Yes, it’s me. Surprise!
I still value my privacy and I’m going right back into seclusion after I finish this announcement. I don’t mind getting text messages on occasion from J.D. Salinger, but even he can overdo the small talk.
My new book “Against the Day” is more than 1,000 pages long but doesn’t even begin to satisfy my ambition to discuss calculus, racism, theology, cocaine, fetishism, philosophy, coal-mining, pop music, corporate evil, time travel,…well, you know, all that shit that’s been labeled historiographical metafiction. I prefer “phantasmagoria.”
You might not be ready to read my new book if you can’t keep hundreds of characters and events that don’t lead anywhere secure in your short-term memory bank. It might be harder to read than it was to write, actually. All I had to do was throw together a ton of arcane references to real incidents, mix ‘em up with some silly named characters like Deuce Kindred and Alonzo Meatman. ( I like to have a little fun with names.) At one point, I go off on mayonnaise, and have some postmodern fun with making a big deal out of it. Get it, mayonnaise?!
Well, I’m going back into seclusion until further notice. You can read an exhausting review of my new book in the New Yorker, who both liked and didn’t like it. Being Thomas Pynchon, I could give a shit.