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I really only read this because I heard it dubbed Ulysses’ spiritual successor. The comparison is valid, although I think “Joyce meets Kundera’s freakiness” is a better description. Admittedly, your enjoyment of this book will 100% depend on how you view it going in: expecting a schizophrenic Joycian sequence of 800 pages, you will be disappointed and admittedly a wee bit grossed out. Expecting a zany surrealist philosophical stream of consciousness comedy, you’ll come out thinking it’s one of the greatest books you’ve ever read. The author, Pynchon, is incredibly clever and his signature bizarre sense of humor proves to be the book’s greatest strength. That last 200 page stretch of nonsensical narratives is probably the highlight of the book for me. Also Slothrop every twenty seconds: doyoyoyoinng
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