Re: BEER: Ch. 8—SCrying

[Fiona Shnapple]

We notice that Maxine departs from an encounter with a Man whose
paranoia warps his palate (80) and heads to the Flatiron District.

Cut from Wikipedia:

The designation "Flatiron District" for this area is of relatively
recent vintage, dating from around 1985, and came about because of its
increasingly residential character, and the influx of many restaurants
into the area – real estate agents needed an appealing name to call
the area in their ads. Before that, the area was primarily commercial,
with numerous small clothing and toy manufacturers, and was sometimes
called the Toy District. The Toy Center buildings at 23rd Street and
Broadway date from this period, and the annual American International
Toy Fair took place there beginning in 1903, except for 1945. When
much of this business moved outside the U.S., the area began to be
referred to as the Photo District because of the large number of
photographers' studios and associated businesses located there, the
photographers having come because of the relatively cheap rents.  As
of the 2000s, many publishers have their offices in the district, as
well as advertising agencies, and the number of computer- and
Web-related start-up companies in the area caused it to be considered
part of "Silicon Alley" or "Multimedia Gulch", along with TriBeCa and
SoHo, although this usage declined considerably after the dot.com
bubble burst.

As Monte has pointed out we need to pay close attention to the Real
Estate. And, as we all know, naming, and the act of naming are quite
significant in Pynchon's works, and BE is no exception.

The Flatiron Building, as I've pointed out, is juxtaposed with the
Towers that are taken down on 9-11. More on this as we read on.

Robin's perceptive reading of the bladder magic is critical to what
goes down here. She is up at the Queensboro Bridge (aka 59th street
bridge, and now Ed Koch Bridge). In the famous 59th Street Bridge Song
we are told to slow down....we move too fast. Indeed, we are all here
particles shot through the Henry Adams theory of history.  Well, the
bridge, now named after Mayor Koch, was built back with the Flatiron.
Iron. Yes, Iron. Not coal, steal, oil, but iron. Built by Iron
Workers. Iron workers who build with iron and use dynamite to send a
message:

http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=F10F10FD3B5517738DDDAA0A94DC405B818DF1D3

Down to the Flatiron she goes, not to meet a Man but a Woman. As Robin
noted, when we contrast Maxine with Oedipa we can get a sense of how
Pynchon has invested his mature vision in the latter. So into the
ladies lavatory where they sit side by side and discuss not bleeding.
Maxine comes to comfort and pee, and for other magical purposes she
can only sense a shimmer of. She will meet with the melancholic not
menstruating, Oedipa, the Crying Girl of another pLot now here to help
her cut "out the middleman (83) by pissing and not "opening a vein"
and so there is "no blood coming from under the doors" and there is no
uncontrollable sobbing. So maybe this isn't Oedipa's daughter, grand
daughter even. But there in the confessional here, through the stall,
a start, a part in the opening  of the "unsold pilot",  a message
deep, and perhaps no less cryptic than the palimpsest on the wall, but
let is screed and let its fecundity flow freely. The Ladies in the
lavatory are artists, authors of Her-story. And the V-ness of the
Flatiron has spread her iron thighs deep under the city in shadows of
the Tower.
-
Pynchon-l / http://www.waste.org/mail/?list=pynchon-l