Scan barcode
A review by casparb
Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon
5.0
I'll admit to being underread in Pynchon. But I wanted some sort of slap in the face - a distinct challenge to get through this week. Gravity's Rainbow more than delivers. I'm sure the comparison to Dr. Strangelove has been done to death but I've mentioned it now so it's out of the way.
This is a novel with a fearsome reputation - hailed as a postmodern Ulysses (if this loaded word did not entail a meaning which it is precisely the function of much of postmodern thinking to suspect, Derrida reference ha ha ha). The reputation is deserved to an extent - one can certainly dedicate years to the study of this novel - but the difficulty is, I think, slightly overstated. Gravity's Rainbow has teething issues - it took me appx. 150 pages to key into Pynchon's incredibly intricate prose in this novel, but novels such as War and Peace possess similar issues. There are brief glimpses of gorgeous prose, comparable to the last few pages of Ulysses. Every sentence feels highly Intended.
The most interesting thing! To me! Is the fascinating relationship of the novel's content with Freudian thought. It's an avenue Pynchon has explored previously: let us not forget the provocatively-named protagonist of Lot 49, Oedipa. To be clear, Gravity's Rainbow has scenes which are profoundly disturbing - some of Pynchon's sex scenes appear crafted specifically so as to turn the stomach. But overall, the novel is hypersaturated with innuendo and phallic symbolism. The covert pun in the opening sentence entirely delights me. I would presume to argue that Pynchon manages to overturn Freudianism through sheer force of excess - social life is not underpinned by sexual desire, rather, it IS sexual desire. This (perhaps overly-bold) assertion is, I feel, vindicated by a short passage from a tarot-reading section in the novel's final few pages. I could go on and on.
A particularly genius touch I appreciated is a very minor quotation from the Gospel of Thomas. This is such a brief instance, entirely overlookable, but has colossal implications - authorial, archaeological-historical, anagogical, the theological (gnostic) context, metatextual, and so on. It has wonderful relevance to the narrative context too, but I'm avoiding spoilers.
This novel is, in its essence, a complete mess. But an entirely loveable one, through sheer force of Pynchon's ability to entertain. I think this really speaks to the genius of his technical, complex prose. I'm tempted to contrast it with Infinite Jest, which is similarly an underedited mess - but DFW fails to maintain focus, and his novel becomes a slog after 400 pages.
Gravity's Rainbow is not for everyone - at times it's a downright bastard. Pynchon's play with narratological truth-value renders it frequently alienating, but intentionally so. I'm left confused here and there, but blissfully so, as I believe Pynchon intended. It's going to be knocking about the brain for a good many months from now.
This is a novel with a fearsome reputation - hailed as a postmodern Ulysses (if this loaded word did not entail a meaning which it is precisely the function of much of postmodern thinking to suspect, Derrida reference ha ha ha). The reputation is deserved to an extent - one can certainly dedicate years to the study of this novel - but the difficulty is, I think, slightly overstated. Gravity's Rainbow has teething issues - it took me appx. 150 pages to key into Pynchon's incredibly intricate prose in this novel, but novels such as War and Peace possess similar issues. There are brief glimpses of gorgeous prose, comparable to the last few pages of Ulysses. Every sentence feels highly Intended.
The most interesting thing! To me! Is the fascinating relationship of the novel's content with Freudian thought. It's an avenue Pynchon has explored previously: let us not forget the provocatively-named protagonist of Lot 49, Oedipa. To be clear, Gravity's Rainbow has scenes which are profoundly disturbing - some of Pynchon's sex scenes appear crafted specifically so as to turn the stomach. But overall, the novel is hypersaturated with innuendo and phallic symbolism. The covert pun in the opening sentence entirely delights me. I would presume to argue that Pynchon manages to overturn Freudianism through sheer force of excess - social life is not underpinned by sexual desire, rather, it IS sexual desire. This (perhaps overly-bold) assertion is, I feel, vindicated by a short passage from a tarot-reading section in the novel's final few pages. I could go on and on.
A particularly genius touch I appreciated is a very minor quotation from the Gospel of Thomas. This is such a brief instance, entirely overlookable, but has colossal implications - authorial, archaeological-historical, anagogical, the theological (gnostic) context, metatextual, and so on. It has wonderful relevance to the narrative context too, but I'm avoiding spoilers.
This novel is, in its essence, a complete mess. But an entirely loveable one, through sheer force of Pynchon's ability to entertain. I think this really speaks to the genius of his technical, complex prose. I'm tempted to contrast it with Infinite Jest, which is similarly an underedited mess - but DFW fails to maintain focus, and his novel becomes a slog after 400 pages.
Gravity's Rainbow is not for everyone - at times it's a downright bastard. Pynchon's play with narratological truth-value renders it frequently alienating, but intentionally so. I'm left confused here and there, but blissfully so, as I believe Pynchon intended. It's going to be knocking about the brain for a good many months from now.