GR translation: magenta firths running comblike into jagged comicbook-orange chunks of island

[Mike Jing]

Thanks, Jochen.  I did figure as much a bit later, but it's always good to
be reassured.

On Wed, Sep 2, 2015 at 3:54 AM, jochen stremmel <jstremmel at gmail.com> wrote:

> Just a normal comb, the firths his teeth, running into chunks of island, I
> would say, not the strangest simile in Pynchon's store.
>
> 2015-09-02 8:13 GMT+02:00 Mike Jing <gravitys.rainbow.cn at gmail.com>:
>
>> V634.27-38  . . . it is costing Rózsavölgyi an effort to stay in this
>> shadowcorner. It is not, at all, his sort of place. For one thing, the rest
>> of the room seems to be at more of a distance, as through the view-finder
>> on a camera. And the walls—they don’t appear to be . . . well, solid,
>> actually. They flow: a coarse, a viscous passage, rippling like a standing
>> piece of silk or nylon, the color watery gray but now and then with a
>> surprise island in the flow, some color absolutely foreign to this room:
>> saffron spindles, palm-green ovals, magenta firths running comblike into
>> jagged comicbook-orange chunks of island as the wounded fighter-plane
>> circles, jettisons the tanks, then the silver canopy, sets the flaps to
>> just above a stall, wheels up as the blue (suddenly, such a violent blue!)
>> rushes in just before impact throttle closed uhhnnhh!
>>
>> What kind of comb does it mean here in "comblike"?
>>
>
>
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