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4.18 AVERAGE
4.18 AVERAGE
challenging
funny
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
I have fallen in love with Inherent Vice, and enjoyed The Crying of Lot 49 quite a bit, so it's a shock and a sadness to realise that this book sort of just... passed me by, especially given its near-800 page length.
I loved Part One, adored Part Three, but felt the middle was treading water. To complain about the overabundance of tangents in a Pynchon novel is missing the point, but I also feel that his other novels I've read actually had an obvious throughline. As with damn near every other Great American Postmodern Novel (or GAPN, if you prefer), you just need to keep some variation of the idea "what happened to America?" in your head and the tangents begin to click together into a cohesive whole. This time, though, I couldn't find what that central idea or question was before I'd finished the book. Lot 49 is asking, "what is happening to America?" while Inherent Vice wonders, "why did we let that happen to America?" Mason & Dixon? Still not sure.
I loved the characters, but not quite enough to spend this long directionlessly wandering with them when that wandering takes up over 300 of the middle pages. (the same problem I have with my current TV show, sense8, ironically - also from auteurs I deeply respect)
I think, once I read some scholarship and discussions on this book, I will love it. And anyway, all of these GAPNs are built and written with the expectation that the discerning reader will go through two, three times in order to "get" them. Fair, and I'm ready for that, given I'm on my 11th watch of Inherent Vice's film adaptation. I've just... gotta wait a while before delving back into a 773-page GAPN. It's a lot to ask of a reader.
I loved Part One, adored Part Three, but felt the middle was treading water. To complain about the overabundance of tangents in a Pynchon novel is missing the point, but I also feel that his other novels I've read actually had an obvious throughline. As with damn near every other Great American Postmodern Novel (or GAPN, if you prefer), you just need to keep some variation of the idea "what happened to America?" in your head and the tangents begin to click together into a cohesive whole. This time, though, I couldn't find what that central idea or question was before I'd finished the book. Lot 49 is asking, "what is happening to America?" while Inherent Vice wonders, "why did we let that happen to America?" Mason & Dixon? Still not sure.
I loved the characters, but not quite enough to spend this long directionlessly wandering with them when that wandering takes up over 300 of the middle pages. (the same problem I have with my current TV show, sense8, ironically - also from auteurs I deeply respect)
I think, once I read some scholarship and discussions on this book, I will love it. And anyway, all of these GAPNs are built and written with the expectation that the discerning reader will go through two, three times in order to "get" them. Fair, and I'm ready for that, given I'm on my 11th watch of Inherent Vice's film adaptation. I've just... gotta wait a while before delving back into a 773-page GAPN. It's a lot to ask of a reader.
Ergh.
I've read (and loved) Gravity's Rainbow and Inherent Vice, but M&D just did not do it for me. The book was a slog, and honestly most of the time I had no idea what was happening or who was speaking.
It currently holds the lowest position on the "value of reading"/"difficulty of reading" ratio scale.
I've read (and loved) Gravity's Rainbow and Inherent Vice, but M&D just did not do it for me. The book was a slog, and honestly most of the time I had no idea what was happening or who was speaking.
It currently holds the lowest position on the "value of reading"/"difficulty of reading" ratio scale.
Em quase mil densas páginas eivadas de pujança literária, sarcasmo latente, numa miríade de narrativas e personagens secundárias em conexão com as principais, de humor quase omnipresente, não me limitei a «ler um livro», vivi a agora-muito-em-voga «experiência».
Foram muitas horas de roda da designada «literatura pós-moderna», dentro das quais Mason & Dixon surgiram, exploraram, viveram as suas vidas numa complexa relação, e depois se extinguiram.
Nessa Linha de vida, que foi também parcialmente traçada na mapeada linha com o nome dos astrónomos, há reflexões sobre o que é a América, a escravatura, a amizade, o amor, o desterro, a pertença, a solidão e a melancolia inerentes à condição humana, o fascínio da ciência e as tresloucadas teorias emergentes de ramos novos e velhos do saber.
Sem prejuízo do muito mais que constitui tão plúrimo e opulento livro, dele retirei duas grandezas maiores: a relação entre Mason & Dixon, complexa e única como as relações humanas verdadeiramente válidas tendem a sê-lo; e a contundente passagem em que - por ocasião de uma anomalia temporal relacionada com a supressão de 11 dias do calendário - Mason expõe o seu perene amor por Rebekah, reconduzindo a sua própria existência a um hiato até ela.
Foram muitas horas de roda da designada «literatura pós-moderna», dentro das quais Mason & Dixon surgiram, exploraram, viveram as suas vidas numa complexa relação, e depois se extinguiram.
