Divergences, loops and side trips, sometimes returning to main story and sometimes becoming the main story while the one anticipated is lost. Maybe this is like life, maybe not. Reading Thomas Pynchon is such a trip. I am reading my third of his novels, Gravity's Rainbow and have tried to read it as a parallel to how things work, but unsuccessfully.

My own experience is all seen from the middle of my own head, so my story never leaves there - any narrative I may make will always be in the first person. Only an omniscient observer can speak from the insides of multiple people. When a novelist does this it's always disconcerting. When a novelist does this from the brains of multiple strange and disturbed people in the surreal context of the the British psychic WWII efforts it's freaky and wonderful. When the nightmare of one character is treated with exactly the same credulity as lunchtime banter (and thoughts) of two others, one begins to wonder if chemical assistance might be needed to read and understand Pynchon completely.

I set aside Mason & Dixon to read Gravity's Rainbow. That may have been a mistake. Setting aside Pynchon to read a bit of bubblegum has been routine for me. But nesting Pynchon within Pynchon seems too normal and makes them together a meta-meta-novel. I can imagine that rotating chapters from each of his novels would work as well as reading these works singly.

Pynchon isn't for the timid, the casual browser, or the weak. It is difficult reading, perhaps best appreciated by those for whom linearity has become too easy. It's the 64 ounce fillet mignon; too big for one meal, but far better than the best cheeseburger.

Priscilla Mae, with necklace.