Pynchon mention

[pynchonoid]

http://www.zwire.com/site/news.cfm?newsid=7150823&BRD=1281&PAG=461&dept_id=7563&rfi=6

Bob Mentzinger: The scarlet letters: ‘50% off!’
February 23, 2003

Guilt and reading are not normally associated with one
another — unless you happen to be peeking between the
shrink-wrap at something glossy inside your nearest
7-Eleven. 

So when I was asked to confess my most "guilty
pleasure" in books, I was taken a bit aback. The only
thing most of us are "guilty" of when it comes to
books is simply not reading enough books … any books. 
But two Achilles heels I have — admitting none of the
culpability the assignment seems to call for — are
trolling for remainders and rereading old favorites.
(Sorry, there’s no Jackie Collins or Tom Clancy on
this shelf.)

Remainders are the lost orphans of the publishing
world. A remainder is something like being an Iraqi
exile: noble, but painful nonetheless. You see them on
the big tables in the front of the store next to the
Dilbert calendars and extension-school missalettes,
bearing their scarlet letters ("50% off!"). Such a
book often conceals a press release betraying its
identity as some book editor’s abandoned review copy
(OK, guilty as charged). 

It’s like going to the animal shelter for books: "Free
to good homes!" Discovering a find among the
remainders isn’t as difficult as it might seem, given
the brutal economics of today’s publishing world.
Sure, there’ll be some George Foreman cookbooks and
books about (maybe even by) O.J. Simpson. Keep
looking. Ironically, more books end up here by virtue
of being weighty and significant than for their poor
literary quality. 

An example for me was an acquisition three years ago,
in a very fine shop called Vertigo in Washington,
D.C., of Thomas Pynchon’s "Mason & Dixon," the 1997
historical novel by one of America’s true postmodern
masters. At 983 pages, and written in English dialect
typical of the American Revolutionary period, this
hardcover is like bug spray for the Oprah’s Book Club
set. And while not Pynchon’s best work, it’s a
monumental tribute to what a novel can do. Price: $8.
It took me seven months to finish it. (Well,
two-thirds of it. Guilty again.) 

The point is: Pynchon has always been one of my
favorite authors. But his predilection for fractal
syntax and his love of language drained like water
through the sieve of the American reading public.
Remainders are for the astute and savvy reader to be
there with his catch basin, waiting ... to cheat the
author out of half his normal royalty. (Guilty
again.)[...]


...too bad about the page count...

-Doug



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