Nessa Linha de vida, que foi também parcialmente traçada na mapeada linha com o nome dos astrónomos, há reflexões sobre o que é a América, a escravatura, a amizade, o amor, o desterro, a pertença, a solidão e a melancolia inerentes à condição humana, o fascínio da ciência e as tresloucadas teorias emergentes de ramos novos e velhos do saber.
Sem prejuízo do muito mais que constitui tão plúrimo e opulento livro, dele retirei duas grandezas maiores: a relação entre Mason & Dixon, complexa e única como as relações humanas verdadeiramente válidas tendem a sê-lo; e a contundente passagem em que - por ocasião de uma anomalia temporal relacionada com a supressão de 11 dias do calendário - Mason expõe o seu perene amor por Rebekah, reconduzindo a sua própria existência a um hiato até ela.
I found Mason & Dixon to be confusing, boring, and nowhere near as good a use of colloquial language as John Barthe's "The Sot-Weed Factor" which was an infinitely more entertaining read.
Ένα βιβλίο με εξαιρετικό χιούμορ, γεμάτο ενδιαφέρουσες γνώσεις!
challenging
funny
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
funny
informative
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
I had wondered how anyone, even a writer of Pynchon’s caliber, could ever follow up Gravity’s Rainbow. Now I know: you follow it up with Mason & Dixon.
This novel is fantastic. Pynchon’s absolute command of language is phenomenal— readers will quickly adjust to the cadence and grammar of his period style. And the slapstick that has always been a hallmark of Pynchon’s style here is elevated to new levels, where nary a chapter will pass by without something making you double over from laughter.
And it’s not just funny, either. Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon are truly the original American bromance. The growth of their relationship over the decades is touching and feels so true. Pynchon also uses them effectively to cut a bleak picture of the white American settlers during this historical period. For all their bluster about ‘freedom’, they certainly seem fine ignoring the conditions of the slaves (that many of them own) and the indigenous people of the continent.
All in all, after being personally let down a bit by Vineland, Mason & Dixon has reinvigorated my excitement for the remaining novels of Pynchon’s that I have yet to read . . .
This novel is fantastic. Pynchon’s absolute command of language is phenomenal— readers will quickly adjust to the cadence and grammar of his period style. And the slapstick that has always been a hallmark of Pynchon’s style here is elevated to new levels, where nary a chapter will pass by without something making you double over from laughter.
And it’s not just funny, either. Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon are truly the original American bromance. The growth of their relationship over the decades is touching and feels so true. Pynchon also uses them effectively to cut a bleak picture of the white American settlers during this historical period. For all their bluster about ‘freedom’, they certainly seem fine ignoring the conditions of the slaves (that many of them own) and the indigenous people of the continent.
All in all, after being personally let down a bit by Vineland, Mason & Dixon has reinvigorated my excitement for the remaining novels of Pynchon’s that I have yet to read . . .
Against the Day, here’s looking at you . . .
It is hard to pin down a novel as grand in scope and intimate in detail as Mason & Dixon. Thomas Pynchon follows the journey of Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon as they draw the line of latitude that will come to delineate Pennsylvania and Maryland. In typical Pynchon fashion, they are accompanied by a seemingly endless line of odd characters, from a pot smoking George Washington to a mechanical duck. Not all the characters are necessary from a plot standpoint, but they are vital to Pynchon’s style and the world he builds. Their purpose is to add various textural wrinkles to the world; it’s a heightened, exaggerated America that reflects and twists our own. As in a few other Pynchon novels, he manages to work in elements of the supernatural that may or may not be actually occurring. Of course, whether they are or not is beside the point; he uses these paranormal occurrences as metaphors and devices to give us insight into the characters and their worlds.
What immediately draws you into the book is the prose. Pynchon uses a sort of faux 18th century dialect as both the characters and narrator’s dialogue. It’s a bold choice that results in some of the most beautiful passages I’ve ever read. From the first page, Pynchon describes the environment of 18th century America in stunning beauty and detail. It places us in that old-world mindset of gathering around the fireplace and listening to older folks tell their stories of dubious accuracy. Once you get the rhythm and cadence of the writing, it flows as easily and effortlessly as the ocean waves. If you aren’t paying close attention, it’s pretty easy to lose the plot and get lost in Pynchon’s use of flashbacks within flashbacks and long, winding sentences. However, I don’t find this to be a negative aspect of his writing; it’s a feature, not a bug. It’s what you come to Pynchon for. It’s easily the best written Pynchon novel I’ve read so far. His use of the style beautifully realizes the internal conflict and thoughts of the characters. It would unconditionally be a poorer novel without it.
