Friday, August 28, 2009

Thomas Pynchon rewrites White Noise in one hundred words or less.

The other man tightened his lips, frowning. "Mh-hmm." He returned to his computer game, something called "Nukey," which included elements of sex and detonation, though the cheapness of its early sound chips reduced orgasm to a thin rising whine, broken into segments as if for breath, and made the presumably nuclear explosions, no more than symbolized here by feeble bursts of white noise, even less satisfying.

SRSLY, I'm rereading Vineland right now, and it just becomes more and more apparent to me how ludicrous the notion is that DeLillo is more or less on the same plane as Pynchon. DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE.

P can casually toss off something like this without bothering to look over his shoulder to see whether you are cognizant of how HOLY SHIT THE MOST SUPER-PROFOUNDEST THING EVAR it is. He has bigger fish to fry. For D, "Nukey" would be the focus of the entire novel. And it would be excruciating.


Blogger :-| pontificated to the effect that...

I gather you don't care for DeLillo.

I've read most of his stuff and all of Pynchon's and find that they aren't in the same league. DeLillo doesn't seem to have a point. I passed on Cosmopolis. Pynchon's point is there is no point but the proof is in the lyric and I don't think any post-moderner can conjure the imagery as well as he. IMHO

12:23 PM  

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