Word: pynchon
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Ever since the appearance of Thomas Pynchon's epic, mind-bending Gravity's Rainbow (1973), rumors have circulated among the faithful that the elusive author was working on two new projects: a novel about Japanese monster movies and one dealing with the 18th century drawing of the Mason-Dixon line between the (then) colonies of Pennsylvania and Maryland. Fragments of a Godzilla-like episode indeed appeared in Pynchon's Vineland (1990), and now here comes a real monster: Mason & Dixon (Henry Holt; 773 pages...
...Pynchon, the one-time enfant terrible of American literature, turns 60 this May. He still refuses to give interviews or pose for photographers, but his whereabouts are now known. New York magazine reported last fall that Pynchon has been living quietly in Manhattan--an odd choice for a presumptive recluse--with his wife and young son for the past six or so years. In 1996 he attracted gossipy notice by writing the liner notes for an album by the alternative-rock band Lotion and appearing as an enthusiastic booster at some of the group's concerts. If this behavior suggests...
...else can kid around as brilliantly as Pynchon. Mason & Dixon bears some resemblances to Gravity's Rainbow. Both books are huge (the first edition of Gravity's Rainbow ran 760 pages). Both have truncated double dactyls (Duh-duh-duh Duh-duh) as titles. Both manifest Pynchon's trademark narrative rhythm, repeated segues from cartoonish pratfalls into surreal episodes of phantasmagoric dread, punctuated by periodic eruptions of songs or poems...
This spring an unusual and virtually simultaneous blooming of senior novelists is taking place. Norman Mailer (see following review), Saul Bellow, the mysterious Thomas Pynchon and a seemingly perennial Philip Roth all have new works scheduled for publication. American Pastoral (Houghton Mifflin; 423 pages; $26) is Roth's fourth offering in fewer than seven years, making the 64-year-old a sort of Cal Ripkin of American letters...
...BOOKS. . . MASON & DIXON: Although there are similarities of length and his trademark narrative rhythm, Thomas Pynchon?s new novel (Henry Holt; 773 pages; $27.50) is in some ways even more difficult than its famously challenging predecessor, 'Gravity's Rainbow.' This time out, the author renounces contemporary English speech altogether and casts the entire narrative in the 18th century diction allegedly spoken by a clergyman named Wicks Cherrycoke; he is the one who tells aloud the tale of his one-time acquaintances Charles Mason (1728-86) and Jeremiah Dixon (1733-79) over what must have been an incredibly long night...