ANALYSIS BY CHAPTER

The Crying of Lot 49 (1966)

Thomas Pynchon

(1937- )

The title is obscure, teasing the mind: What is Lot 49 and why is it crying? Then we learn that the title
refers to a stamp auction. Throughout the novel we are misled to expect that the auction will be a climax,
but it never happens, an implied parallel to anticipation of an ultimate revelation of an afterlife. In the story
by Katherine Anne Porter called “The Jilting of Granny Weatherall” the disillusionment of Granny at her
moment of death is ironic because Porter implies that in fact she has earned salvation, whereas the Atheist
Pynchon implies that Oedipa is pursuing a fantasy.

The novel opens with a pastoral evocation of the orderly, secure, complacent, leisurely, affluent, middle-
class life of a representative American housewife that will become a paradise lost: “One summer afternoon
Mrs Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in
the fondue…” Maas suggests mass. Mrs Maas represents the mass of housewives with nothing worse to
complain about than the fondue at shopping parties for cookware. She is playing the traditional gender role
that Feminists scorned in the 1960s. As a woman liberating herself, Oedipa remains sympathetic because
she is not polarized against men like the radical Feminists, she is humane.

Realists choose commonplace names to make characters representative and to evoke the illusion of real
life. Pynchon puns. Realists do not choose odd names like Oedipa, especially for a protagonist. Nor do they
open a story with a long periodic sentence that calls attention to the literary prowess of the author—his
style. That is a characteristic of Postmodernists, especially the Academic Expressionists epitomized by
Pynchon. Realists in general try to narrate so that readers forget they are reading and enter into the lives of
the characters. Pynchon keeps us aloof, thinking about his names and allusions, trying to figure out what he
means. The name Oedipa is even more distracting because it is a double allusion: To the famous ancient
Greek tragedy Oedipus Rex and to the Oedipus Complex in the modern psychiatric theory of Sigmund
Freud. Pynchon is locked in his head like Oedipa in her tower. Like his title, his first sentence addresses the
abstract mind rather than the concrete imagination. To understand the pertinence of the name Oedipa
requires an education that readers no longer receive in American schools.

The feminizing of Oedipus the King is a gender role reversal, a common response by male novelists to
the women’s liberation movement getting underway in the 1960s. The Crying of Lot 49 is an allegory of
women’s liberation: The King is dead, long live the Queen—except that the Feminist paradigm of gender
roles absolutely replaces the Victorian paradigm. Since men are no longer Kings, women can no longer be
Queens, the domestic ideal affirmed in the 19th century by Victorian American women including Margaret
Fuller, Louisa May Alcott and Emily Dickinson, whose model was Queen Victoria. Pynchon symbolizes
the destruction of the Victorian paradigm at the end of his first novel V. (1963).

As a Feminist new woman, Oedipa (1) “kills” her mother, traditional womanhood; (2) takes on the male
role of her “father,” her older lover Pierce Inverarity; (3) she has no children and no evident desire for any;
(4) is married to a weak disintegrating male, Mucho, who is not macho; (5) has affairs; (6) learns that
society is a conspiracy of males in a sinister capitalist Patriarchy personified in Pierce Inverarity, whose
first name evokes masculine penetration and whose last name connotes in-veritas, invalid. Inverarity is the
name of a town in Scotland associated with the Puritan leader John Knox, with the rise of capitalism (see
Max Weber) and with a term in stamp collecting, the central thematic motif in the novel; (7) Oedipa was a
lover of Pierce, who embodies the System; (8) she joins the System to “execute the will” of Pierce; and (9)
she becomes an isolated paranoid like a man. That Inverarity is dead prefigures the imminent death of
capitalism and his replacement by his “executrix” is evidence of entropy in America.
 Oedipa “sorting it all out” is the plot of the novel, modeled on detective fiction. She is not sure she
wants the burden of her new role: “Oedipa stood in the living room, stared at by the greenish dead eye of
the TV tube, spoke the name of God, tried to feel as drunk as possible. But this did not work.” She may be
looking at the TV when she speaks the name of God, as if TV or technology has replaced God, one of the
major themes in Pynchon and DeLillo. In this novel, like the TV with its “dead eye” God too is dead, but
the TV can be turned on again. Oedipa finds nothing to help her in religion, technology, drugs, or sex—she
is on her own—liberated into a Void.

