Cortically Magnified

I finished reading Thomas Pynchon’s novel V. about a month ago. I was thinking about writing a review, but what’s the point? Given its classic status, it has been analyzed to death. So just a couple of thoughts. This was Pynchon’s first novel, so we have to ask if it compares well to his later masterpieces. I think a novel worthy of Pynchon’s name must do two things: 1. It must induce a mindfuck.

Finished William Gibson’s Count Zero. I like William Gibson. There are things that he did extremely well in this novel. But it doesn’t work. The three main threads of narrative are all interesting ideas by themselves, but they don’t add up to a meaningful big picture. In the end, I don’t understand why anything happened. I was planning to read Mona Lisa Overdrive after this one, but maybe not. The second half of Count Zero seems too clumsily written for me.

A mini-review of the recently released “Miles Davis John Coltrane The Final Tour: The Bootleg Series, Vol. 6” album. The first track of the album, recorded in 1960 in a live show in Paris, documents a dramatic moment in the history of modern music. The European concert goers were expecting the dreamy world of Kind of Blue and some pleasant show tunes. They didn’t know that John Coltrane was going to unleash the furious sounds of the future to them.