Thomas Pynchon’s 1966 novel “The Crying of Lot 49” is a curious piece of literature that attempts to deconstruct American society as it existed in the mid-to-late 1960s. Doing so in a rather humorous and esoteric way, the book excels at making the reader’s experience in discovering the narrative match the experience of the protagonist as she searches for meaning and purpose in her life. The reader is sucked into a mysterious journey that may not even have any real purpose while forcing them to reckon with the contradictions of the modern world. It accomplishes this mostly by using its plot to look at gender roles, sexuality, the idea of reality being affected by the projections of media, television, films, and books, and the erosion of strongly held values.
The story gets moving when protagonist Oedipa Maas’ changing lifestyle comes as a result of the untimely death of Pierce Inverarity, a former lover who made her executor of his large estate. Her less than idyllic life as the housewife of Wendell “Mucho” Maas, a used-car salesman turned disc jockey, comes to an end as she journeys to the fictional California town of San Narciso to execute the will. The plot comes to be centered on a mysterious muted horn symbol that Oedipa begins to notice around California as her travels continue. Research tells her that the horn represents an underground postal service known as “Trystero.”
It’s interesting to consider the literary allusion Pynchon makes to the fairy tale heroine Rapunzel through Oedipa. He makes the argument that, from the vantage point of her “tower,” Oedipa’s character can never be “saved.” The reality presented in place of fairy-tale romance forces Oedipa and the reader to realize that love may not necessarily “conquer all,” or even have any meaning in the first place. As alluded to at the end of Chapter Two, if Rapunzel’s hair is only a wig, then what’s the point of playing such a role in the first place? How can happiness be sought or found in that context if one somehow inherently knows that it is nothing more than a mere illusion (“The tower is everywhere and the knight of deliverance is no proof against its magic”)? Is Oedipa trapped in the world of men, doomed to carry out their bidding in some form or another until her dying day, or has the acquisition of the Inverarity estate given her autonomy and the potential for self-discovery?
“Free love” becomes just as mundane and routine as “romance,” due in part to changes in gender dynamics and what some thinkers call the “masculinization” of women. For instance, there is a sequence where Oedipa visits the University of California at Berkeley, her old alma mater. The student body has now fully embraced the social upheaval that is synonymous with the decade of the 1960s. This makes us strongly consider what Pynchon must have meant when a character makes mention of “lib, overeducated broads with soft heads and bleeding hearts.” Oedipa seems to seek happiness or some kind of emotional buffering through her sexuality in its raw, unrefined form, as shown in the narrative. In comparison to popular opinion before the dawn of the 20th century’s sexual revolution (this book would have been published at the dawn of the countercultural movement), the sexual liaisons portrayed in the novel are almost meaningless. In an era of “free love,” Oedipa commits marital infidelity with her new lawyer friend Metzger (who used to be an actor), and her husband is too absent from her life to fully know, understand, or even care. Miles, an adolescent wannabe Beatle who sings in a band called “The Paranoids,” also tries to seduce Oedipa, but with no success.
Miles the would-be Beatle is only one of the many allusions to popular media and classic literature throughout the novel. A deeper meaning pertaining to the symbol of the horn is initially implied through a play called “The Courier’s Tragedy,” which seems to parody Shakespeare as well as the Jacobean revenge plays of the Western canon. Metzger’s reference to the then-popular television program Perry Mason are interesting in that the late Raymond Burr was an actor who played a lawyer, while Metzger is a former actor who became a lawyer in real life. This contrast is portrayed in such a way that that, as a reader, I asked myself if one is any more “real” than the other.
Social commentary like this seems to be why this book has made its way into the so-called intellectual canon, due to its contribution towards an understanding of postwar America as it truly existed. Readers can even get a sense of the implications of Cold War paranoia and the clash of ideologies with the idea that “industrial capitalism and Marxism are both part of the same horror (page 37).” In a different passage, the battle hymn that is sung in honor of the fictional company Yoyodyne hints at the implications of worshipping corporate culture and stock market value over more “noble” creations of the human spirit. The story ends abruptly with no real answers for Oedipa or the reader; and I think that this was intentional. With this novel, Pynchon seemed to be attempting to capture the aimlessness, absurdity, and angst of postwar American life. Fear of “the bomb” and the onset of a convergent, media-driven popular culture must have created a sense of comfortable numbness and familiar despair as the 1960s rolled on, and America was continuing to change the way it saw things like gender, race, and sexual ethics. These questions and their answers may seem quaint or even passé to contemporary readers like myself, but I don’t think that makes the book any less relevant or dynamic.





