She recalls the door of her hotel room down in the romantic getaway of Mazatlan, Mexico slamming “it
seemed forever,” so loudly it woke up “two hundred birds down in the lobby,” apparently when Pierce
slammed the door on their affair—angrily it seems. This suggests that naming her his “executrix” was an
act of revenge. With 200 birds in the lobby, their “love nest” was a virtual Wilderness, the archetypal
setting of transcendent experience, often imaged as birds. Rather than flying in the Sky, however, Oedipa’s
birds awakened out of sight and confined below, associated in Pynchon—obviously in “Entropy”—with the
body and “mindless pleasures.” This is a woman who goes to a market to listen to Muzak. When later her
husband Mucho the disc jockey plays the Top 200, by implication the exact parallel reduces Oedipa’s
individuation into liberation to an insignificance as transitory as her birds. Likewise, the Cornell students
on the library slope—an image of bookish alienation from Nature—do not see the sunrise because they are
facing west—the capitalist West—rather than toward the spiritual East. Of course, this applies to Pynchon
himself. The consequence of all this is a mood expressed by “a dry, disconsolate tune” from Bartok, the
atonal Postmodernist composer.

Pynchon’s reductive view of capitalism is embodied in the bust of “Jay Gould that Pierce kept over the
bed on a shelf so narrow for it she’d always had the hovering fear it would someday topple on them. Was
that how he’d died, she wondered, among dreams, crushed by the only icon in the house? That only made
her laugh.” As if she too is feeling the gratification of revenge. This is the only suggestion in the novel as to
why Pierce died--comic symbolism prefiguring the destruction of capitalism by greed, as Pynchon has
predicted. Pynchon’s shelf is just as narrow as Inverarity’s: He cherrypicks Jay Gould, the most infamous
example of greedy unregulated capitalism from the late 19th century. Pynchon implies that Gould is the role
model of Inverarity, that all capitalists are Jay Goulds, and that the bust of Gould is “whitewashed,” in
reference to the argument that big capitalists such as Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Carnegie, Morgan, and
Ford—however unscrupulous—built the strongest economy in the world, made the country a magnet for
immigrants, raised the standard of living and gave America the capacity to defeat fascism in the 20th
century. Pynchon is an elitist in ignoring the positive effects of the capitalist system on the masses—
including the liberation of women--an example of the “excluded middles” in his thinking. Not only has his
prediction not come true, in the 20th century capitalism reduced poverty worldwide by 80%.

Oedipa is already feeling paranoid: “You’re sick, Oedipa, she told herself, or the room, which knew.”
Now that she has replaced Pierce, perhaps she too will be crushed. The comic book tone continues with the
law firm of “Warpe, Wistful” and so on, followed by a reference to the “Vivaldi Kazoo Concerto, Boyd
Beaver, soloist.” In “The Waste Land” (1922) T. S. Eliot’s incongruities, such as the Shakespearean Rag,
lament the degradation of culture in the 20th century, whereas Pynchon delights in pop cultural decadence.
He is the literary equivalent of the Postmodernist painters who depict a crucifix inverted in urine and the
Madonna covered with dung, though he is more subtle. In V. as Profane he identifies with “The Whole Sick
Crew.” In Gravity’s Rainbow he drops a nuclear rocket on the head of conservative President Nixon and as
his horny hero Slothrop he abandons America and disappears into the waste land of post-WWII Germany,
choosing to live among the Nazis, the ruins and the dead.

Though she has a taste for Muzak and shallow affairs, Oedipa also reads book reviews in Scientific
American and understands Pynchon’s scientific metaphors. Once traditional enough to prepare dinner for
her husband, she got bored like Bette Friedan in The Feminine Mystique (1963), said by the media to have
initiated the women’s liberation movement. Oedipa thinks about her affair with Pierce, a capitalist in
business and in bed, a trickster who speaks in many voices like The Confidence-Man by Melville and
Rinehart in Invisible Man by Ellison. Inverarity has no integrity, he is a Postmodernist who includes the
voice of a Nazi in his repertoire. He is so insensitive he wakes her up at three or so in the morning with a
phone call to make stupid jokes—with her husband right beside her in the bed and overhearing! Rather than
object, Mucho—not macho—“suggested sensibly” that she hang up on her lover.

