, pedofili nei confronti dei quali Hummert Humbert è un novellino a cui inizia solo ora a crescere la barba (vedi la scena tra Slothrop e Bianca oppure l'incesto tra Ilse e Pokler), orgie che sembrano uscite dai più spaventosi quadri di giudizi universali (vedi l'orgia sulla nave Anubis). Qualcuno, leggendo alcuni passi potrebbe pensare: ma era proprio necessaria questa descrizione?! Si, lo era, perché coerente con il Sistema che per sopravvivere ha bisogno di dominio e sottomissione:

"Ebbene, perché instillano in noi un riflesso automatico, facendoci provare un senso di vergogna non appena si tocca l'argomento? Perché la Struttura consente tutti gli altri comportamenti sessuali tranne questo? Perché la sottomissione e il dominio sono le risorse di cui la Struttura ha bisogno per la propria sopravvivenza. Non si possono sprecare in un atto sessuale qualsiasi. La Struttura ha bisogno della nostra sottomissione per poter restare al potere. Ha bisogno delle nostre brame di dominio per cooptarci nel suo gioco di potere. In essa non vi è nessuna gioia , soltanto il potere puro e semplice."

I citati che ho riportato sopra hanno il tono fermo, serio e rappresentano uno sguardo tagliente, osservatore, ma la prosa è in continua metamorfosi dove si alternano le scene ilari e dalla fantasia più estrema, ad altre disgustose, paranoiche, o super tecniche, mi piacerebbe postare qualche frammento birichino di Pynchon ma preferisco trattenermi e lasciarvelo scoprire a voi se mai lo vorrete leggere, perché ha poche mezze misure e non vorrei urtare la sensibilità altrui. Mitica la scena del tuffo di Slothrop nella tazza del water a recuperare la sua armonica, che riuscirà per davvero a recuperare nel finale del libro, trovata al suo rientro dalla Zona, oppure la disquisizione musicale tra Rossini e Beethoven di Gustav e Saure- papyromante che leggeva il futuro nelle cartine e nel fumo delle canne, gli inseguimenti cinematografici di Marvy su Slothrop che , karma vuole, viene scambiato per lui trovandosi nel posto sbagliato nel momento sbagliato e nel costume sbagliato (da maiale appartenente a Slothrop) e che viene castrato erroneamente, Slothrop travestito da maiale che insegue la scrofa Greta e che quasi quasi ci fa pure un pensierino malizioso, la storia dei lemming e dei maiali di William Slothrop, antenato di Tyron, insomma tantissimi piccoli universi ma che non sono mai fini a se stessi perché nella parte finale il tutto si riprende chiudendo il cerchio. Il finale è meraviglioso, una metafora della vita umana e di tutto quello che è stato espresso nel libro:

"Questa ascesa sarà tradita e consegnata alla Forza di Gravità. Ma il motore del Razzo, il grido profondo della combustione che lacera l'anima, promette la fuga. La vittima, inchiodata alla caduta, si alza su una promessa, una profezia di Fuga..."

Un libro diverso da tutto quanto ho letto fin'ora, che sconforta ma fa anche vedere le stelle, buchi nel corpo di Dio in cui noi infilziamo i nostri desideri.

If anyone has been wondering why I haven't posted on goodreads in three weeks you can pretty much blame this book. About three pages into it I realized that this was not one I was going to be able to fly through and actually follow. The book is kind of dropped into the setting of WW2, and by that I mean it sort of floats into/on top of this setting in a fairly lucid way. The book features a ramshackle of verses and prose and what could be termed as songs if only we knew the melody. Though we could at least conjecture that the melody would be dark and highly cynically humorous. Many of the passages are funny, many are just touching at funny, and there are a good number of passages that that humor is irritating and grating in a way that makes you laugh while hating them. Slothtrops character seems to undergo the most change/experiences throughout the work. The drug induced haze that blankets the middle of this book lends to a surprising amount of characters and sub plots. The ending was actually kind of fabulous, the completion of the rocket metaphor well grounded. Yet I still hate this book. I really do. The whole "post modern" thing really isn't my scene. Frankly I don't like post modern art in general, and if this is considered post modern literature I say dump it. It's not that I don't "get it" its more that I get it and am repulsed. Then you say well that was the point! You were supposed to feel repulsed and jaded and "human" as they call it.

