The Crying of Lot 49: An Original Satire of Modern America (Perennial Classics)

There's definitely something to be said for the manic intensity and absurdity of TCL49. The beauty of Pynchon's diction is unquestionable, and there were countless sections where I would pause and re-read his often jumbled syntax not only because it confused me, but because there was a strange elegance to his unorthodox selections.

The charybdis of Pynchon's dense descriptions, allusions, and digressions made me work at reading TCL49, and by the end of the book I felt a deep kinship with Oedipa--while she struggled to grasp the realities of the Trystero, I struggled with the uncertainty that TCL49 was fully within my grasp. That slightly off-kilter balance of understanding felt natural in the context of a novel completely concerned with paranoia and diversions, a plot focused on continually confusing and maddening its protagonist. Ultimately, it felt reasonable to still feel a slight itch for clarity and elucidation at the conclusion of the novel. After all, that's precisely the feeling Oedipa is left with in the final page; we wait on tenterhooks with her, anticipating a reveal that may never come.

Read this a few months ago. I was not sure what was going on half the time that I was reading this as there were sentences that literally went on for a full page, references I did not understand, abrupt subject changes from on paragraph to the next, and way more scientific content than I ever would have expected. I did, however, have fun reading it. This book is full of wacky characters and a generally wacky plot but for some reason I had a good time with it.