I review the latest Pynchon in this week's Newcity:
Some early reviewers of Thomas Pynchon’s seventh novel took its easygoing 372 pages as light diversion, an Elmore Leonard-style caper in the drug-high early 1970s, something Steven Soderbergh could splinter into a feature film. Passages of melancholy and imaginative conversational style are weightier than that. A funny, convoluted counterculture detective story, “Inherent Risk” follows Doc Sportello, a P.I., or “gumsandal,” in search of a missing woman. [More
here.]
I review the latest Pynchon in this week's Newcity: Some early reviewers of Thomas Pynchon’s seventh novel took its easygoing 372 pages as light diversion, an Elmore Leonard-style caper in the drug-high early 1970s, something Steven Soderbergh could splinter into a feature film. Passages of melancholy and imaginative conversational style are weightier than that. A funny, convoluted counterculture detective story, “Inherent Risk” follows Doc Sportello, a P.I., or “gumsandal,” in search of a missing woman. [More here.]
