/lit/ - Literature

i miss this lil nigga like you wouldnt believe

>>18164060
Take the banana pill instead

Pinecone

Marge Piercy, Dance the Eagle to Sleep
>Here is somebody with the guts to go into the deepest core of herself, her time, her history, and risk more than anybody else has so far, just out of love for the truth and a need to tell it. It's about time.

Don DeLillo, Mao II
>This novel's a beauty. DeLillo takes us on a breathtaking journey, beyond the official versions of our daily history, behind all easy assumptions about who we're supposed to be, with a vision as bold and a voice as eloquent and morally focused as any in American writing.

Peter Matthiessen, Far Tortuga
>I've enjoyed everything I've ever read by Matthiessen, and this novel is Matthiessen at his best-- a masterfully spun yarn, a little otherworldly, a dreamlike momentum . . . It's full of music and strong haunting visuals, and like everything of his, it's also a deep declaration of love for the planet. I wish him and it all kinds of fortune.

Richard Farina, Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me
>This book comes on like the Hallelujah Chorus done by 200 kazoo players with perfect pitch.

Steve Erickson, Days Between Stations
>Steve Erickson has that rare and luminous gift for reporting back from the nocturnal side of reality, along with an engagingly romantic attitude and the fierce imaginative energy of a born storyteller. It is good news when any of these qualities appear in a writer-- to find them all together in a first novelist is reason to break out the champagne and hors-d'oeuvres.

Jim Dodge, Stone Junction
>Here is American storytelling as tall as it is broadly imagined and deeply felt, exuberant with outlaw humor and honest magic. Reading Stone Junction is like being at a nonstop party in celebration of everything that matters.

Rudolph Wurlitzer, Nog
>Wow, this is some book, I mean it's more than a beautiful and heavy trip, it's also very important in an evolutionary way, showing us directions we could be moving in--hopefully another sign that the Novel of Bullshit is dead and some kind of re-enlightenment is beginning to arrive, to take hold. Rudolph Wurlitzer is really, really good, and I hope he manages to come down again soon, long enough anyhow to guide us on another one like 'Nog'.

James Hillman and Michael Ventura, We've Had A Hundred Years of Psycho Therapy And The World's Getting Worse
>This provocative, dangerous, and high-spirited conversation sounds like one that many of us have been holding with ourselves, more and less silently, as times have grown ever darker. Finally somebody has begun to talk out loud about what must change, and what must be left behind, if we are to navigate the perilous turn of this millenium and survive. For bravely lighting up these first beacons in the night, Ventura and Hillman deserve our thanks as well as our closest attention.

George Saunders, Civilwarland in Bad Decline : Stories and a Novella
>An astoundingly tuned voice - graceful, dark, authentic, and funny.

What are the best, most fascinating threads that this hellsite has ever produced? Like those Shakespeare threads that not-Pynchon appeared in?

>>>/lit/thread/S3039755

>boomer references
>muh california
>wacky comedy
WHOA this guy is really ZANY and CRAZY

Let’s get a master list of all the genre fiction he’s ever referenced, pastiched and parodied going. Sci fi, horror, mystery, romance, all of it.

>>17164780
At least you can look like him.

The way he writes is fucking annoying

Ayou saw wat u b sayn iz diz bani ess nigga izn'd eva ril?

>The ironclad wastes of the Eagles Nest atop Kehlsteinhaus was a portent to the Zone’s grip; 3rd Infantrymen flowing from the burned façade with whatever sensible treasures sans soot they could get their hands on. Slothrop sits on a tree trunk glaring at the mountainside air, hawks encircling above while fawns inspect craters below, mother deer projecting a plea to follow her, a bid away from the people and their Silly War… and the Spring seeps from all the hollowed streams underground, bestowing waters like the Styx for consumption to forget this terrible time… and the celebrations of hops fueling the carnal conquistadors, supposedly on the good side, unfurl into the unfolding sky, as clear now as the crystalline waters of some private beach where eyes cannot gaze upon the perdition of Men Of Folly—a chance flight out to cremate the care of pernicious beings. A net gain nowhere in sight to him. A dawning of some terrible truth… imagined marionette strings dangling from the fingertips of some gnarled sepulchral hands, placating the disgust of spilling viscera upon the green aisles of Europe, warding off the Angels, who now float, watching, stretched spread-eagle in the penumbra of the Moon, wallowing as their wings are clipped and their spinal fluid fills the space like plasma… the Farben techocrates, whose chants and sigils were spread across the Atlantic, can now feast upon five-course celebrations at black-tie events. The Burnt Offering accepted. All Theater. Terrible Theater.

