AGAINST THE DAY
This time, our setting lies mostly in the decades before WWI, a world
(evidently) full of gypsies, anarchists, private detectives,
photographers, quick guns, magicians, vector theorists, dynamiters, and
(here with a flying dirigible full of loose narrative structure, more
than we can carry folks, why don't you have some, dear reader, you do
seem so pleasant) the Chums of Chance, an adventurous group of boys who
travel the world in a flying ship, solving mysteries and rectifying
wrongs, whose various explorations begin and indeed string together the
novel.
In the comparison it begs to Gravity's Rainbow, however, it seems,
though much longer, a little lacking. When your faithful reviewer read
GR, he was spurred each time by the ending to begin the book again, and
over a period of many months found nearly endless entertainment and
comfort in this eternal textual return. It could be the dissolution of
the main character (in a geographic, narrative, as well as [arguably]
literal sense) managed to create such a profound emptiness it spurs the
reader to return to page one, where, poof! there he is again, corporeal
by this time, almost, as one's neighbor or aunt. Or, perhaps, simply
the sparkle of the narrative. AGAINST THE DAY, however, fails to
inspire similar impulses. One cannot say quite why. If this is your
kind of thing, set aside a month or three and settle in for some of the
best modern fiction has to offer. If you generally find Pynchon's
style overwhelming, however, flee, and quickly -- for time-traveling
dirigiblists will be hot on your heels.. --Kenton deAngeli |