Prising some Character and Emotion out of Pynchon's Books

[Robin Landseadel]

On Jul 25, 2009, at 8:36 PM, Michael Bailey wrote:

> Emotions and Characters in Pynchon
> a personal rumination . . .

The correct answer is, of course, the Proverb for Paranoids #3:

	"If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have
	to worry about answers."

Character and emotion in Pynchon are nowhere near as important as  
humor and the usual plethora of paranoid systems. Rube Goldberg  
mechanisms of control and escape from control—or, more often,  the  
illusion of escape from control—is a larger issue than "will Roger get  
the girl?" because we already know he won't.  We knew 400 pages ago  
that Roger's heart was going to be crushed, but we have to move on to  
pinworm preserves and afterbirth appetizers.

On Jul 24, 2009, at 10:32 AM, Campbel Morgan wrote:

> Chrarterization: the means authors employ to show and tell the reader
> what characters are like.
>
> At its simplest: WHat characters say, do or fail to do, think, feel,
> dream, and descriptions of the character.

One reason why these sorts of standards and practices really don't  
apply to Pynchon the way they do to other authors, is that Pynchon is  
more interested in other issues. That's what happens when, in your  
heart of hearts, you are a scientist. Where does the strange force of  
Impolex G end and Slothrop's carnal desires begin? Is history  
statistical or driven by charismatic leaders? If one has a "Gnostic"  
experience, can it really be the voice of the demi-urge and what do  
you do when you've figured out that the voice in your head is out to  
destroy you? And when do you know that the voice in your head has  
given you a great gift? How can you be sure, one way or the other?  
What do you do when it seems like "everything connects," and even more  
important—what do you do when you know nothing connects and somehow  
you know it never will? To what extant are our feelings and emotions  
determined by place and time—by the local environment—rather than by  
the mechanisms of our "souls"? And "can I make a joke or pun out of it  
at the same time these other questions are being asked?"

Pynchon knows the art of setting up a joke, of working out just how  
long you need to do it, just how much you can get away with it & when  
to end it. This is a rare skill, one few authors of any stripe have,  
one at which Pynchon excels, one the Po-Mo Pynchon lit-crit industry  
will never acknowledge or understand because, frankly, they can't take  
a joke. And spending time rounding characters just gets in the way of  
the development of these jokes, which is the primary reason that  
Pynchon doesn't spend as much time developing rounded characters as  
playing with them.

Pynchon's too busy determining the calculus of Road Runner cartoons,  
figuring out just how long to leave Wile E. Coyote hanging in mid-air,  
noting how many times he looks up and down, how many eye-blinks before  
he falls, how long the fall & how much dust to raise when the coyote  
finally hits the dry gulch at the bottom of the canyon. Even though  
the inevitable merging of D.L. & Takeshi as soul mates in their "cheap  
romance" is built into the spine of Vineland, our takeaway is their  
banter, the humor of their relationship, not their romance. That is  
where Pynchon puts his thought, energy and skills. You may think  
that's heartless, but that's what he does and to tell the truth,  
nobody else does it better. When he does deliver characters that move  
us—as in Mason & Dixon—the comparably few moments of tenderness and  
emotional expression are surrounded by the vibrant, humorous fabric of  
their day-to-day lives. That interleaving  makes the ultimate effect  
all the more powerful.