As a reader, I like a challenge. A lot of the stuff I
typically read would be, and unfortunately often is, considered trash by a
certain other type of reader. Snobbish readers, the worst kind of readers ever!
I love fantasy novels, comics, science fiction, crime fiction, and other genre
works. I have no real interest in what people call “literary” fiction. I don’t
recall who said it, but I once read that what is often categorized as “literary
fiction” is basically just drama. Now, there is nothing wrong with drama, but
why not have some fantastic elements with your drama? Still, every once in a
while I feel self-conscious about my reading choices and I can’t help but ask
myself “why am I ready this trashy shit?!” The obvious answer is that I love it
and I love it because it stimulates me in ways that the books I read as part of
my high school curriculum did not. I like novels with a lot of ideas,
regardless of how wild and impossible they may seem, and I love it when those
books take what at first can look like an outlandish idea and turn it into
something profound, into something that focuses on a facet of human existence.
Much to my dismay, sometimes the genre literature I prefer gives me big ideas
without taking the time to develop them properly. It’s at this point that I
start looking for books and authors with more ambition.
This leads us to Thomas Pynchon. I’m not sure why but I
only discovered him recently. After finding out that one of my favourite
directors, Paul Thomas Anderson, would be developing an adaptation of a novel
by Pynchon, I started to read about the elusive author. He is an extremely fascinating
person and his bibliography is one of the most interesting ones I’ve ever
encountered even though I’ve read none of his books prior to this one.
Something about Pynchon, something that remains just out of reach, absolutely
captivated me. It also scared me a little. Here is a man who has such an
imposing reputation that despite my rapidly growing desire to read one of his
books I shied away until just three months ago.
Pynchon is notorious for writing very dense, intricately
detailed, confusingly plotted books inhabited by dozens, and dozens of
characters. He’s one of the key writers of the last century, particularly in
the postmodern movement. He’s also one of those authors that effortlessly
exudes an intelligence that is, quite frankly, a little frightening. Here is a
man who clearly knew more about the world we live in by the time his first
novel was published than I will ever know in my entire lifetime. Go read about
him online. Read more than just his Wikipedia entry, and you’ll quickly know
what I mean. The desire of reading one of his highly acclaimed novels was
chilling thought. It was also very alluring. What would it say about me if I
could read a Pynchon novel and (miraculously?) understand it? Why, that might
justify all the time I spend reading about made up worlds and herculean heroes
and spaceships during my free time! More importantly, it might just give me
that feeling I haven’t felt in a while after finishing a book. I desperately
wanted to be blown away by a masterful novel and if that meant discovering a
new author in the process, then so be it. The world has presented me with a
challenge and it was my responsibility as an avid reader to face it head on.
As expected, it was worth it. Inherent Vice is by no means an easy book. Well, it might be an
easy book if you’re already a lifelong devotee to Pynchon and his work. For me,
a complete noob, it was a revelation. Here is an author who delivered exactly
what I was expecting to find while doing it in ways I never could have anticipated.
It’s undeniable that Pynchon is playing with genre tropes but here, with his
main character being a private detective in Los Angeles. He only uses this as a
foundation for his story because the rest of the book is so different from
private detective novels that it’s honestly weird to mention both in the same
sentence. What this book is really about is the transitional phase between two
distinctly different decades: the 60s leading into the 70s.
The story takes place in the Spring of 1970 shortly
before the Charles Manson trials. Inherent
Vice is about a great deal of things but one of its defining
characteristics is presenting the reading with the swan song of the 60s. It’s
also a novel about the beach, surfing, music, drugs, hippie lifestyle, the
basic evil that permeated the world of the 60s and fully erupted in the dawn of
the 70s. It’s about how our dreams and goals can so easily lead us to dark and
uninviting places. Another really great theme in this book is technology’s
power to seduce and isolate individuals from one another. Excess in
recreational activities can also lead to this isolation. People spend more time
with their TVs than with their friends and loved ones. People have more
interest in getting really fucking stoned and stare at shitty art than they do
about doing any real socialization or social interaction. It’s no surprise that
ARPANET, the Internet’s ancestor, figures as a plot point in this book because the
Internet is a black hole of information and distraction inside of which all our
time gets sucked up. While we’re distracted by the sounds of the grooviest
tunes coming out of our brand new high fidelity headphones, large corporations
and government officials are radically changing our world. To be fair, this era
in American history was also characterized by a growing social responsibility,
but it was also quite heavily counterbalanced by a desire to have a good time.
