eGad: Pynchon excerpt from new novel

[Paul Mackin]

Sounds like it's patterned after the pulp-western writing  style used  
in Forbes Parkhill's "the Kenosha Kid."

Colorado locale as well.



On Aug 3, 2006, at 4:53 PM, Steven Moore wrote:

> The new Penguin Press catalog has an excerpt from Pynchon's  
> "Against the Day," which I thought I'd transcribe for you:
>
> Back in 1899, not long after the terrible cyclone that year which  
> devastated the town, Young Willis Turnstone, freshly credentialed  
> from the American School of Osteopathy, had set out westward from  
> Kirksville, Missouri, with a small grip holding a change of  
> personal linen, an extra shirt, a note of encouragement from Dr. A.  
> T. Still, and an antiquated Colt in whose use he was far from  
> practiced, arriving at length in Colorado, where one day riding  
> across the Uncompahgre plateau he was set upon by a small band of  
> pistoleros. "Hold it right there, Miss, let's have a look at what's  
> in that attractive valise o'yours."
>     "Not much," said Willis.
>     "Hey, what's this? Packing some iron here! Well, well, never  
> let it be said Jimmy Drop and his gang denied a tender soul a fair  
> shake now, little lady, you just grab ahold of your great big  
> pistol and we'll get to it, shall we." The others had cleared a  
> space which Willis and Jimmy now found themselves alone at either  
> end of, in classic throwdown posture. "Go on ahead, don't be shy,  
> I'll give you ten seconds gratis, 'fore I draw. Promise." Too dazed  
> to share entirely the gang's spirit of innocent fun, Willis slowly  
> and inexpertly raised his revolver, trying to aim it as straight as  
> a shaking pair of hands would allow. After a fair count of ten,  
> true to his word and fast as a snake, Jimmy went for his own  
> weapon, had it halfway up to working level before abruptly coming  
> to a dead stop, frozen into an ungainly crouch. "Oh, pshaw!" the  
> badman screamed, or words to that effect.
>     "Ay! Jefe, jefe," cried his lieutenant Alfonsito, "tell us it  
> ain' your back again."
>     "Damned idiot, o' course it's my back. Oh mother of all  
> misfortune--and worst than last time too."
>     "I can fix that," offered Willis.
>     "Beg your pardon, what in hell business of any got-damn  
> pinkinroller'd this be, again?"
>     "I know how to loosen that up for you. Trust me, I'm an  
> osteopath."
>     "It's O.K., we're open-minded, couple boys in the outfit are  
> evangelicals, just watch where you're putting them lilywhites now-- 
> yaaagghh--I mean, huh?"
>     "Feel better?"
>     "Holy Toledo," straightening up, carefully but pain-free.
>     "Why, it's a miracle."
>     "Gracias a Dios!" screamed the dutiful Alfonsito.
>     "Obliged," Jimmy guessed, sliding his pistol back in its holster.
>
>
>
> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
>
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