Me, Pynch, et. al.
I am sometimes called upon to be a sort of expert on Thomas Pynchon. While I would never say such a thing about myself, I believe my "credentials" at least suggest it. I wrote a master's thesis on Thomas Pynchon. I am working on a doctoral thesis concerning ethics and post modernism that relies heavily on Thomas Pynchon. I have delivered two papers at conferences on Pynchon and I regularly receive rejection letters concerning my essays from P-Notes. This is not something that a guy who simply likes The Crying of Lot 49 would do. You have to be sort of obsessed.
It is no surprise then, that for Christmas my lovely wife bought me a copy of Against the Day--Pynchon's latest tome. I immediately thought of finally reading Mason & Dixon, because I haven't--I'm saving it. I've read pretty much everything else with GR at about 3rd time around (technically--though I've read parts of it, many many times more) and Lot 49 too many times to count. I've decided to continue saving M & D and have begun reading Against the Day and am now nearly at page 400.
I think it's his best book to date. It's kind of like V., only human. Are there spoilers ahead? No. You're safe.
But that's my real problem. I've decided to go ahead and discuss the book on a blog called The Chumps of Choice populated by long time Pynchon fans as well as first time readers. The rules of the blog seem to be that I cannot 1--discuss other Pynchon work, 2--cannot give away future points in the book. Okay. Fine.
But then...here's my question on this point. Is such a thing possible? Can one honestly talk about how great this book is without discussing paranoia--and can one discuss paranoia without talking about Pynchon's views on the subject? Let's try this another way. The novel's title, Against The Day, I see as a direct relationship to the Dylan Thomas poem about Raging Against the Dying of the Light. In that poem, you are to rage against night, but night is a metaphor for death (I hope I haven't ruined that poem for you, as I didn't include "spoiler's ahead" warnings). By reversing the metaphor, Pynchon is essentially talking not about the sadness and horror at the end of a process, but rather, the insanity and possibility that exists prior to the processes inception. What's ingenious about the book is his ability to find metaphors for things that currently lack a medium (to mirror ideas that currently lack actualization). It's absolutely amazing.
But how to discuss how amazing such a process is without mapping the anatomy of the problem which, as far as I'm concerned, really begins to take solid shape in Lot 49. One event, four causes. I know someone will argue V., but V. is more like one state, one unknowable cause (possibly non-existent). Gravity's Rainbow is a further complication of all that by saying one state that might be the cause of a million effects, or might be one of a million effects from an unknown cause. In Vineland, the whole thing is rather simplified: philosophical humdrum aside, what's really important is the ability to forgive (though in forgiving one must revisit the atrocity). I mean, this is no minor thing here.
So, when a first time reader says something to the effect that there seem to be multiple "fictitious universes" operating in parallel inside Against The Day, and they want to know if that's something they should do something with or whether it's just post modern weirdness, how do you respond to that request? And I guess, when do you respond to that request is also a question because at some point in the book, it will be made clear. Do you (should I) wait until that point to say, "THERE! There is the perfect metaphor, on page 218, for that thing you were asking about on page 9. Now, go back and read those 209 pages again now that you know what's important to look for." Do I instead say, "ignore post modern weirdness for now, what you should concentrate on instead is the way that human action/reaction can survive the weirdness," which won't make any sense unless you have some idea what the weirdness is and what defines human interaction for Pynchon. His human-ness is rendered, after all, more realistically than say Hemingway's, but it doesn't seem so--not until you feel stable enough to stop and have a look around. Only then do you say, "this is what people, in fact, do. They just don't talk about it THIS way."
I'm a little distressed is, I guess, what I'm saying.
The end result is, if you can't talk about the other books and you can't talk about this book in regards to its epic sweep, then you're left sorting through details. Unfortunately, that's another problem. If you're familiar with Pynchon at all, you know that those details are kind of thrown in there to titillate you, but also to distract you. He's going to pull a sleight of hand while you're trying to figure out if what he's saying really happened or not.
Take, for instance, Maxwell's Demon from Lot 49. You concentrate on the box and one side of the little seesaw that plugs up one of two holes either lifts or it doesn't. If it lifts then you're a sensitive; if it doesn't, you aren't. All of this happens because of a little being inside the box who is attempting to parse out the slow moving molecules of air from the fast moving particles. If he can sort these things so that all the fast moving particles are in one side of the box, then the air will heat up, expand and move the lever up. He requires a "sensitive" to communicate a choice of one side of the box or the other to him in order to begin the sorting process. The Sensitive simply chooses a side of the box and attempts, via telepathy, to send the message to the demon.
Implied here are little beings with magical powers, telepathy, perpetual motion, etc.. But really, there are only two choices--50/50 you're a sensitive. The rest of it is window dressing. If you pick the right side of the box with the lever up, according to this little experiment you're psychic, but only because of the narrative that goes behind it.
