Katsuya, December 28, 2012 (view all comments by Katsuya)
I really enjoyed this book and think that anyone who likes Elmore Leonard or Raymond Chandler would find this book a blast. It also could be the book for all of you interested in social history; with a need to find out what caused something to turn from a dream into now a nightmare.
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Ryan Carter, April 22, 2010 (view all comments by Ryan Carter)
I keep falling asleep (this is in no way a reflection on the book. I just happen to pick it up late at night) while reading this, but I'm pretty sure it enhances the whole" Whoa, I'm a stoner...what's happening?" vibe Doc has going for him.
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Donald Hackett, January 14, 2010 (view all comments by Donald Hackett)
So what if Pynchon is imitating himself. So what if the story sags about two-thirds of the way through. So what if I keep seeing the protagonist as Freewheeling Frank from The Furry Freak Brothers. So what if it's not Wolf Hall, Lark and Termite, Tinkers, or 2666. So what if I'm a victim of hippy nostalgia--wanting to remember being that high, that much sex, or adventures that interesting.
This book made me laugh at the madness of the world we live in--the same madness that made me want to cry in 2666, but seen from the other side of the mirror. Paranoia is heightened awarenss.
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igloohappening, September 19, 2009 (view all comments by igloohappening)
I may be in the minority but I found it pitch-perfect & brilliant/Evokes Martin Cruz Smith & his parade of terminally confused Muscovites/Except stir in some blue cheer & meth with that vodka/Et voila Thomas Cruzin' Pynchon.
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I'm no pro from Dover, but I think that there are as many ways of looking at a work by Pynchon as he has storylines in each book. Inherent Vice is definitely one of the more approachable works by a guy who can have the reader wading hip-deep through unbelievably complex prose on one hand and up to your nose in Indica, weapons, and cartoonish character names on the other. On a general level, it'd be easy to say it's closely akin to the other "California" pieces (The Crying of Lot 49 and Vineland), much more so than the sprawling tomes of Against the Day or Mason and Dixon (for page count alone — phew!) or the byzantine plots of V and Gravity's Rainbow.
If I cut out every third word from Inherent Vice and paste it into another book, I'd come up with Cheech and Chong's encyclopedia of '70s L.A. Now I cut out every second word and I have a post-retro-détournement of a serpentine, techie noir, William Gibson-esque thriller. And what I'm left with reminds me of the resonant emotion, individuality, and very personal tone of the likes of Haruki Murakami. But, ultimately, Pynchon's voice is always his own.
by Jeff G.
by O Magazine,
"[Pynchon] applies language to what we know and all we've missed — giving new shape to both....The book is exuberant, delightfully evocative of its era, and very funny."
"[M]aster writer Pynchon has created a bawdy, hilarious, and compassionate electric-acid-noir satire spiked with passages of startling beauty."
by New Yorker,
"[A] slightly spoofy take on hardboiled crime fiction, a story in which the characters smoke dope and watch Gilligan's Island instead of sitting around a night club knocking back J&Bs."
by Library Journal,
"With whip-smart, psychedelic-bright language, Pynchon manages to convey the Sixties — except the Sixties were never really like this. This is Pynchon's world, and it's brilliant."
"Inherent Vice feels fizzily spontaneous — like a series of jazz solos, scenes, and conversations built around little riffs of language."
Part noir, part psychedelic romp, and all Pynchon, Inherent Vice spotlights private eye Doc Sportello who occasionally comes out of a marijuana haze to watch the end of an era, as the free love of the 1960s slips away and paranoia creeps in with the L.A. fog.
Four interlocking novellas (and twenty footnotes) form a richly comic Pynchonesque feast about love, academia, an elusive Tibetan novelist who might be a plagiarizer, and SOFA, a mysterious protest group whose very initials are ambiguous.
Four interlocking narratives set in four American cities form a richly comic feast about love, academia, an elusive Tibetan novelist—and SOFA, a protest group so mysterious its very initials are open to interpretation.
Bad Teeth follows a cast of young literary men and women, each in a period of formation, in four very American cities—Brooklyn, Bloomington, Berkeley, and Bakersfield. A Pynchonesque treat, its four (or more) books in one: a bohemian satire, a campus comedy, a stoners reverie, and a quadruple love story. The plots coalesce around the search for a mysterious author, Jigme Drolma (“the Tibetan David Foster Wallace”), who might in fact be a plagiarist. But how does the self-styled arch-magician Nicholas Bendix figure into this? What will happen when SOFA unleashes the “Apocalypse”? And whats to become of Lump, the cat?
Unabridged CDs ? 13 CDs, 15 hours
Part noir, part psychedelic romp, all Thomas Pynchon-private eye Doc Sportello comes, occasionally, out of a marijuana haze to watch the end of an era as free love slips away and paranoia creeps in with the L. A. fog.
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