To this I say: When did our idea of humanity become so twisted? When did pornographic, phallic, masturbatory, pedophilia become acceptable? Why should I want to read something that touches on the absolute basest forms of living as a human? So drawn by the whims of the world. So disenchanted. So detached from actual human experience? This book simply leaches on our most carnal natures and sets it on a pedestal to say, hey look at death. Lets mock it! Lets find every way possible to entwine the idea of death with some twisted sexual fantasy. To this you reply that it is better than being an automaton. At least we can FEEL something in this world Pynchon has created. It's better than eeking out our existence by setting one foot towards work and the other towards home without ever actually experiencing anything.

To this I add: Why do we need drugs to experience something real? Why do we have to enhance or chemically boost our bodies to some ridiculous extreme to FEEL. Why is it only poignant when someone dies? We have truly become less if this is what we need to experience more.

I hate this book. I really do. The writing is deranged yet fabulous. But the content is gross. You want me to understand the baseness of humanity? You want me to understand the cruelty and perversity of this world? You want me to feel what its like to be in the mind of people who only take from society and kill because their hearts are shallow? Because why? Because this book is part of pop culture? Because it is frequently referenced? Because it is a modern "Classic"? Bullshit. I am sorry there is too much swearing in this book already and I am adding to it. There are too many bad images, too many things you don't want to see and don't want to know about what people think. The truth of the matter is I know this is how people can be. I know this is how humans can act, think,and perceive the world. I frankly choose a different world. I chose a humanity that looks death straight in the face, instead of glancing at it from the side. I choose a humanity that builds up instead of bombing the shit out of everything. I chose a humanity that cares about freaking humanity. That loves, gives, and actually does something with itself. I chose to dump the selfish egotistical nostalgic nonsense that we have created and look for something more out of life. I chose to hate this book, and the fact that I can chose is in my mind at least a small part of what it means to be human.

GR is a cult rite of passage. You have literary aspirations? Want a literary badge of honour? Voila. Expire Perspire aspire on this. So the bon ton do. And having circumnavigated this literary Everest, victorious, but a little delirious and oxygen deprived, the finish liners now take positions for a whole new battle. The Battle of the Bulge, PoMo style. The trenches are drawn, and to the left of the house we have the Disbelievers, the Lost, the ones who just ‘don’t get it’. To the right: the righteous Chosen who have seen the pot of gold at the end of the Rainbow. And both sides have something to say: never have I see such ferment over a book on the web as this: people in binary arms, blogging to an impervious Ethernet, sometimes with a following but mostly alone in their blog code, pontificating, explaining, justifying, redeeming, reliving, applying, parsing.....shaking a fist at the heavens and reliving this monumental journey. Why do they do it? These hundreds of blog voices out there, with no one to hear.....But the pitch has fervored me: mob rule and all that. (funny that: mob rule where the mob online is millions of silos. But memetic ones. Go figure. Astral projection?). Well, they we do it because of entitlement rights. You know, first you sow (which is never easy), then you reap. Its reaping time. Anyone who has made this journey deserves a voice. Even if that bloomin’ tree falls where no one can hear it.

So now I have something to say as well. Which is: my crop failed. I’m going hungry this winter. In like I planted poppy seeds but I realise I needed wheat after all. Cause I’ve been having poppy seed bonanzas for a long time now and I’m peaking: I’m dead hungry and Gravitys Rainbow is just a’ ghost in the machine’.

To begin somewhere, I call my 13 year old niece to the stand. I thought to introduce her to classic films a year ago, in order that she builds a ‘repertoire’ of cultural significa as she goes along. So, Hitchcock’s ‘Psycho’ it was. Deemed an 18 certificate, but hey: how about I take on the role of ‘risque’ aunt? This girl laughed. ‘But, its where it all started’, I protested, still coiled with the unbound tension of a twenty year hiatus in horror. ‘For you’, she replied, and instantaneously I was a fossil. Not a daredevil of cultural insights.