Pynchon uses the story of Mason and Dixon’s journey across the Eastern coast of America as a distillation of centuries of American history. He is interested in the minutiae of the American experience: how people cooked their food, how they spoke, how relationships were formed. He uses this antiquated world to explore the racism against Africans & African Americans, the genocide of the Native Americans, capitalism, labor, class, religion, social hierarchies, and so, so much more. It’s truly difficult to state just how much this book touches on. At a dense 773 pages, Pynchon weaves in and out of plot threads and thematic material with ease, sometimes multiple times within the same chapter. It may not seem like heavy material when you first read it, but he has such a specific a way of revisiting themes– such as the omnipresent Wind – that imbues them with emotional heft and a meaning that transcends the pages. Pynchon uses the old-world to interrogate modern American ideals and attitudes. Have we really moved on from the horrors of slavery? Have we come face to face with what we did to the Native Americans? Though the novel takes place in the mid-to-late 1700s and was published in 1997, it feels just as politically relevant and bold as ever before.
The whole framing for the book, a family huddled around an old man – Reverend Wicks Cherrycoke – spinning a tale around the fire, is genius. Not only does it allow Pynchon the freedom to stray off into his wonderful tangents, it also acts as a meta-commentary on storytelling itself. A lot of this book is concerned with history: who writes it, how it gets disseminated, etc. This narrative framing is a direct reflection of the themes of the book. What we know of history is subjective, relying on hearsay and events that were potentially exaggerated or outright fabricated by characters like Cherrycoke. It interrogates the idea of what truth is and who and why gets to determine it. It’s an interesting twist to use this with such well-known historical figures; this sort of postmodernism is right up Pynchon’s alley.
Mason & Dixon is both hilarious and heartfelt, melancholic and joyous. It perfectly captures the contradictions and the oxymoronic nature of the American experience. The main through line of the novel, Mason and Dixon’s friendship, is lovingly realized. Pynchon’s way of telling their tale of brotherhood, camaraderie, and genuine love and respect is absolutely heartbreaking. By the last few chapters, I was totally tearing up as the two lead characters grew old and grey, reflecting on their past adventures and their past selves. Having only read three other Pynchon novels, I wouldn’t hesitate to say that this is his best work. It taps into what makes his work so special; a keen sense of melancholy, beautiful, labyrinthine stories and prose, and a critical look at what made America what it is. Highly, highly recommended.
What immediately draws you into the book is the prose. Pynchon uses a sort of faux 18th century dialect as both the characters and narrator’s dialogue. It’s a bold choice that results in some of the most beautiful passages I’ve ever read. From the first page, Pynchon describes the environment of 18th century America in stunning beauty and detail. It places us in that old-world mindset of gathering around the fireplace and listening to older folks tell their stories of dubious accuracy. Once you get the rhythm and cadence of the writing, it flows as easily and effortlessly as the ocean waves. If you aren’t paying close attention, it’s pretty easy to lose the plot and get lost in Pynchon’s use of flashbacks within flashbacks and long, winding sentences. However, I don’t find this to be a negative aspect of his writing; it’s a feature, not a bug. It’s what you come to Pynchon for. It’s easily the best written Pynchon novel I’ve read so far. His use of the style beautifully realizes the internal conflict and thoughts of the characters. It would unconditionally be a poorer novel without it.
Pynchon uses the story of Mason and Dixon’s journey across the Eastern coast of America as a distillation of centuries of American history. He is interested in the minutiae of the American experience: how people cooked their food, how they spoke, how relationships were formed. He uses this antiquated world to explore the racism against Africans & African Americans, the genocide of the Native Americans, capitalism, labor, class, religion, social hierarchies, and so, so much more. It’s truly difficult to state just how much this book touches on. At a dense 773 pages, Pynchon weaves in and out of plot threads and thematic material with ease, sometimes multiple times within the same chapter. It may not seem like heavy material when you first read it, but he has such a specific a way of revisiting themes– such as the omnipresent Wind – that imbues them with emotional heft and a meaning that transcends the pages. Pynchon uses the old-world to interrogate modern American ideals and attitudes. Have we really moved on from the horrors of slavery? Have we come face to face with what we did to the Native Americans? Though the novel takes place in the mid-to-late 1700s and was published in 1997, it feels just as politically relevant and bold as ever before.
The whole framing for the book, a family huddled around an old man – Reverend Wicks Cherrycoke – spinning a tale around the fire, is genius. Not only does it allow Pynchon the freedom to stray off into his wonderful tangents, it also acts as a meta-commentary on storytelling itself. A lot of this book is concerned with history: who writes it, how it gets disseminated, etc. This narrative framing is a direct reflection of the themes of the book. What we know of history is subjective, relying on hearsay and events that were potentially exaggerated or outright fabricated by characters like Cherrycoke. It interrogates the idea of what truth is and who and why gets to determine it. It’s an interesting twist to use this with such well-known historical figures; this sort of postmodernism is right up Pynchon’s alley.
