Winner of the 1974 National Book Award “A screaming comes across the sky. . .” A few months after the Germans’ secret V-2 rocket bombs begin falling on London, British Intelligence discovers that a map of the city pinpointing the sexual conquests of one Lieutenant Tyrone Slothrop, U.S. Army, corresponds identically to a map showing the V-2 impact sites. The implications of this discovery will … discovery will launch Slothrop on an amazing journey across war-torn Europe, fleeing an international cabal of military-industrial superpowers, in search of the mysterious Rocket 00000, through a wildly comic extravaganza that has been hailed in The New Republic as “the most profound and accomplished American novel since the end of World War II.”
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Only the most remarkable American novel of the 20th century. Third time through was a charm, but so was the first. Listening to it was also a treat. Don’t be discouraged by the heft. Just read it for the entertainment. It’s not intimidating like Joyce can be.
“Gravity’s Rainbow” was published in 1973. It was a controversial book at its release, and the controversy continued to build the next year. In 1974, Pynchon’s novel was selected for a Pulitzer Prize for fiction. The Pulitzer Advisory Board, highly offended by the novel’s content, overrode the Pulitzer prize jury. As a result, no Pulitzer prize for fiction was awarded in 1974. The Advisory Board called parts of the novel unreadable, turgid, over-written, and obscene. Of the four labels they bestowed on Pynchon’s work, my favorite is ‘Turgid.’ We can return to these labels in a bit, but first, the opposing view. Time Magazine named “Gravity’s Rainbow” to its list of All-Time 100 Greatest Novels. So, there you have it: Turgid or one of the greatest American novels ever written.
Setting aside the censure and accolades, what is “Gravity’s Rainbow” about? In essence, the novel is a story, both literal and allegorical, of the parabolic arc of the V-2 rocket. In 1944, World War Two was going badly for the Nazis. The V-2 rocket was developed as a weapon of vengeance, a random arc of destruction that could be hurled at London or Amsterdam. As the allied invasion of Fortress Europe progressed, the V-2 facilities were pushed further and further into Germany itself. When the war ended, Allied recovery crews fanned out across Germany in an attempt to recover both Axis technology, and the Axis scientists who created it. Wernher Von Braun would be the most famous catch of Operation Paperclip, but not the only one. Yes, but what about the novel?
Enter Lieutenant Tyrone Slothrop, later to be know as Der Rocketmensch, the Rocket Man. Slothrop’s sexual escapades across war-torn London seem to coincide with the impact of V-2 rockets. A pattern develops, and very, very shadowy government agencies are interested in the pattern. Can Slothrop lead them to the mysterious Nazi rocket sites? Slothrop is dispatched into the chaotic ruin of post-war Europe. This bizarre fictional character is interwoven into the tale of Operation Paperclip, and “Gravity’s Rainbow” is born.
Shifting back and forth across time, across the Atlantic Ocean, and across the ruins left by the war, “Gravity’s Rainbow” is a strange and fantastic journey. The journey crosses real landscapes, as well as the dark landscape of Slothrop’s very twisted psyche. Everyone is looking for the V-2 rockets, and for the V-2 scientists. Everyone is following Slothrop, and not all with good intent. The cast of supporting characters is large, twisted, and mostly nefarious. Will he find the rocket? Will they find him? Will he survive if they do? In the meantime, can they keep the wild party going?
Back to our friends on the Pulitzer Advisory Board. “Gravity’s Rainbow” is not unreadable. I can personally attest to this, as I have read it twice; once in Germany and once in Austria. Pynchon’s seminal work can be, without a doubt, a difficult novel to read. It is, at times, convoluted and obscure. The plot is not laid out in a nice, neat linear fashion. I would be lying if I said otherwise. But the story, as difficult as it can be at times, is truly wonderful. The Pulitzer folks were not completely wrong when they called this work obscene. Depending on ones definition of obscene, there is much within these pages that could be called just that. Somewhere along the line, a reader will probably be offended by some of Pynchon’s prose. I am fairly certain Pynchon was aware of that as he was penning these lines. My advice would be to take it in stride, admit that one is offended, and keep on reading. I will leave it to the reader whether this novel is over-written. It is certainly a very long novel, complete with lengthy and, dare I say it, obscene streams of consciousness. If one wants to go along with Slothrop on this wild ride, his dark and obscene psyche is one of the passengers. Think of it as the price of admission.
And now, my favorite: Turgid. Look up ‘Turgid” as applied to language and you will find words such as Bombastic, Pompous, and Overblown. These are perfect descriptors when applied to Pynchon’s protagonist. As the crafter of this gargantuan romp, Pynchon can lay claim to all of these adjectives as well. And, guess what: he gets away with it. The reason he get away with it is because he is such a damned good writer. He is courageous, gifted, audacious, funny, and, yes, obscene and offensive. As a writer, he has knack for knowing when to push a reader’s button, or mash the button, or hold the button down and cackle like an insane monkey.
