eGad: Pynchon excerpt from new novel (fwd)

[davemarc]

The excerpt is for real. (The words are all there, but purists should take
note that the transcription--understandably--lacks italics and those "upside
down" exclamation marks used in Spanish.)

Thanks to Robot Vegetable and Erik Burns and, of course, Steven Moore for
sharing!

d. (who enjoyed the excerpt)


----- Original Message -----
From: the Robot Vegetable <veg at dvandva.org>
To: <pynchon-l at waste.org>
Sent: Thursday, August 03, 2006 5:16 PM
Subject: eGad: Pynchon excerpt from new novel (fwd)


> ---------- Forwarded message ----------
> Date: Thu, 3 Aug 2006 16:53:23 -0400
> From: Steven Moore <smoore3 at worldnet.att.net>
> Reply-To: gaddis-l at yahoogroups.com
> To: gaddis-l at yahoogroups.com
> Subject: eGad: Pynchon excerpt from new novel
>
> 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.