Because I couldn’t make my way through Gravity’s Rainbow and because Gravity’s Rainbow was one of my Summer Reading Challenge books, I decided to take a recommendation from someone at “work” and read Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49 instead. About the only thing I can say is I managed to make it through the whole book
Conspiracy theories, bah who cares. And can someone tell me why this guy insists on writing incredibly long sentences? He’s much worse than I am. Look, this is how it starts:
One summer afternoon Mrs Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Invararity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary.
I mean really, was that necessary? The whole book is like that. The whole book is unnecessary. No more Pynchon for me, thank you.