One of the first reviews of Thomas Pynchon’s 1,085-page novel, Against the Day, has appeared in Time. Richard Layco’s tone is that of a green-faced dinner who ordered something “adventurous” in, say, an authentic Cantonese restaurant and is now having trouble lifting up another spoonful of the undifferentiated pottage to his lips:
More than in any of Pynchon’s previous books, just what it all means is a problem in Against the Day, where plots and ideas and fantastic developments pile up in exhausting profusion. You’ve been vouchsafed once again his vision of a bright, beleaguered world, this one with more than its share of resemblances to our realities post–Sept. 11. With another few decades of reading and decoding, you may even get the work’s largest intentions to snap into focus. Or maybe not.