Now, you might miss all of that. I did for the first few times I read the scene. You're attempts to figure out whether anyone ever theorized such a demon and 'who was Clark Maxwell, and is such a thing possible?'--questions like these keep you from noticing the way a rather supernatural story is used, convincingly, to explain a fairly mundane and common phenomena.
This is my problem, by delving so heavily into detail with this book, I'm afraid the major points will be lost. That might be okay for those of us who are well versed in Pynchon, but for the first time readers, someone's likely to think that Pynchon's greatness comes from his encyclopedia of references. That's interesting and all, but that's sort of idiot savant compared to the man's genius.
At the same time, I'm absolutely happy to be reading this book with a group of people because, well...I think that's how a book like this should be read. I even appreciate the detail work because it interests me greatly and its something I generally do my second time through a Pynchon novel. I guess I just want to talk about the book as a commentary on the state before inception because that's the part that I find mind boggling.
Maybe I'll write Blowing Shit Up With Gas on the subject.
It is no surprise then, that for Christmas my lovely wife bought me a copy of Against the Day--Pynchon's latest tome. I immediately thought of finally reading Mason & Dixon, because I haven't--I'm saving it. I've read pretty much everything else with GR at about 3rd time around (technically--though I've read parts of it, many many times more) and Lot 49 too many times to count. I've decided to continue saving M & D and have begun reading Against the Day and am now nearly at page 400.
I think it's his best book to date. It's kind of like V., only human. Are there spoilers ahead? No. You're safe.
But that's my real problem. I've decided to go ahead and discuss the book on a blog called The Chumps of Choice populated by long time Pynchon fans as well as first time readers. The rules of the blog seem to be that I cannot 1--discuss other Pynchon work, 2--cannot give away future points in the book. Okay. Fine.
But then...here's my question on this point. Is such a thing possible? Can one honestly talk about how great this book is without discussing paranoia--and can one discuss paranoia without talking about Pynchon's views on the subject? Let's try this another way. The novel's title, Against The Day, I see as a direct relationship to the Dylan Thomas poem about Raging Against the Dying of the Light. In that poem, you are to rage against night, but night is a metaphor for death (I hope I haven't ruined that poem for you, as I didn't include "spoiler's ahead" warnings). By reversing the metaphor, Pynchon is essentially talking not about the sadness and horror at the end of a process, but rather, the insanity and possibility that exists prior to the processes inception. What's ingenious about the book is his ability to find metaphors for things that currently lack a medium (to mirror ideas that currently lack actualization). It's absolutely amazing.
But how to discuss how amazing such a process is without mapping the anatomy of the problem which, as far as I'm concerned, really begins to take solid shape in Lot 49. One event, four causes. I know someone will argue V., but V. is more like one state, one unknowable cause (possibly non-existent). Gravity's Rainbow is a further complication of all that by saying one state that might be the cause of a million effects, or might be one of a million effects from an unknown cause. In Vineland, the whole thing is rather simplified: philosophical humdrum aside, what's really important is the ability to forgive (though in forgiving one must revisit the atrocity). I mean, this is no minor thing here.
So, when a first time reader says something to the effect that there seem to be multiple "fictitious universes" operating in parallel inside Against The Day, and they want to know if that's something they should do something with or whether it's just post modern weirdness, how do you respond to that request? And I guess, when do you respond to that request is also a question because at some point in the book, it will be made clear. Do you (should I) wait until that point to say, "THERE! There is the perfect metaphor, on page 218, for that thing you were asking about on page 9. Now, go back and read those 209 pages again now that you know what's important to look for." Do I instead say, "ignore post modern weirdness for now, what you should concentrate on instead is the way that human action/reaction can survive the weirdness," which won't make any sense unless you have some idea what the weirdness is and what defines human interaction for Pynchon. His human-ness is rendered, after all, more realistically than say Hemingway's, but it doesn't seem so--not until you feel stable enough to stop and have a look around. Only then do you say, "this is what people, in fact, do. They just don't talk about it THIS way."
I'm a little distressed is, I guess, what I'm saying.
The end result is, if you can't talk about the other books and you can't talk about this book in regards to its epic sweep, then you're left sorting through details. Unfortunately, that's another problem. If you're familiar with Pynchon at all, you know that those details are kind of thrown in there to titillate you, but also to distract you. He's going to pull a sleight of hand while you're trying to figure out if what he's saying really happened or not.
Take, for instance, Maxwell's Demon from Lot 49. You concentrate on the box and one side of the little seesaw that plugs up one of two holes either lifts or it doesn't. If it lifts then you're a sensitive; if it doesn't, you aren't. All of this happens because of a little being inside the box who is attempting to parse out the slow moving molecules of air from the fast moving particles. If he can sort these things so that all the fast moving particles are in one side of the box, then the air will heat up, expand and move the lever up. He requires a "sensitive" to communicate a choice of one side of the box or the other to him in order to begin the sorting process. The Sensitive simply chooses a side of the box and attempts, via telepathy, to send the message to the demon.
