Sam Spade as stoner

Pynchon’s parody of noir fiction delivers a manic requiem for the Age of Aquarius

August 02, 2009|Richard Eder, Globe Correspondent
(Page 3 of 3)

As epigraph, Pynchon quotes triumphalist graffiti from the buoyant Paris youth uprising of 1968: “Under the paving stones, the beach!’’ The illusion, that is, that the stones hurled at the lines of French police would lead into a time of splendor and freedom.

The hopes are recalled, reconstituted, and chastened in “Inherent Vice’’ and so are the ’70s shadows that overtook them. As for the beach, in California, it is restricted in some places, turned tawdry in others; though with beauty enough along large stretches, surfboarding still, and lots of bicycling.

A haunting lyrical passage ends the book. After a succession of cheerfully suspect happy endings, Doc is caught in one of the fogs that occasionally blanket and paralyze the Los Angeles freeways. What Pynchon does with the fog recalls nothing so much as what Joyce did with the snow - “general over Ireland’’ - that ends his imperishable story, “The Dead’’ and expands it into universal desolation.

Richard Eder writes reviews for several publications.

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