V-2nd - 2: clocks and mirrors
Mark Kohut
markekohut at yahoo.com
Tue Jun 29 18:57:24 CDT 2010
I do think that the image of the mirror splitting the sun means---learned via
google search on the phrase---mirror splitting the sun's light and sending the
image off in a different direction not straight back............read the
extended
sentence this way and judge for yourself.........................
wikipedia mirrors a definition of mirror image:
If a point of an object has coordinates (x, y,z) then the image of this point
(as reflected from the mirror in y, z plane) has coordinates (-x, y,z) - so
mirror reflection is a reversal of the coordinate axis perpendicular to the
mirror's surface. Thus, a mirror image does not have reversed right and left (or
up and down), but rather reversed front and back. The left-right reversal of the
mirror image only holds in relation a normal (i.e. unreflected) picture that we
see in front of us; see schematic illustration at the right. For instance, if we
look at a picture or object in our hand and then turn it towards a mirror, the
picture and thus its mirror reflection have made a left-to-right 'flip over' of
180 degrees. The same principle holds when we stand with our back towards the
mirror and face a picture or object in front of the mirror, and then compare it
with its reflection by turning our head or body 180 degrees towards the mirror.
It is thus not the mirror itself, but our own relative position and viewing
point that has caused the apparent left-to-right reversal.
A mirror image appears three-dimensional if the observer moves. This is because
the relative position of objects changes as the observer's perspective
changes.[1]
----- Original Message ----
From: "kelber at mindspring.com" <kelber at mindspring.com>
To: pynchon-l at waste.org
Sent: Tue, June 29, 2010 4:43:54 PM
Subject: V-2nd - 2: clocks and mirrors
After the off-putting navy-boy antics and human-car love scene in Chapter One,
here's what Chapter Two offers:
Pages 40-41 (Harper Perennial)
"Directly across the room from Rachel was a mirror, hung high on the wall, and
under the mirror a shelf which held a turn-of-the-century clock. The double
face was suspended by four golden flying buttresses above a maze of works,
enclosed in clear Swedish lead glass. The pendulum didn't swing back and forth
but was in the form of a disc, parallel to the floor and driven by a shaft which
paralleled the hands at six o'clock. The disc turned a quarter-revolution one
way, then a quarter-revolution the other, each reversed torsion on the shaft
advancing the escapement a notch. Mounted on the disc were two imps or demons,
wrought in gold, posed in fantastic attitudes. Their movements were reflected
in the mirror along with the window at Rachel's back, which extended from floor
to ceiling and revealed the branches and green needles of a pine tree. The
branches whipped back and forth in the February wind, ceaseless and shimmering,
and in front of them the two demons performed their metronomic dance, beneath a
vertical array of golden gears and ratchet wheels, levers and springs which
gleamed warm and gay as any ballroom chandelier.
Rachel was looking into the mirror at an angle of 45 degrees, and so had a view
of the face turned toward the room and the face on the other side, reflected in
the mirror; here were time and reverse-time, co-existing, cancelling one another
exactly out. Were there many such reference points, scattered through the
world, perhaps only at nodes like this room which housed a transient population
of the imperfect, the dissatisfied; did real time plus virtual or mirror-time
equal zero and thus serve some half-understood moral purpose? Or was it only
the mirror world that counted; only a promise of a kind that the inward bow of a
nose-bridge or a promontory of extra cartilage at the chin meant a reversal of
ill fortune such that the world of the altered would thence-forth run on
mirror-time; work and love by mirror-light and be only, till death stopped the
heart's ticking (the metronome's music) quietly as light ceases to vibrate, an
imp's dance under the century's own chandeliers ..."
This is why we obsess over Pynchon, is it not? Intricate passages, not always
so easy to parse, that sends our minds in multiple directions. There may have
been a few in his Slow Learner collection, but this is certainly the first and
finest that the world got to sample.
V. is full of mirror and clock and clock-in-mirror imagery. The story opens
with the elaborate sun sliced by a mirror image (although I still have
difficulty with that one: I understand the image of the sun bisected by a
plane, but if that plane is a mirror, embedded in the sun, what's being
reflected where?). Later, one of the V. versions will have a false eye with a
clock imprinted on it. What does she see when she looks at the clock in the
mirror?
The above description of the mechanized clock certainly sends me on flights of
fancy. But Pynchon's emphasizing the mechanistic aspects - the demons have no
free will, on this side of the mirror, at any rate.
The mirror reflects the mechanized clock with its pre-determined demons, but
also the tree outside the window, moving with apparent freedom in the wind. Do
these images of not-free and free cancel each other out in the mirror world.
Proposed: Clocks in Pynchon=mechanistic=lack of free will = bad.
Mirrors=good? They're rigid glass (owlglass?) but silvered over so that they
invite us to escape into other realms. Are they free will or just a passage to
free will?
Laura
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