Implied here are little beings with magical powers, telepathy, perpetual motion, etc.. But really, there are only two choices--50/50 you're a sensitive. The rest of it is window dressing. If you pick the right side of the box with the lever up, according to this little experiment you're psychic, but only because of the narrative that goes behind it.
Now, you might miss all of that. I did for the first few times I read the scene. You're attempts to figure out whether anyone ever theorized such a demon and 'who was Clark Maxwell, and is such a thing possible?'--questions like these keep you from noticing the way a rather supernatural story is used, convincingly, to explain a fairly mundane and common phenomena.
This is my problem, by delving so heavily into detail with this book, I'm afraid the major points will be lost. That might be okay for those of us who are well versed in Pynchon, but for the first time readers, someone's likely to think that Pynchon's greatness comes from his encyclopedia of references. That's interesting and all, but that's sort of idiot savant compared to the man's genius.
At the same time, I'm absolutely happy to be reading this book with a group of people because, well...I think that's how a book like this should be read. I even appreciate the detail work because it interests me greatly and its something I generally do my second time through a Pynchon novel. I guess I just want to talk about the book as a commentary on the state before inception because that's the part that I find mind boggling.
Maybe I'll write Blowing Shit Up With Gas on the subject.
posted by Monstro D. Whale at
9:02 AM
4 Comments:
"...the insanity and possibility that exists prior to the processes inception."
I'm going to have to kick that one around a bit more. That whole 5th paragraph of yours, actually. In fact, I'm at work now & unable to make any kind of intelligent comment. (Yes, my job turns me into an idiot. I'm actually stuffing envelopes today.) I'll return later tonight or tomorrow for another go at this post.
Interesting, btw, that you say "metaphors for things that currently lack a medium." Light lacks a medium, since the Aether has been disproven.
In any case, I think you'll enjoy the blog. There have been others who've expressed a similar desire to discuss other Pynchon works in relation to ATD. I think they actually set up another area on the blog to do just that -- though I'm admittedly a Pynchon newbie and have shyed away from those discussions. Even Neddie, though (who wrote the blog "rules" to begin with), has touched on relevant non-ATD Pynchon themes from time to time in our discussions (e.g., the concept of "beyond the zero").
You'll get a good deal of use out of this, I'm confident. So far, the level of conversation has been quite a bit higher than, say, that Pynchon Wiki site for ATD -- at which, I would cite as an example, someone actually made the assertion that Lew Basnight's name should be thought of as "lube-ass."
My recommendation would be to browse the first two posts on Chumps and scan the commentary. So far, everyone's having a good time.
As I said, I may return later when I'm able to concentrate on something more advanced than sticking labels on envelopes.
I had a pretty lengthy response about taking Pynchon too seriously, but I figured it was too much. Listen, just keep reading. Honestly. The possability that Lew Bassy is supposed to be a jack about greased up buttholes is possible, but then so is the reference to Count Basey (Lew has forgotten his royal heritage and so has a place holder in lieu -ha ha- of a title).
I'm whining BSUWG. I want to talk about big concepts and "The Chumps of Choice" is not ready for that discussion... but there only on page 50. It'll come, and don't worry--I'm sticking to it.
I hope that this isn't a spoiler, but me, I'm watching those moments when the fictions figure out that there fictions, and at the same time, watching the real world become really real the way it can only in a Pynchon novel.
In the meantime, keep your mind in the aether and don't sniff the ether.
Oops, its Basnight, isn't it?
Fishing?
Monstro, FWIW, I agree with you about "spoilers." I've read, what, 8, 9 reviews of the book in various publications, and I know pretty much the broad outlines of the story(ies). It's just not the kind of book where you're waiting to see how it all turns out, dig? I just don't think it's possible to commit a true "spoiler" in a Pynchon book; it's not like sidling up behind somebody reading Dorothy Sayers and whispering, "Psst! The butler did it!"
What we're trying to avoid is discussion ahead, -- discussion based on an assumption that anyone's read any further along than our week's section. "Teaching," at this point, has to be carefully tempered with a consideration for others' delight when they discover the same things you've already discovered.
So, to take your example, when a Chump notes that multiple fictitious universes are operating in parallel on p. 9, the most polite thing you can say is, "Yes, you're right, and watch that as it develops." Then, when we do get to p. 218, crow as loudly as you like about that metaphor.
But to suggest that we should then go back and read the intervening pages again is patronizing. We'll get it.
The point, I think, being, we're discovering the same things as you are, only more slowly, and please let us discover them on our own. If we miss them, then, please, help us see them.
I too suspect that this is all just first-50-pages jitters. By p. 218, those who think they've got a taste for Pynchon won't mind at all a little reading-ahead, and those who don't will have dropped out.
Oh: On the topic of other Pynchon books, we're insituting a second post after each "current" post where that kind of discussion will be more than welcome. This week it was the "House of Seven Babblers" post. We'll try to call attention to those posts with more clarity in weeks ahead.
Oh! One more thing! Welcome to the Chumps!
PS: Yes, Basnight. "Under Night" "Lube Ass Night," forsooth!
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