Against the Day

‰ЫПAs nights went on and nothing happened and the phenomenon slowly faded to the accustomed deeper violets again, most had difficulty remembering the earlier rise of heart, the sense of overture and possibility, and went back once again to seeking only orgasm, hallucination, stupor, sleep, to fetch them through the night and prepare them against the day.‰Ыќ

Just over 800 pages in and I'm calling it read. I am done with Against the Day, done with Pynchon.

I really enjoyed the first two thirds of the book, there is never a dull moment, if it's not the plot (yes, there is plenty of plot) it's the characters and references to hundreds of historical and literary events that keep the pages turning.

My problem with it came towards the end. Apparently Pynchon got hornier and kinkier as he wrote the book because after 500 or 600 pages every other chapter is peppered with sexual encounters. That, in and of itself, isn't enough to turn me away, I've got nothing against sex, quite the contrary, but the way Pynchon writes about it I found to be repulsive. There is no love, no romance, it's porn. Not my thing.

So, I'm done with Pynchon, The Crying Lot of 49 notwithstanding. The man is brilliant, the writing is fascinating but there are only so many hours in the day and so many days in a life and my “to read” list is long enough for me to forget about him and this book forever.