I highly recommend this novel to readers willing to take up the challenge. I recommend “Gravity’s Rainbow” as it is; warts, obscenity, turgidity and all. Is is as wild a ride as that of an errant rocket.
If I was stranded on a desert island and could only bring one book, it would be this one. Then MAYBE I could finally figure the whole story out. I read this because I was challenged to. I was told, “Everybody should read this book once.” So I bought a copy of this 3 pound book, logging in at 770 pages. And I DID read it in its entirety. It took me two months, and I was seriously confused at the end. There’s a LOT going on in this story and a LOT of it is insane weirdness. But I admit it was a good story, it had interesting characters and I felt a great sense of accomplishment when I finished it.
I don’t know how to review this book. At first, it reads like impenetrable jazz. The music is beautiful but where are you and what’s that noise? But then things begin to slip through. An idea here, a plotline there, more characters, more absurdity, more chaos, more bananas. And then you surrender to it and it takes you through a labyrinthian universe of paranoid insanity.
It takes place during WWII but it feels like right now. This is partly due to the present tense immediate voice, and partly due to the fact that I think Thomas Pynchon was a fortune teller. I’m not sure I could describe the plot but I’m not sure the plot matters. It’s a search for meaning in the meaningless. Clues and maps throughout the book can’t answer the most frightening questions, which to me seem to be, what happens when a group of animals evolves to the point where they can destroy the world but have little understanding of what that means… I should probably read it again.
Unreadable
For my life of me I can’t understand how anyone can get ten pages into this book without throwing it across the room.
I hear people say this is an impossible read. My general retort is it’s an imperative read. And a transformative read. His command of language, situation, irony, and lunacy (to say nothing of scope and perspective) cements the novel as a legitimate classic. Perhaps it’s a fair critique to say that CATCH-22 is more accessible, but I think the rewards here are more plentiful, playful, and surprising. The story and prose spins like a top, as do the insights. If “Thoughtful War Literature” is your thing, do not miss. Ditto “Cynical Humanity Deconstruction.”
Actually didn’t read for more than a few pages. I’ve decided I just don’t like writers who write in run-on sentences that are over half a page long.
All of the above.
A postmodernist classic, not for everyone.
Run, do not walk to the nearest exit. A giant waste of time. I did not finish it and I do not plan to ever finish it.
Pynchon is a great writer. His descriptions will blow you away. This book is hard to follow to say the very least, in a way because of the authors over the top, incredibly descriptive and very long sentences. Must know a bit about WWII, and the Nazi rocket/space program to get some of this. It’s a long book – characters appear, disappear, show up and are never heard from again. Or, heard from when you’ve forgotten about them. Not light reading. Could be offensive to many.
This is THE big postmodern American novel, and is about as far as you can get from “easy to read” but will reward the reader endlessly for the effort expended.
It was difficult to make sense of the message due to the fractionated sentences used in writing. I recognize this is a literary style that is considered sophisticated but to me it is unaccessible.
You have to like Pynchon. His style doesn’t please everyone. G-gosh, he stutters. Commit to reading 70 pages before you give up.
You have to remember this is a musical.
It falls apart a bit toward the end, but then the world is falling apart.
There is much grim, gritty sexuality, often in a comical vein.
It’s complicated, but there is an entire wiki dedicated to dis-obfuscating.
I’ve read it at least three times, most recently this year, and it holds up.
Excerpt:
In the kitchen, black-market marshmallows slide languid into syrup atop Pirate’s double boiler, and soon begin thickly to bubble. Coffee brews. On a wooden pub sign daringly taken, one daylight raid, by a drunken Bartley Gobbitch, across which still survives in intaglio the legend SNIPE AND SHAFT, Teddy Bloat is mincing bananas with a great isosceles knife, from beneath whose nervous blade Pirate with one hand shovels the blonde mash into waffle batter resilient with fresh hens’ eggs, for which Osbie Feel has exchanged an equal number of golf balls, these being even rarer this winter than real eggs, other hand blending the fruit in, not overvigorously, with a wire whisk, whilst surly Osbie himself, sucking frequently at a half-pint milk bottle filled with Vat 69 and water, tends to the bananas in the skillet and broiler. Near the exit to the blue patio, DeCoverley Pox and Joaquin Stick stand by a concrete scale model of the Jungfrau, which some enthusiast back during the twenties spent a painstaking year modeling and casting before finding out it was too large to get out of any door, socking the slopes of the famous mountain with red rubber hot-water bags full of ice cubes, the idea being to pulverize the ice for Pirate’s banana frappés.
I have a complex relationship with this book. It was a difficult read, taking me far longer to finish than any other book before or since. Two decades after I first read it, I tried to read it again and couldn’t, being unable bring my focus to bear. Still, it is a fantastic book! I won’t try to resolve the dichotomous character of my review, but I will add this: “Gravity’s Rainbow” changed the nature of both what and how I reader. For the better, I should add.