Absences in VL

[Sebastian Dangerfield]

Sebastian, who is spending his Monday morning at work catching up with
the weekend's mail extends thanks to Doug, Paul, Dave, rj, Peter, and
others for following up on my very tired musings of
late-inthe-day-Friday.  So nice to be able to spit out some half formed
thoughts at the end of the week and return to find an alchemical
transformation of them into intelligent discourse!

On Fri, 4 Dec 1998 16:44:13 -0800 David Casseres <casseres at apple.com>
writes:

>Though I think Pynchon is interested in de-romanticizing the 60's --
while at the same >time paying tribute to the romance that was -- I don't
think for a minute that 
>he's trying to debunk the anti-war effort, like certain ex-lefties from 
>that time who now make more money than Pynchon by telling the world How 
>Wrong We All Were.

A word of clarification.  I caertainly did not mean to suggest that
Pynchon engaged in the kind of repudiation of the antiwar movement (or
any of the other major political upheavals of the period--notable the
civil rights movement) a la the likes of Podhoretz, Glazer, and Kramer
(nor did I mean to suggest in any way that my own inconsequential opinion
was thus).  The gap, if gap there is, between David and I is quite slim
indeed.  I think the de-romanticization going on is a demystification of
the Era and not an aspersion on those who earnestly sought--and arguably
procured--an earlier end to senseless military intervention.

Paul writes:

>Pynchon probably reasoned that he'd have to pretty well abstract the 60s
>from the Vietnam War in order not to swamp the rest of the action in VL.
>Sort of like he did by ignoring the Holocaust and the real WW II--a
>dangerous and bloody conflict--from GR. Artistic perogotive.

and Peter:

>I think that the Vietnam/movement experience many of us had is so
>highly charged, that the few direct references, and the key presence of
>Blood and Vato is enough.

I agree entirely, and certainly did not mean to imply that the absence
was a complaint.  That absence (or "space" or even to get ridiculously
trendy "aporia") is an artistic figure, and a rather powerful one at
that.  

That said, I think at times, the novel reads like a jeremiad against a
particular contingent of the counterculture (to use a tired and clumsy
term), what Bekker described as

> those peripherally attached to the anti-war movement via the
drug/hippie scene >rather than the anti-war thing itself.

For these folks, Pynchon seems to have more than a little scorn, though
he's made them the centerpiece of the book, humanized them.  In this vein
 it's worth noting that around the paragraph that deals with BV's
"genius" (and who is talking here, exactly?), BV's sidekick/old timer
colleague (whose name eludes me) points out to him that there are true
believers, genuinely committed, astute types who cannot so easily be
reprogramed or bought off.  It certainly is not so simple a story as
politicos = good, virtuous, committed and hippies = bad, easily
corruptible, latent conspicuous consumers, but the distinction is
present, and there does seem to be an authorial judgment of a kind that
befits a Puritan at heart (or at least it seems that a readerly judgment
along those lines is facilitated by the text).  

If you'll forgive the pompousness, the line from _Gerontion_ that this
part of VL made me think of ("After such knowledge, what foregiveness?")
is part of a poetic passage that is, I think, very appropriate:

	After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now                       
                                          
          	History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors        
                                                         
          	And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,               
                                                
          	Guides us by vanities. Think now                              
                                   
          	She gives when our attention is distracted                    
                                             
          	And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions         
                                                        
          	That the giving famishes the craving. Gives too late          
                                                       
          	What's not believed in, or if still believed,                 
                                              
          	In memory only, reconsidered passion. Gives too soon          
                                                       
          	Into weak hands, what's thought can be dispensed with         
                                                        
          	Till the refusal propagates a fear. Think                     
                                            
          	Neither fear nor courage saves us. Unnatural vices            
                                                     
          	Are fathered by our heroism. Virtues                          
                                     
          	Are forced upon us by our impudent crimes.
	These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree.

Sebastian
(A dull head among windy spaces)
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