V by Thomas Pynchon

What a strange novel. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. The language is tricky, with an amusing amount of beatnik/proto-hippy slang that contrasts sharply with the language of other settings in the novel, each section having vivid descriptions of the time and place, and highly specified and technical dialogue. With the book’s events covering a hundred years or maybe more, this is a wild ride that manages to somehow find balance despite its wide scope and its goofy, pretentious aura.