Oedipa sat on the earth, ass getting cold, wondering whether, as Driblette had suggested that night from the shower, some version of herself hadn’t vanished with him. Perhaps her mind would go on flexing psychic muscles that no longer existed; would be betrayed and mocked by a phantom self as the amputee is by a phantom limb. Someday she might replace whatever of her had gone away by some prosthetic device, a dress of a certain color, a phrase in a letter, another lover.
“
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Thomas Pynchon, The Crying Of Lot 49
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Quotes about the book I’m reading
“[T]he three-member Pulitzer Prize jury on fiction supported Gravity’s Rainbow for the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. However, the other eleven members of the board overturned this decision, branding the book ‘unreadable, turgid, overwritten, and obscene.’”
“The novel is regarded by some as the greatest postmodern work of 20th century literature, while others have declared it unreadable.”
My kinda book.
It’s Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow. I’m reading it because Charles Fleischer kind of told me to and I do anything Charles Fleischer says.
I keep reading it although I don’t really know what’s going on but I love how it’s written. Sentences like this:
“Light oven whoomp blow us all up someday oh, ha, ha, yes.”