Same here. If you are an experimental 70s virgin, and you chance on this: it might work.

I say 70s, because here is an era which stamped and oeuvre, which defined a movement (no prunes involved), which parralleloparametered an expressiveness which earned a trademark and it is then: give or take a few years. This stretch of mid sixties to mid eighties: it has its own musk. I’ve read enough now to recognise its distinct quaff a mile away. Frenetic stylistic posturing, sometimes levied by precise historical qualia, fragmented and proud, discombobulated and victorious about it, linguistic conundrums and stylistics perforations postulating as streams of supercalifragilisticexpialidousnesness, give me a text I’ll give you a time line!

Have I not read Hod Broun, Steve Katz, John Brunner, David Ohle, Virgil Pinera, Mano, Topor, Enard, John Hawkes, Vonegutt, Hellerman and Jaroslav Hasek, the latter two not 70s but feeders into Pynchon just the same, Kavan, Delany, etc ad nauseam. Hell, even the Good Soldier Sveik is one step too far.

After all of this, how is one to ’discover’ Gravity’s Rainbow? My ‘Psycho’ of PoMo. Faugh! I’ve been robbed! Too late to the ball for a good time.

Έχει αλλάξει, βέβαια, κ ακόμα αλλάζει, μαδάει το άλμπατρος της προσωπικότητας του που κ που, τεμπελικα , ασυνείδητα, όπως σκαλίζει τη μύτη του - αλλά το φτερό που πάντα αγγίζουν τα δάχτυλα του είναι η Αμερική. Ο καημενος , ο μαλακας , δεν μπορεί να τη βγάλει από πάνω του. Του ψιθυρίζει 'αγάπα με' στον ύπνο του, κ όταν είναι ξύπνιος ξελογιαζει αχόρταγα την προσοχή του με πλάνες σκέψεις κ απίστευτες υποσχέσεις. Μια μέρα - τη βλέπει αυτή την μέρα - ίσως να μπορέσει να της πει 'συγγνώμη' κ να την αφήσει.... αλλά όχι ακόμα

3.5/5

What the hell sure

Las imposibilidades expresivas del lenguaje se presentan en todo momento. El más engorroso de estos, creo yo, es a la hora de tratar de expresar lo que uno siente y que el otro logre comprender este sentimiento. ¿Cómo puedo poner en palabras lo que causó en mi interior este libro a lo largo de 6 meses de lectura para que tú, hipotético lector, logres comprender una parte de lo que significa para mi persona esta obra? Este será un intento de, y no una reseña como plantea el formato.
La llegada de Pynchon a mi vida supuso un cambio. Un cambio a mi forma de leer, a mi percepción de la literatura y sus posibilidades. A las posibilidades de la narrativa se suma otra: la del lenguaje. Así también, una parte de mi visión sobre el mundo también cambió. ¿Qué tendrá más poder para transformar la percepción que el arte?

Ahora, ¿de qué trata este libro? Trata sobre toda la segunda mitad del siglo XX y nuestros días. Pynchon escribe una obra inmensa, soberbia e inclasificable. Una novela que llega al mundo durante la era Nixon. Una Norte América post Vietnam, post asesinado de Kennedy desorientada, donde la paranoia toma un nuevo rumbo en las vidas de los ciudadanos, porque luego de este hecho se disparó un pico de teorías conspirativas que buscaban darle un sentido a este hecho catastrófico que fue el asesinato de un presidente. Pero la novela no trata explicitamente sobre Kennedy (a pesar de que se hace mención de él, ya que el protagonista, Tyrone Slothrop fue compañero de clases en Harvard durante la estadía de Kennedy en Inglaterra ya que su padre, Joseph P. Kennedy, fue embajador de Estados Unidos en Londres), sino que plantea mucho más de lo que voy a poder abarcar en un pequeño post.

