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A review by dukegregory
V. by Thomas Pynchon
1.0
The second most irritating book I've read thus far this year (the premier title still fits upon Minor Detail's disintegrating scalp), and yet I'm obsessed with one scene and one scene only: Father Fairing and his conversion of various New York sewer rats to Roman Catholicism. Iconic! That's utterly unforgettable. But, otherwise, I do not care. I have no interest in caring. I won't. This is a precursor to Pynchon's future but in all of his worst ways. Disparate plots that I do not care to decode both as their own plots and as part of a greater narrative patchwork that he seems to be setting up, usually unfunny puns, themes that do never coalesce, etc. This feels like a scam, a sham and a scam, a scammy sham, a shammy scam.
Early Pynchon is awful except for Gravity's Rainbow, no matter how on show his intellect is in this and The Crying of Lot 49. I plan to get through his entire bibliography, because Gravity's Rainbow is next-level, but this makes me nervous. I plead to my agnostic lord above for middle Pynchon (Vineland) and all of late Pynchon to be better, to be his best even. I beg. I plead.
Early Pynchon is awful except for Gravity's Rainbow, no matter how on show his intellect is in this and The Crying of Lot 49. I plan to get through his entire bibliography, because Gravity's Rainbow is next-level, but this makes me nervous. I plead to my agnostic lord above for middle Pynchon (Vineland) and all of late Pynchon to be better, to be his best even. I beg. I plead.