Vineland (Classic, 20th-Century, Penguin) Paperback – September 1, 1997

My first introduction to Pynchon was "The Crying of Lot 49." I liked it, and then I tried to crack open "Gravity's Rainbow." Tried as I might, I couldn't make head or tail of it, but that was some time ago.I first read "Vineland" after a second failed attempt to read another Pynchon book, "Mason & Dixon." In my opinion, his style is one that a person must step into in the usual manner, with the most accesable steps, usually those nearest the floor. If you were able to start with "Mason & Dixon" then congrats, 'cos your feet were higher than mine.I recomend "The Crying..." and then "Vineland." I was immediately hooked into this book, even more so than I was "The Crying..." The Wheeler's are comical, the scenes are surreal. Yet, the3re was something very familiar about some of those scenes. It's as if they exist on the cusp of possibility. The story itself does not move in any linear pattern, it is more like a web where characters are the joining threads and the flies are the conflicts. It may take time to adjust. Also you may need to take soem time to get comfortable with Pynchon's way of creating histories.Until I had read this, I thought Pynchon had only one good book, a couple stories, and two unreadable "Ulyseus"-esque novels. I still have more books to read. And I've still never been able to make it through "Gravity's Rainbow."

Trippy read. Zoyd rocks!

Sort of unfairly, Thomas Pynchon's first three novels tend to be either the subject of immense praise or fiery scorn, them being the most (in)famous works in his ouvre, so his later books are left largely overlooked. When trudging through Pynchon's body of work, it's probably not the best choice to go with Gravity's Rainbow as your first book. So I didn't. Vineland wasn't my first Pynchon book either (that would be The Crying of Lot 49), but it almost seems like the one novel of his that I would show off to people who aren't familiar with the wacky world of Pynchon. Almost. Relatively speaking, compared to The Crying of Lot 49 and V., Vineland is kind of a gentle story, or a story within a story. Well, stories within a framework. Well, a contemporary setting that keeps getting hijacked by flashbacks and flashbacks within flashbacks.To put it simply, the plot of Vineland moves backwards and sideways more than it ever progresses, which is fine if you're into the kind of writing that loves to make digressions. Thankfully, I'm one of those people, but it also helps that Pynchon is a fantastic writer who, after the encyclopedic insanity of Gravity's Rainbow, seemed to have sobered up and written a surprisingly kind-hearted but fairly critical little book about the hippie movement of the 60's and early 70's and why that movement met an early demise. When starting Vineland it appears that Zoyd Wheeler, a middle-aged ex-hippie who gets government checks for his annual acts of craziness, is going to be the protagonist. This is not the case. The book has at least three protagonists, all of whom are quite related to each other, and ultimately it feels like an intricate machine for such a short read (385 pages, which by Pynchon standards is merciful). Vineland has an ending as well, which is refreshing for a Pynchon read, although it's probably the most esoteric part of the entire book. Prepare to not get all the answers you're looking for.Make no mistake, there's some goofy stuff in Vineland, from a secret society of female ninjas to a random-ass episode involving what might be Godzilla. Like Kurt Vonnegut, Pynchon is an author well-known in the world of literary fiction who likes to play around with speculative fiction (and by that I really mean science fiction), and despite having a reputation as one of the more difficult authors out there his novels always have some level of wackiness to them, although Vineland is surprisingly comprehensible for what it is, or at least I found myself understanding most of it. The thing, though, that draws me to each of Pynchon's works, and why I think Vineland is the best of his novels that I've read so far, is that beneath all the drugs and sex and generally zany antics, there's undeniable sentimentality that runs deep here. Each of Pynchon's books that I've read bears this sort of melancholic but profound understanding of human relationships and how we tend to yearn for days long passed, and Vineland is probably the most sentimental in Pynchon's body of work, which I think also makes it his most human.

I had read Vineland back when it was firstpublished, and was stimulated to read it again (as I often do with almost every novel) after recently reading that David Foster Wallace found it tedious and dissapointing.Well, he (DFW) has (or had) a point. I personally think that Inherent Vice is far and away a more coherent and readable novel, if you want to go down Memory Lane with Pynchon into the Hippy culture... and I've read everything he's published at least once, and usually twice.But, of course, he's a literary Giant, and I'm an ant... but I'm also a HUGE fan. I just think this one was half-baked, pun intended.

I just finished re-reading Thomas Pynchon's Vineland, and have developed a whole new appreciation for it. I think the fact that it is about times in recent memory makes it appear to deceptively "fun", like a Tom Robbinsesque Zen-Lite, when in fact there is, as in Gravity's Rainbow, a wealth of obscure historical data churning underneath the surface, and a theme that successfully handles issues of family unities pitted against the fraying and unravelling of time, darkly reflected in murky swamps of politics, tying it all together in a way that is ultimately moving and profound, television inspired slapstick moments and stilted humor a commentary on the proceedings rather than a flaw in style; it is who we are. The fact that the book keeps numerous plot strands through various time periods moving along briskly reflects an apogee of Pynchon's style and skill; furthermore, this book seems to be a continuation and combination of Against The Day, with its historical perspective on unions, collective organizing and the tyranny of lucre, and the psycho-social explosions of The Crying Of Lot 49, bringing together from the two books characters, in spirit if not in name, and ideas to create a three-dimensional picture of American society, with all its strengths and weaknesses, as an ongoing enterprise in a constant state of renewal, absolving and passing on foibles and indiscretions from generation to generation, tangled vines intertwining as they are pushed into the rich black earth of history by the new growth ever sprouting above.I recommend reading it again. I got a lot more out of it the second time.