"Esto significa que esta guerra jamás fue política. Las políticas son un teatro para distraer a la gente de las necesidades de los mercados y la tecnología." La revelación del funcionamiento de la maquinaria termina de destrozar a uno de los centenares de personajes que componen la novela. Porque la guerra no fue más que eso: una pantomima para ocultar la Máquina que nos consume.
Pynchon no entra en de lleno en discusiones sobre nazismo, sino que discute el colonialismo europeo durante los siglos. En este caso, toca la historia de la etnia de los Hereros y su genocidio en manos del comandante alemán Lothar von Trotha durante el año 1904 en la África Alemana. Y acá logra algo que es muy singular: el autor no se apropia de las voces de los masacrados, sino que nos presenta la historia como meros espectadores de la matanza. Este hecho tendrá sus consecuencias a futuro en la obra, pero sigamos adelante.
En un mundo desolado, más cercano al apocalipsis que al paraíso, destrozado por la Primera y Segunda Guerra Mundial, viviendo el trauma de la pérdida de Vietnam y la muerte de la imagen que de alguna forma da esperanzas a un pueblo, la paranoia se convierte en el Dios del siglo XX. Una tierra donde las Corporaciones son el verdadero enemigo, y han dejado de ser formadas por hombres para ser un Ente con autonomía de nuestro accionar. Las corporaciones y el Mercado nos han consumido y no las podremos combatir porque ellas son nuestros nuevos Dioses.
Y en este contexto de destrucción y confusión absoluta es donde logra florecer la paranoia con la que intentamos darle un sentido a lo inexplicable, a lo inhumano. ¿Pero esta incertidumbre tiene una respuesta? Eso lo dejaré a tu entender, lector. Porque Pynchon plantea las dudas y da muchas respuestas ambiguas para que uno interprete. Eso sí, no considero ninguna de las respuestas posibles como satisfactoria. Y eso es lo que le da más vida al texto.

¿Qué más decir? La novela es infinita y habla sobre colonialismo, sexualidad, ciencia, la naturaleza de la historia y nuestra percepción de esta. Habla sobre una infinidad de temas que siguen siendo relevantes casi 50 años después de su publicación. La novela es infinita.

Y la gran pregunta de todos. ¿Es difícil de leer? Bueno, sí, bastante. Pero no ilegible como plantean varios. Pynchon requiere concentración, esfuerzo y la predisposición a no entender todo lo que vas a leer. Es un autor que se beneficia de la relectura y tomar esta (y sus otras obras extensas) como una culminación que tiene un camino para llegar a este lugar. Primero recomendaría leer V y The Crying of Lot 49, luego uno está más preparado para afrontar la inmensidad de esta obra maximalista al extremo.

My second time going through this book and this time I get what all the fuss is about. Nothing else is quite like it. A brilliant military satire and much much more. Almost a musical with all the songs punctuated throughout. Looney tunes and genius at the same time. Challenging until you find your footing, but can anyone really claim to have totally gotten their balance in this warped world.

One has to admire the magnificent blend of erudition and ambition, which produced this masterwork. I have no idea why 400 characters were necessary to tell this enigmatic tale -- publishers, a scorecard, upon reprint, would help even diligent readers keep track. One suspects that passages of drafts were composed by a not altogether sober mind, although the edited drafts show discipline. However, there are places where all semblance of taste is altogether forsaken, not sure why, unless the forces of anti-gravity were simply just too overpowering. We live under a death sentence, true enough, as we all know -- the silent rocket may strike us randomly at any time. Randomly, that is, unless you're Tyrone Slothrup. With his track record it should have been harder for him to get a date. Didn't find many, or even any, lady characters who weren't predictably drawn as simple objects of desire. I think Pynchon aspired to be an American James Joyce in this novel. The writing is brilliant in many passages but Mason & Dixon transported where this novel did not, nor did V. Saul Bellow's audience once was estimated to be in the range of 20,000. Pynchon's audience is narrower -- truth be told, I fear, the audience which really understood this work is 0001. At this point Pynchon seemed to write for himself whatever he damn well pleased. Perhaps, he has earned this distinction by virtue of the merits of his extraordinary work. Perhaps, he wants to lift us beyond the realm of gravity to a higher place. But the reality of the situation is that this epic literary work is burdened by the artifice so eager to transcend the gravity to which it is so tragically bound.