IT IS THE APEX OF OUR CULTURE

Where does one begin a discussion of Thomas Pynchon’s famously difficult novel, Gravity’s Rainbow? This free-wheeling critique takes a loose approach. On the first page, readers learn the following: Pynchon was 8 years old when World War II ended; he was good friends with author Richard Fariña; and the character Slothrop in Gravity’s Rainbow is “essentially a dumbass.” In the pages that follow, McGrouchpants tackles Slothrop, Russian demolition crews working in the night, and the novel’s Teddy Bloat in a shoot-from-the hip fashion. This is not a chapter-by-chapter analysis or a definitive investigation of certain themes. It is instead a playful examination of cultural references, including Nine Inch Nails and Eric Bogosian. It is a look at lessons to be learned from this “obscure tome nobody reads,” such as how the book “teaches you to be not-naïve.” There are also many personal (for McGrouchpants) allusions to Portland, Oregon. Powell’s bookstore and the Living Room Theater are the types of cultural institutions that allow for deep thinking on something like a comparison of Pynchon and music critic Lester Bangs. This brief work (under 25 pages) doesn’t answer a lot of questions. It instead builds a great deal of curiosity about Gravity’s Rainbow and its influence. McGrouchpants refers to the novel as being so immense that “it exists in its own time, and in its own space.” It is one of those books that can be read and reread. The novel has certainly influenced the cyberpunk genre and perhaps much more. But certain sentiments are not exactly clear. The author asserts that “a book where the bus doesn’t show up late, isn’t a book about human life” yet is that true? Some abstract passages, including how Pynchon’s name looks something like a molecular chain, do not exactly add to the intrigue. Yet on the whole, McGrouchpants’ unabashedly odd work provides a heartfelt ode to an unabashedly strange novel. What better way to pay homage to literary complexity?

Delightfully offbeat but dense, this love letter to Pynchon delivers its share of gems.