MMM / thanks! / NP TR and DFW

[David Gentle]

> Aarrgghh.  I started reading it and burned out a few hundred pages
> into its thousands and thousands of fucking pages.  Reported this to
> the list (this was years ago) and complained that although it was
> brilliant, and funny, and scary, and full of wonderful gags that I
> would die to have thought up myself, it simply had no nutritional
> value whatsoever.  Gobble gobble, gobble, but still hungry.  Fuck it.
> And then someone on the list beat me up about it so I found read the
> ENTIRE SEVEN MILLION FUCKING PAGES, only to reach the same fucking
> conclusion all over again.
>
> It just goes to show that one may be as brilliant as the day is long,
> and still be fucking worthless.  It is what sets our man Pynchon apart
> from legions of tireless and brilliant and fucking worthless
> postmodern novelists, who may or may not be his followers, or his
> rivals, or his cohort, or whateverthefuck they may seem to be.
> Pynchon, like the late postmodern bluesman John Fahey, has a
> connection to some real substance that can move one and put meat on
> one's ribs, above and beyond all the great finger-work.
>
> OK, done ranting.
>
Try reading it as a book about how drugs derail peoples lives. Including the 
life of the book. A book that should be a satire of North American 
consumerist attutudes to sport and entertainment is dominated and overthrown 
by the characters drug habits.

DG