I finished Gravity’s Rainbow last night, and I’m glad I read it. Having read James Joyce’s Ulysses, I feel like this was a pop-culture and World War II riff on the same, a wild take on the impossibility of understanding the complexity of the world. I’m not trying to define the book in a simple sentence, but that was my take on this chemical conglomerate, sex, and espionage fueled romp through 1945 from the London Blitz to V-J Day.
I listened to “Werner von Braun” by Tom Lehrer a few times while reading the limerick and faux show-tune filled book, which apparently inspired the commercial jingle style of “Whip It,” by Devo. The book is a trip, but it wasn’t my favorite cup of tea. I’m becoming less and less fond of “clever” and more fond of interesting, heartfelt, earnest. And while GR is certainly full of gonzo antics and was so vulgar that no Pulitzer was awarded that year, so they could wag their prudish fingers. It won the National Book Award, but Pynchon sent Professor Irwin Corey, a flamboyant comedian known as “the World’s Foremost Authority,” to accept it. My next Pynchon read will be a little more accessible, perhaps Vineland or Inherent Vice.
Mr. Fox by Helen Oyeyemi was a little more fun, riffing on the fairy tale Bluebeard, and the folk song Reynardine; the titular character is a writer who kills off all his heroines, to the dismay of his wife, and her rival: his all-too-real muse. I usually find reading about writers insufferable, but this was good fun.
And now I’ve picked up The Daughter of Doctor Moreau by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. The story moves to Yucatan. I’m only a few pages in. I’ve enjoyed Moreno-Garcia’s stories before, but this is the first novel of hers I’ve read.
Next will be The Heart in Winter, a pioneer Montana romance-adventure by Kevin Barry, the Irish writer of Night Boat to Tangier. I enjoyed that one; it was somewhat like late Ted Lewis, with a little more heart and less blood.
I’ll be on the road and will likely take a break for the American holiday next week. Stay safe and warm.
I have started and failed to get more than a few pages into Ulysses sooo many times. Maybe before I die.
Despite your best efforts, now I really want to read GRAVITY'S RAINBOW -- something had only minor interest in doing before 😆
I'd be curious to know it compares to the notorious INFINITE JEST. Now *that* is a book that's too clever by half. I had to quit reading after a "mere" 400 pages.
Have a great Thanksgiving!