Bleeding Edge [Thomas Pynchon] on *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Thomas Pynchon’s multi-genre novel loses itself in glib in-jokes and pop-culture references, writes Talitha Stevenson. Reviewed by David Kipen. Published 50 years ago by long-gone J.B. Lippincott & Co., Thomas Pynchon’s V. wasn’t just the best first novel ever.
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Post-late capitalism run amok. Who wants to know? This is where so much of the book’s heart comes into play, as September 11 and parenthood become inextricably linked: The jokes in this novel, incidentally, are superb, with the comic tone perhaps a career high point: Warm dark urban fantasy fuzzies.
She agrees, but next day he is found dead, an apparent suicide. And he is a lot funnier. With the help of a pack of local street urchins, however, Scooby and his pals foil the plan.
It’s sometimes unbecoming to ‘compare’ various parts of an author’s collective work, but Pynchon has produced so much that it’s easier to point out more common trends. And all of this is told in Pynchon’s characteristically sly, amused, polymathic, stoned-incisive American narrative voice which fascinates me as much as it ever did.
A trader with an office in the World Trade Centre, Horst is a man who eats his ice cream from the tub with two spoons, who gives his ex-wife multiple orgasms, a man who — in an eloquent quip at the expense of the American mind — thinks Inshallah is “Arabic for whatever”.
On the contrary, Bleeding Edge is a chamber symphony in P major, so generous of invention it sometimes sprawls, yet so sharp it ultimately pierces. And these mechanisms are often manifest in the vagaries of things like rocket science and radio broadcasting tools. It is tempting to submit to the urge that allows that bldeding to dominate whatever it touches; however, Pynchon’s deliberately tactful approach to encapsulating the day allows for its aftermath to come to the forefront, as its lasting effects and the inevitable changes it brought–especially to New York City and the areas close enough to both it and Washington, D.
Even Maxine’s relationship arc with her ex-husband is well-done; the scene where their kids edeg them slow-dancing together is a combination of funny and moving that he’s done only rarely before. Each lord with his own army of unquiet dead, who wander the surface world bringing terrible afflictions to the living.
And in a novel so uninterested in characters, Horst Loeffler — Maxine’s ex husband — is a joyful little hub of life. hhomas
pyndhon I feel like I should be giving thoughts, instead of just some vague and general impressions, but my shitty mind has nothing to analyze. The novel is a detective story, with its major themes being the September 11 attacks in New York City and the transformation of the world by the Internet. If not here at the end of history, when?
There is a lot of fabulous writing here, but as others have certainly noted also a lot too much, for my taste, frankly of monkeying-around.
Bleeding Edge by Thomas Pynchon
This is not one of my better reviews, I’m afraid, a fact made more embarrassing by my having had the honour of receiving an advance copy and being one of the first people to review this book on GR.
We are all part of this story.
Elsewhere attention focuses in on the sky, which is very typical of Pynchon: Well, ddge once the back-cover blurb is pretty well done, if you want to go ahead and read that.
Pynchon is also eerily prescient, and this is one of those eras where it is more prevalent to whisper on conspiracies and fear.
Bleeding Edge, by Thomas Pynchon, review
With the help of Conkling Speedwell, a man with a superhuman forensic sense of smell, she learns there is a peculiar mystery scent at the scene of Lester’s death. This review was originally written for and posted at the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography ‘s site. The overall effect is one of amused frustration, of dying to find that one extra piece of information that will help make sense of this overwhelming and vaguely threatening world.
Cover to first edition hardback.
On that note, I’d like to conclude my review by giving a shout-out to all my peeps at the NSA! Critic Michiko Kakutanireviewing Bleeding Edge for The New York Timescalled it “Pynchon Lite”, and “a scattershot work that is, by turns, entertaining and wearisome, energetic and hokey, delightfully evocative and cheaply sensational; dead-on in its conjuring of zeitgeist-y atmospherics, but often slow-footed and ham-handed in its orchestration of social details.
You want to know what it all means?
Which of course is not to suggest that Bush and his people have actually gone out and staged the events of 11 September. Like al-Qaeda, the Internet was a product of the Cold War.
Bleeding Edge, by Thomas Pynchon, review – Telegraph
But every tgomas I think of the book, this what I think: It takes place in the uncanny valley of nostalgia: Postmodern detectiveCyberpunkScience fiction.