Vineland

Last time I read this I was 19 or 20 years old, childless, backpacking; much of what I got out of reading this now I do not remember getting back then.

This novel ends like a Beck song, which is to say, it's a bit of a mess that can both be really satisfying and fun, but also disappointing.

I read this on the train down to Guildford and shamed myself by giggling, especially at lines like: "he looked like something shoplifted from a toy department", and ''you are a fool, whereas I regret to say you have not even advanced that far.'' Shades of The Crime Studio again. I was all the more surprised I liked it that much, when I considered that I could not get more than halfway through Gravity's Rainbow. I bought that one for a 'plane journey and preferred looking out of the window to reading it. Vineland also contains the world's worst rock lyrics; at least I hope they're supposed to be bad ...