The Crying of Lot 49
One of The Atlantic’s Great American Novels
“A puzzle, an intrigue, a literary and historical tour de force.” — San Francisco Examiner
The Crying of Lot 49 is Thomas Pynchon's highly original classic satire of modern America, about Oedipa Maas, a woman who finds herself enmeshed in what would appear to be an international conspiracy.
When her ex-lover, wealthy real-estate tycoon Pierce Inverarity, dies and designates her the coexecutor of his estate, California housewife Oedipa Maas is thrust into a paranoid mystery of metaphors, symbols, and the United States Postal Service. Traveling across Southern California, she meets some extremely interesting characters, and attains a not inconsiderable amount of self-knowledge.
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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.
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.
What did I just read? And why? This reminds me of The Magus if someone were challenged to write it in the style of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. I was about 25% through and pretty determined to hate it and I just kept reading because I frequently determine to finish books I should not finish-- and then I just didn't hate it. I can't explain why. I think in 2021 we can identify with the desperation that leads to conspiracy thinking? But there are other themes and the high-level of the writing that also drew me in.
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