
While tight by Pynchon's standards, this cracked, paranoia-driven novel straddling the attack on New York's twin towers is still a wild assault of almost too many characters, wisecracking, referencing and floating in and out of the central narrative with mysterious dynamism. If things get hard to follow, the quality of the writing, the keen descriptions of geeks, street life and catastrophes are all wonderful. This feels like Pynchon looking to be filmed. The family details are also a great touch, grounding the madness in some tenderness and domestic details.