"...$27.95?...That used be like, three weeks of groceries, man...What year is this?"
That pretty much says it all.
Once upon a time, I read a couple of his books.
He could hit me over the head with a baseball batin broad daylight, and I wouldn't care who he is.
I made it through "Vineland". I'm not a boomer: It didn't mean shit to me.
Never read him.
But jet-exhaust tail lamps are always sweet.
I made it about a third of the way through "Gravity's Rainbow" before I just couldn't take it any more.
One reviewer said that it was brilliant and unreadable. He was correct.
Is it only coincidence that Pynchon refuses to show his face?