Inherent Vice
Ratings77
Average rating3.9
Fun book – I really enjoyed Inherent Vice. Will have to try to tackle some of Pynchon's other, tougher books that I haven't read yet.
Fun book – I really enjoyed Inherent Vice. Will have to try to tackle some of Pynchon's other, tougher books that I haven't read yet.
A psychedelic pulp detective novel set in 1960s Los Angeles, featuring a hilarious cast of characters who Pynchon delights in playing off one another. One of the funniest books of recent times, offering great comedy in its cultural and historical references, wordplay, situations, and structure. The central mystery comes very close to being masterfully constructed and executed but lacks a truly satisfying conclusion, but it's about the journey and not the destination.
One sentence synopsis... Private investigator and well-intentioned hippie, ‘Doc' Sportello, cruises through LA amidst a creeping fog of paranoia... and marijuana. .
Read it if you like... the preeminent atoned mystery, ‘The Big Lebowski'. Pynchon has a lot more to say about capitalism and inequality, but both stories are full of likable weirdos. .
Dream casting... watched the PTA movie version post-reading and probably enjoyed it more than the book. The movie trims a lot of the fat, including a rather exasperating detour to Vegas I was thankful got cut.
Reading this immediately after watching Once Upon a Time in Hollywood left my mind in summer of ‘69 and its cultural effect on the years following for a few weeks. Both Doc & Bigfoot are perfect characterizations of both sides of the Hippy/Square continuum.
Following the plot can be a little hazy at times but I found it thoroughly enjoyable.
“middle of a sustained cloudburst. This was way too unnatural. Ahead, someplace over Pasadena, black clouds had gathered, not just dark gray but midnight black, tar-pit black, hitherto-unreported-circle-of-Hell black. Lightning bolts had begun to descend across the L.A. Basin singly and in groups, followed by deep, apocalyptic peals of thunder. Everybody had turned their headlights on, though it was midday. Water came rushing down the hillsides of Hollywood, sweeping mud, trees, bushes, and many of the lighter types of vehicle on down into the flatlands. After hours of detouring for landslides and traffic jams and accidents, Doc and Shasta finally located the mystically revealed dope dealers address, which turned out to be an empty lot with a gigantic excavation in it, between a laundromat and an Orange Julius-plus-car wash, all of them closed. In the thick mist and lashing rain, you couldn't even see to the other side of the hole.
“Hey. I thought there was supposed to be a lot of dope around here.”
What Sortilege had tried to point out about Ouija boards, as Doc learned later back at the beach, while wringing out his socks and looking for a[...]”
the doc abides, somewhere out there under the blankets of fog rolling along the bedrock of the valley
Re-read in late July and early Aug 2014 in preparation for the movie!! Better than the first time around (one-star improvement).
—
‰ЫПThe state liquor stamps over the tops of tequila bottles in the stores were coming unstuck, is how dry the air was. Liquor-store owners could be filling those bottles with anything anymore. Jets were taking off the wrong way from the airport, the engine sounds were not passing across the sky where they should have, so everybody‰ЫЄs dreams got disarranged, when people could get to sleep at all. In the little apartment complexes the wind entered narrowing to whistle through the stairwells and ramps and catwalks, and the leaves of the palm trees outside rattled together with a liquid sound, so that from inside, in the darkened rooms, in louvered light, it sounded like a rainstorm, the wind raging in the concrete geometry, the palms beating together like the rush of a tropical downpour, enough to get you to open the door and look outside, and of course there‰ЫЄd only be the same hot cloudless depth of day, no rain in sight.‰Ыќ