GR translation: sugar faces
Bled Welder
bledwelder at gmail.com
Sun Mar 3 05:04:43 CST 2013
They're not anything, Mike.
To understand Pynchon, you have to understand that someone is telling
you a story whereby reality doesn't particularly exist.
On Sun, Mar 3, 2013 at 12:03 AM, Mike Jing
<gravitys.rainbow.cn at gmail.com> wrote:
> P254.21 Here Slothrop stages a brilliant Commando raid, along with
> faithful companion Blodgett Waxwing, on Shell Mex House itself—right into
> the heart of the Rocket’s own branch office in London. Mowing down platoons
> of heavy security with his little Sten, kicking aside nubile and screaming
> WRAC secretaries (how else is there to react, even in play?), savagely
> looting files, throwing Molotov cocktails, the Zoot-suit Zanies at last
> crashing into the final sanctum with their trousers up around their armpits,
> smelling of singed hair, spilled blood, to find not Mr. Duncan Sandys
> cowering before their righteousness, nor open window, gypsy flight,
> scattered fortune cards, nor even a test of wills with the great Consortium
> itself—but only a rather dull room, business machines arrayed around the
> walls calmly blinking, files of cards pierced frail as sugar faces, frail as
> the last German walls standing without support after the bombs have been and
> now twisting high above, threatening to fold down out of the sky from the
> force of the wind that has blown the smoke away. . . .
>
> What are "sugar faces"?
>
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