Saturday, January 06, 2007


A description of a governor of a western city of the dead in Pynchon's Against the Day (I'm a third of the way through and enjoying the ride) :
Something wrong in his appearance, something pre-human in the face, the sloping forehead and the clean-shaven upper lip, which for any reason, or none, would start back into a simian grin which was suppressed immediately, producing a kind of dangerous smirk that often lingered for hours, and which, when combined with his glistening stare, was enough to unnerve the boldest of desperadoes. Though he believed the power that God had allowed to find its way to him required a confident swagger, his gait was neither earned nor, despite years of practice, authentic, having progressed in fact little beyond an apelike trudge.


Blogger Hank said...

I'm beating you, Jay -- I'm on page 566.

I win!

4:42 PM  
Blogger J. Herzog said...

Yeah, those holidays really took a toll on my Pynchon progress.

4:46 PM  
Anonymous winona said...

I'm sure you'll catch up to Hank in no time!!

3:04 PM  
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10:41 AM  

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