The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Muted – I am in an alien way,
Post – reading this weird novel about a
Horn – that despite many mouths, remains
Muted – across the
Post – offices of circuitous US lands although the blare of this
Horn – is audible to a secretive group that moves in
Muted – shadows and sews in its hem, high
Post – bearers and zany professors who insist to
Horn – out any intruders who, in public or
Muted – way, attempt to
Post – any letters sent with this
Horn – bearing stamp to any
Muted – or alive estate holder, even if
Post – delivery, the estate holder might
Horn – away in their favour but
Muted – and inquisitive, our heroine, Oedipa Maas,
Post – receipt of the news of her ex-boyfriends’ death without any
Horn – and trumpet, finds that a seemingly
Muted – journey of co-executor of his estate, shall
Post – her in the midst of a raging war of
Horn – ,one representing an established postal network and another, a
Muted – yet bizarrely active clandestine network that
Post – marks its parcels with watermarks of
Horn – with a bold acronym, W.A.S.T.E which may be
Muted – on an ordinary street but read its
Post – and you know your deliveries are
Horn – washed to conspirators in hiding whose
Muted – voice can be heard before, during and
Post – a play and in the motel’s loo, the
Horn – can be spotted with an eerie hue which isn’t lost in
Muted – acquaintances who slowly desert Oedipa
Post – her unrestrained quest to reveal the
Horn – secret which she finally witnesses as a
Muted – picture which appears to have been
Post – scripted into lots of stamps that bear the
Horn – and the auctioneer grins cries at Oedipa’s gut, torn.
[I am not apologetic for churning out this insanely dust-worthy review, Mr. Pynchon. You go on blowing that muted post horn and throw at me concepts like entropy, teasing verses with Humbert Humbert, dandelion wine, Russian tanks, outdated cartoons and what was that: ‘perhaps to arouse fractions of brain current your most gossamer microelectrode is yet too gross for funding.’(???) and expect me to be sane?! I mean just to tell a little story about a woman who goes to execute an estate and gets confused after stumbling onto a few secret letters flying through a postal network, you had to bring LSD drug into picture?? Heck, yes! Actually, this is a story about this:
SEEMITA DAS 