This is my third time around with Gravity’s Rainbow. Finished it first time, read about halfway through the third time, and now I’m just reading it for fun (read: slowly). I’ve also got a few pages of a screenplay based on the book typed up so far.
“Destiny waits, a darkness latent in the texture of the summer wind. Destiny will betray you, crush your ideals, deliver you into the same detestable Bürgerlichkeit as your father, sucking at his pipe on Sunday strolls after church past the row houses by the river–dress you in the gray uniform of another family man, and without a whimper you will serve out your time, fly from pain to duty, from joy to work, from commitment to neutrality. Destiny does all of this to you.”
by Thomas Pynchon
Gravity’s Rainbow has always ranked somewhere on my list of favorite books, just because of the sheer madness that the book hunts for, a lust for all-consuming annihilation that appeals to me. Something about a kind of self-destructive maximization (entirely made up term) in the way everything centers around the rocket. Because, after all, once you see the way life has laid itself out, a reaction of any kind is a confirmation of being human, of knowing failure better than knowing hope.