IVIV Pynchon's beautiful prose

[alice wellintown]

It's impossible to read the passage quoted here and not see that this
work is a return to earlier Pynchon; not Gravity's Rainbow, not even
Lot49 or V., nor even a return to the great apprentice's short story,
The Secret Intergration, but to the Slow Learners; this is T.S.
Eliot's rattle in the palms, liquid, rain, rain, rain that never falls
over this dirty town where the yellow fog creeps over the paving
stones as a thousand shuttered rooms raise louvers and Hemingway's
rain that floods and kills and brings the cholera and syphilis and the
dead baby at the end of the Farewell to Arms.

Crap, for the most part.

On Sun, Feb 7, 2010 at 11:05 AM, Doug Millison <dougmillison at comcast.net> wrote:
> This review managed to find some beauty in IV.  There's more of it in there,
> imo, in a novel where Pynchon pulls many threads that dangle from his
> earlier work.  Like Robin I'm happy to continue to read and ponder this
> novel.
> "The leaves of the palm trees outside rattled together with a liquid sound,
> so that from inside, in the darkened rooms, in louvred light, it sounded
> like a rainstorm, the wind raging in the concrete geometry, the palms
> beating together like the rush of a tropical downpour, enough to get you to
> open the door and look outside, and of course there'd only be the same hot
> cloudless depth of day, no rain in sight."
> http://waste.org/mail/?list=pynchon-l&month=1002&msg=147326&sort=date
>