What was his problem? Was he CIA? How did he know so much about the Argentines and the U-Boats? Did he smoke himself into insanity?

http://www.pynchon.pomona.edu/uncollected/blurbs.html

Books Thomas Pynchon wrote blurbs for

http://www.pynchon.pomona.edu/uncollected/blurbs.html

This isn’t a joke. If you think he’s too old to know what 4chan is, read Bleeding Edge, he’s got an autistic enough brain to always know ridiculous amounts about what’s going on in the world. He’s probably been on this board for a while and used it to promote his work, pick up that new generation. Do you think he hates DFW?

Is it just me or is /lit/ finally returning back to its old form? Maybe it's all the Pynchon threads reminding me of the past but it seems like there are a lot more fruitful or at least interesting discussions now than there were pre-election.

He will be missed!

Fuck. He will be missed!

"His pensive muscles alleviated when he finally gave to his captor’s struggle, to seize like a feral caught in the maw of a terrible beast’s an unsavory way to spend one’s final moments alive… but the terror now afflicting his neurons, a distress signal sent to frenzy the quartz within his heart to implode, pushes his system to do things he’s never done before—the skin flush, wet with sweat all of sudden, hot then cold, and his colon, careless to his plight, just unleashes… oh no, the dread tenfold… just so helpless, callow in the face as it contorts in pleads, images of youth… dragged through scenes of urbanite decay, concrete chipped by Lord knows what, urine-scent stabbing through his swollen nose, hallways and antechambers lacquered by the wet feet of comings-and-goings, lecherous red lights in iron-latticed fixtures. Slothrop’s crying. He’s regressing further… helpless as a dumbfounded college kid, new to a dorm, slightly confused by the seething testosterone he can feel in the air, in the shapes of those freshman lads, as they struggled so with their cardboard boxes, their pulsating forearms sure to be sore, and oh, the Big One… The Black One, the athlete, lean, the light just sliding off his wild skin-kissed complexion, and how he could throttle young Slothrop, deliver the impassioned might of the whole continent of Africa directly inside him: the bruteness, the brashness, the filth and dirt and smearing of sclera upon naked bodies in Bacchic rites, the sweet reverse colonization… helpless in the arms of these brutes."

HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. OH NONONONOO NONOONO NOOO! THIS IS YOUR "AMAZING WRITER"???? DUDE IS LITERALLY WRITING ABOUT BBC IN GRAVITY'S RAINBOW.
AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS MEME SHIT? IS PYNCHON JEWISH?

Is Pynchon a genius or a madman?

Is he Jewish?

>le banana
>my protagonist, Doofus McDingleberry
>wacky fun scat time
What's his major malfunction?

-So a regular hepcat, sez Slothrop.
Bodine lights a fag
-Much more than that, why he's...
Mr. Richard Smoker
Biddley bah boo, Biddley bah boo, Biddley bah boo bow!
Mister Richard smoker, you're a poopy poker
Chardonnay & cocaine in the spa
Cigarettes and coffee breath
Little boys on crystal meth
Tonight we'll tango in the street
You eat dark meat
Mister Richard smoker, you're a chicken choker
Tonight you're gonna let it all hang out
Pantyhose and Aqua-Net
Smoking menthol cigarettes
Tonight we'll tango in the street
You eat dark meat
Biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo bow!
Smoke!
You eat dark meat
Biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo bow!
Mister richard smoker, you're an Ono Yoker
Cognac and black coffee with the boys
Dancin' in your buster browns
Whirlin' to the techno sounds
Your hands are wet, your hair is slick
You smoke big dick
Mister Richard smoker, you're a velvet coker
Bruce and Geoff will pick you up at ten
Goin' out, dancin' in the city
Friday night, gotta look pretty
Tonight we'll tango in the street
You eat dark meat
Biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo bow!
Biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo bow, yeah!
Biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo bow, smoke!
Biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo, biddley bah boo bow!

RIP Thomas Pynchon
1937-2020
He will be missed!

Be thomas pynchon da best livin' author?