Word: pynchon
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...classics that an infinite number of monkeys might have composed on an infinite number of type writers. J.D. Salinger years ago enforced Connolly's game upon himself, vanishing into a weird silence that for those who love his work has always felt like a small, sharp loss. Thomas Pynchon dwells somewhere in an aloof privacy in deep cover making metaphysical devices in his basement, like a terrorist who has gone into the fireworks business...
Says Frank Scioscia, whose Riverrun Books in Hastings, N.Y., is an East Coast clearinghouse for contemporary literature: "The very idea of a modern book being rare is encouraging." His advice to novices: "Start with a first edition of Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow at $150, and invest intelligently at the remainder table. After all, many of the novels published in the '60s became important emotional furniture to a generation now competitively collecting books. Authors like Kurt Vonnegut, Walker Percy and Joyce Carol Gates now command rare-volume respect...
...megabucks, however, do not rest in standard first editions but in bound galleys, the paper-wrapped publisher's advance copies distributed to reviewers, talk-show hosts and other promotional outlets. Galleys are rarer: usually only 50 to 200 are printed. A copy of V., by the elusive Thomas Pynchon, brings $350 in a first edition, $850 in a bound galley. A well-preserved galley of Salinger's Catcher in the Rye commands $5,000. Even pop chillers like Stephen King's Carrie are listed at $200 in galley form...
Suicide in B-Flat is nominally concerned with the death/suicide/hoax of Niles--a Pynchon-like musician whose experimentations with sound and composition have rocketed him so far into the stratosphere that he can barely exist on the mere surface of the planet anymore. Two detectives, Louis (Christopher Randolph) and Pablo (Christian Clemenson) come in out of the mainstream and attempt to reconstruct the crime. What follows is a collage of random psychic violence and free association, philosophy and claptrap, all so intricately conceived that to follow it in any sort of literary sense is ridiculous. They talk about Shepard writing...
...what a Borgia banquet did for casual dining. From Dallas' oily antihero J.R. Ewing on down, most businessmen on television are depicted as crooks, amoral wheeler-dealers, criminals with Mafia connections, cheats, employers of professional arsonists and, worse still, jerks, clowns and buffoons. With the exception of Margaret Pynchon, the gracious owner of the Los Angeles Tribune on Lou Grant, nowhere on prime time is there anyone remotely resembling such constructive businessmen as Joseph C. Wilson of Xerox, Edwin Land of Polaroid, Alfred P. Sloan of General Motors or Thomas Watson of IBM. Is art reflecting life...