Mason & Dixon is both hilarious and heartfelt, melancholic and joyous. It perfectly captures the contradictions and the oxymoronic nature of the American experience. The main through line of the novel, Mason and Dixon’s friendship, is lovingly realized. Pynchon’s way of telling their tale of brotherhood, camaraderie, and genuine love and respect is absolutely heartbreaking. By the last few chapters, I was totally tearing up as the two lead characters grew old and grey, reflecting on their past adventures and their past selves. Having only read three other Pynchon novels, I wouldn’t hesitate to say that this is his best work. It taps into what makes his work so special; a keen sense of melancholy, beautiful, labyrinthine stories and prose, and a critical look at what made America what it is. Highly, highly recommended.
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
The best to ever do it; there is no second.
And you too. </>
Exact Rating: 3.75 stars
“Mason & Dixon” is one of the most unique books I’ve ever read. This extremely postmodern novel reads like a historical documentary written by someone on an acid trip who also really loves silly puns. It was at times enthralling, frustrating, fascinating, tender, impenetrable and hilarious.
I spent nearly 2.5 months wading through these pages and there were a couple weeks during which I was NOT enjoying the experience. But now that I’ve reached the conclusion, I am fully satisfied - grateful to have had the chance to read this story. I'll miss these characters that I spent so much time with.
This book is assuredly a work of genius. The research that went into every single chapter must have been immense! And it is never boring. Even the segments that I most struggled with were not for lack of effort or creativity on the part Pynchon. Instead, it was sometimes when the prose was TOO metatextual and off-the-wall that I felt the most frustration. Every storyline was a swing for the fences, but not all of them connected…at least not for me.
As I’ve said in previous reviews, my overall rating sometimes doesn’t feel representative of my true experience. There were plenty of times where I felt like this work deserved five stars, but there were certainly others when I felt like I'd be generous to give it three.
In my opinion, this story is at its best when it’s taking something ridiculous from real history (e.g. the pooping duck automaton) and really leaning into the absurdity. Or alternatively, when it focuses on Mason & Dixon themselves and the softer side of their often quarrelsome relationship, like this exchange regarding Mason’s beloved wife, who has recently passed:
“Tell me, then,- what if I can't just lightly let her drop? What if I won't just leave her to the Weather, and Forgetfulness? What if I want to spend, even squander, my precious time trying to make it up to her? Somehow? Do you think anyone can simply let that all go?"
“Thou must," Dixon does not say.
Instead, tilting his wine-glass at Mason as if ‘twere a leaden Ale-Can, he beams sympathetically. "Then tha must break thy Silence, and tell me somewhat of her.”
“Mason & Dixon” is one of the most unique books I’ve ever read. This extremely postmodern novel reads like a historical documentary written by someone on an acid trip who also really loves silly puns. It was at times enthralling, frustrating, fascinating, tender, impenetrable and hilarious.
I spent nearly 2.5 months wading through these pages and there were a couple weeks during which I was NOT enjoying the experience. But now that I’ve reached the conclusion, I am fully satisfied - grateful to have had the chance to read this story. I'll miss these characters that I spent so much time with.
This book is assuredly a work of genius. The research that went into every single chapter must have been immense! And it is never boring. Even the segments that I most struggled with were not for lack of effort or creativity on the part Pynchon. Instead, it was sometimes when the prose was TOO metatextual and off-the-wall that I felt the most frustration. Every storyline was a swing for the fences, but not all of them connected…at least not for me.
As I’ve said in previous reviews, my overall rating sometimes doesn’t feel representative of my true experience. There were plenty of times where I felt like this work deserved five stars, but there were certainly others when I felt like I'd be generous to give it three.
In my opinion, this story is at its best when it’s taking something ridiculous from real history (e.g. the pooping duck automaton) and really leaning into the absurdity. Or alternatively, when it focuses on Mason & Dixon themselves and the softer side of their often quarrelsome relationship, like this exchange regarding Mason’s beloved wife, who has recently passed:
“Tell me, then,- what if I can't just lightly let her drop? What if I won't just leave her to the Weather, and Forgetfulness? What if I want to spend, even squander, my precious time trying to make it up to her? Somehow? Do you think anyone can simply let that all go?"
“Thou must," Dixon does not say.
Instead, tilting his wine-glass at Mason as if ‘twere a leaden Ale-Can, he beams sympathetically. "Then tha must break thy Silence, and tell me somewhat of her.”