Most of the action takes place in and around Gordita
Beach, a fictional stand-in for the real Manhattan Beach where Pynchon used to
work and hangout. That’s one of the many interesting facts I learned while
reading the Inherent Vice annotations. Gordita Beach is the home of many wonderful characters,
all of them linked to our reefer-smoking, flip flop-wearing PI, Doc Sportello. The
story begins with the investigation in the disappearance of Mickey Wolfmann, a wealthy
land developer who is dealing with the reality of his karmic imbalance. He’s
latest squeeze is Shasta, Doc’s ex-girlfriend, who pops up occasionally
throughout the novel. They’re both mixed in with some of the flashiest and
strangest characters in all of Los Angeles, such as Coy Harlingen who is best
described as a reincarnation of Jesus, who willingly suffers for our sins by
working for shady organizations. One of my favourites, is the always grumpy and
often violent “Bigfoot” Bjornsen, a cop frenemy of Doc’s who is as unobliging
as he is helpful. He’s truly a very complex character. I would be to if all of
Gordita Beach always ran to Doc to solve their problems instead of going to the
police. Then again, Doc is pretty good at remembering things and solving cases.
Only problem is that he often ends up doing it for free but that translate to
good karma which probably prevents him from getting killed while navigating
through the under-underbelly of crime and corruption in LA. This is but a tiny
sample of the characters crammed within these pages. Even throwaway characters
are given plenty of nuance and intrigue to keep the most demanding readers
satisfied.
Pynchon’s psychedelic novel is also marked by two very
distinct yet balanced tones. The first is a very strong tone of paranoia.
Nothing is as it seems on the surface and Pynchon repeatedly peels back the
layers, not with the goal of confounding the reader, but with the intent of
forcing open our eyes by having us face our ignorance head on. The second
prevalent tone of this book is its zany, goofy, and delightful humour and love
of life. Pynchon might be suggesting that the 60s was the American population’s
teenage years in which we found delight in almost all forms of entertainment.
People mixed influences and interests without a care in the world and concocted
admittedly strange ways of seeing and appreciating the world around us. To push
this metaphor even further, it was also during the teenage years that the US started
to lay the foundations of social change. Individuals can be represented as still
being very immature in many respects but also having a wisdom that can be surprising.
This is combined with an interest in traditionally adult concerns. It’s a
fascinating mash-up of varying sources that makes for a highly engaging (if
regularly off-kilter and sometimes confusing) read.
Why I really enjoy difficult and challenging reads like Peace by Gene Wolfe and The Silmarillion by J. R. R. Tolkien), I’ll
never let go of my trashy books. They’re an important part of my identity, even
if my immediate preferences change on a weekly basis. However, it’s very
refreshing and (if not immediately, then eventually) energizing to read books
that offer me a challenge. Books that force me to pay attention to the way a
sentence is structured, a book that demands I keep track of multiple plot lines
as well as thematic cues, a book that requires I invest myself in my reading
instead of taking it for granted. Books like Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon also present me a challenge when
it’s time for me to write a review. I don’t have the same kind of experience
reviewing a book like this one nor do I feel that I have the write vocabulary
to do the book justice, regardless of whether I liked the novel or not. Like
Pynchon’s writing which so effortlessly blends high- and low-brow references
and sensibilities, I think that the path to becoming a better reader lies in
having a good balance of genre and literary novels on your bookshelf. It will
fuel your reading hours with lofty goals and ambitions while anchoring your ego
with the average Joe by way of Godzilla films, surfer music, and Star Trek. If
you’ve never tried to read a book by Pynchon, I’d recommend this one. Based on
my research online and having read it, I feel comfortable saying this is one of
his most approachable and welcoming books. Trashy novel readers beware, you
might have to work a little and that’s ok.
As a whole, Inherent
Vice is an intentionally un-structured book about very complex characters, a
detailed setting, a chaotic yet rich time period. That’s not to say the book
has no structure, but the underlying shape of the plot and direction of the narrative
are so fluid, almost carefree, that the book seems to tell you to just let go.
Stop fighting the complexity of the book you’re reading and just give in to the
madness. Your willingness to go along and try new things will be rewarding.
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