/lit/ - Literature

Is Gravity’s Rainbow hard to read? I’m getting back to reading after a long lay off and I don’t want to start with anything too heavy. Got Gravity’s Rainbow for cheap at my local charity shop today though.

>>20775306

>>20739466
No lol

>>20726924

>>20722698
Sneed

>>20720576
Sneed

>>20706186

>Karl Marx, that sly old racist skipping away with his teeth together and his eyebrows up trying to make believe it's nothing but Cheap Labor and Overseas Markets

What did he mean by this?

>190iq
>6’2
>most mysterious man of 21st century
>greatest living author
>deeply connected with cia and ruling aristocracy
>fucked his best friend’s wife after being best man at wedding
im seething with jealousy bros, im literally subhuman compared to him

>>20701204
No

LOOK AT HIS LIPS HAHAHAHAHHA

>>18644529
>they
Who now?

>Yesterday happened to be a good day. They found a child, alive, a little girl, half-suffocated under a Morrison shelter. Waiting for the stretcher, Slothrop held her small hand, gone purple with the cold. Dogs barked in the street. When she opened her eyes and saw him her first words were, “Any gum, chum?” Trapped there for two days, gum-less—all he had for her was a Thayer’s Slippery Elm. He felt like an idiot. Before they took her off she brought his hand over to kiss anyway, her mouth and cheek in the flare lamps cold as frost, the city around them at once a big desolate icebox, stale-smelling and no surprises inside ever again. At which point she smiled, very faintly, and he knew that’s what he’d been waiting for, wow, a Shirley Temple smile, as if this exactly canceled all they’d found her down in the middle of. What a damn fool thing. He hangs at the bottom of his blood’s avalanche, 300 years of western swamp-Yankees, and can’t manage but some nervous truce with their Providence. A détente. Ruins he goes daily to look in are each a sermon on vanity. That he finds, as weeks wear on, no least fragment of any rocket, preaches how indivisible is the act of death . . . Slothrop’s Progress: London the secular city instructs him: turn any corner and he can find himself inside a parable.

Pynchon is just ironic Rabelais.
I just had this thought but I haven't read many books by Pynchon so I figured that I'd share to see what you think of it.

Which Pynchon novel should I start with?