Hilarity from Page One

The Crying of Lot 49 

by Thomas Pynchon

“I came," she said, "hoping you could talk me out of a fantasy." Cherish it!" cried Hilarious, fiercely. "What else do any of you have? Hold it tightly by it's little tentacle, don't let the Freudians coax it away or the pharmacists poison it out of you. Whatever it is, hold it dear, for when you lose it you go over by that much to the others. You begin to cease to be.”   ― Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49


This is one of the funniest books I have ever read. From the opening page the names, the events, the plot, all serve to provide humor in many ways. The story is disjointed by an abundance of ideas that only loosely hang together. 

What impressed me the most, the moments that had me laughing out loud instead of just smiling (which I did on almost every page), were some of the most outrageous names like that of the protagonist Oedipa Maas and her husband Mucho Mass (!); but also Dr. Hilarious, Mike Fallopian, Arnold Snarb, Genghis Cohen, and many others on almost every page - there were no John Smiths in this book.

There were also the connections, at least those that I noted, that seemed to occur without warning. One connection that I found most exciting was when I remembered a passing reference to Cornell University on the opening page of the novel when I noted, on the first page of the final chapter, a song written by one of the characters Oedipa had only recently met which included the name "Humbert Humbert" in the lyrics. (I hope the connection requires no explanation.)

But that leads to the best aspect of the narrative, for it is surreal, having an absurd quality like it was a perpetual dream sequence. The events do not seem to follow any pattern, although there is the arc of the story based on Oedipa's nomination to be executor of the will of one Pierce Inverarity, which event did not seem to be explained by anything she could think of -- a letter from his law firm "said Pierce had died back in the spring, and they'd only just now found the will. . . She tried to think back to whether anything unusual had happened around then" (when she had been designated in a codicil the previous year). That is the event that sets her on her wild journey. It's one that involves unexpected events that tumble after each other culminating in a denouement that connects with the opening in an unexpected, perhaps bizarre, way. I will not attempt to explain the plot which involves bone charcoal, an Elizabethan drama, named "The Courier's Tragedy" which at least seems appropriate given other aspects of the plot, a modern megacorporation (wonderfully named Yoyodyne), and a mystery about an ancient symbol that is somehow connected to a valuable postage stamp. That list should be enough to whet any reader's appetite while suggesting how outrageously surreal the narrative becomes.

Needless to say I could not put the book down, for it was an exciting read in addition to being hilarious on almost every page. I would highly recommend this to readers who enjoy the works of authors like Sterne, Joyce or, in a more contemporary vein, Haruki Murikami.

Memories, Warm & Otherwise

Kafka on the Shore 

by Haruki Murakami

"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine."  - Haruki Murakami


This is a strange novel by Haruki Murakami, although that is not surprising since strangeness is is stock in trade. It is part allegory, part fantasy and reading it was often frustrating to this reader. With a plethora of references to things as disparate as classical mythology, pop culture, music (both popular and classical), philosophy (Kant and Hegel) and religion, the novel seemed to be chaotic at times. However, there was an overarching story line that held the book together somewhat. Briefly, it is the story of a runaway fifteen year old boy named Kafka Tamura whose life eventually intersects with that of a much older "simple" man named Satoru Nakata. Told in alternating chapters with the help of a supporting cast including talking cats and "Colonel Sanders" the book careens, a little too slowly, toward a conclusion that at least is unpredictable. My only other experiences with talking cats (Carroll and Bulgakov) were much more to my liking. And I have never encountered Colonel Sanders in fiction before, although I suspect he is out there somewhere. I suppose I should admire the author's ability to describe what might be the memories or dreams of a teenager - I know mine were sometimes as chaotic as this novel.  However warm some moments in the story I found myself thinking otherwise - just flat and lacking any profundity. For Murakami devotees, this fantasy's loose ends will tantalize; to his admirers, they may invite potential interpretation; but for the unconvinced, they will just dangle. Thus I found novel unappealing and ultimately unsatisfying and cannot recommend this book to any but the most perversely adventurous readers.  If you want a better introduction to this author I would direct you to The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.


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