Biff! Zing!
The last few chapters I’ve read in Gravity’s Rainbow are really what it’s all about. There’s been action, characters intersecting through metaphor, names able by their very mention to invoke ponderances of a dozen others, dramatic irony, entertaining interludes that probably won’t mean anything for a while if at all, sex, drugs and dirty songs. I love it.
I read a short chapter over lunch today at Al Capri, where the ziti special was delicious. I had to read most of it while trying to ignore “Slow Ride” playing on the radio, but I only had six pages or so to get through, and a trip to the bike shop earlier had already conditioned me against the wiles of classic rock. They seem to like Pink Floyd and Rush a lot at the bike shop. “Freewill” was playing when I left. When I got home tonight, I found that my usual Tuesday-night medical drama pulp had been preempted by some sort of American Idol–esque reality show junk, so, my head full of chicken and disappointment, I returned again to the sea of words. I’m on page 627, the end of section 3. Bring it, Pynchon.