Oedipa ignores Mucho and listens to one of Pierce’s seductive voices, “the one he’d talked in all the
way down to Mazatlan.” He becomes “The Shadow,” a detective on the radio. Pynchon later refers to Jung,
in whose psychology the Shadow is an image of repressions that must be confronted and reconciled for
individuation toward wholeness to proceed. Oedipa’s affair with Pierce is her confrontation with her
Shadow—impelled by her dissatisfaction with her marriage and her love of what the wealthy and powerful
Pierce Inverarity represents. The capitalist exploits her, of course. Her union with her Shadow is superficial
and leaves her feeling “exposed, finessed, put down.” She speculates that Pierce made her execute his will
“because of her annoyance and Mucho’s indifference.”

Gender roles are reversed when Mucho calls his wife Oed (Ed) and she says “You’re too sensitive.”
Unlike her, Mucho is also honest. When he was a used car salesman, contrary to type he was distressed by
the dishonesty that prevails among car dealers and by the vulnerable mental states of the customers who
came into “the lot,” introducing the motif of one’s “lot in life” that leads to the crying of Lot 49. “Yet at
least he believed in the cars.” To the sensitive Mucho, the used cars in the lot symbolize their owners, who
suffer from despair like a “gray sickness”: “Each owner, each shadow, filed in only to exchange a dented,
malfunctioning version of himself for another, just as futureless, automotive projection of somebody else’s
life.” Having made a car a projection of himself, a dissatisfied owner becomes a Shadow who tries to
exchange his persona for somebody else’s—like Inverarity changing voices.

Pynchon once considered becoming a disk jockey like Mucho, who works for KCUF—an obscenity
spelled backwards—a radio station sponsored by “the lot.” The lot represents the capitalist System. “He
had believed too much in the lot, he believed not at all in the station.” He says, “I don’t believe in any of it,
Oed.” He plays the Top 200, feeding “the fraudulent dream of teenage appetites.” When he is awakened
again at three in the morning by a telephone call for Oedipa, this time it is her psychotherapist Dr. Hilarius,
who sounds “like Pierce doing a Gestapo officer.” This equates capitalism with other systems represented
by Hilarius and Nazism, ironic because Hilarius is a Freudian and Freud was Jewish. Comparisons of
people in authority to Nazis became a standard liberal tactic in the 1960s. Hilarius tries to seduce Oedipa
into joining his experiment on effects of LSD, “mescaline, psilocybin, and related drugs on a large sample
of suburban housewives.” Except for the Gestapo comparison, Hilarius resembles Dr. Timothy Leary from
Harvard, the goofy flowerchild guru of LSD in the 1960s who had his ashes launched into space by a
rocket. Hilarius is as much out of touch with reality as he is with the time of night. Previously he had tried
to “cure” Oedipa by making faces at her. “But she would be damned if she’d take the capsules he’d given
her. Literally damned. She didn’t want to get hooked in any way.”

Oedipa and her lawyer Roseman “often went to the same group therapy sessions, in a car pool with a
photographer from Palo Alto who thought he was a volley ball.” Roseman too is dissociated from reality,
obsessed with destroying a fictional rival, Perry Mason on TV. At lunch he plays footsie with her under the
table but Oedipa is “insulated,” wearing boots, “and couldn’t feel much of anything.” The name Rose-man
is ironic because he is not romantic, he is predatory. Oedipa is so insulated from feeling that, combined
with Pynchon’s comic book characterization and consistently ironic tone, she never elicits much feeling in
a reader. She is a product and expression of the emotional poverty common to Postmodernists. Satire
distances a reader from those satirized. In this novel, in contrast to Realism, no one gets close to anyone.
“There had hung the sense of buffering, insulation, she had noticed the absence of an intensity, as if
watching a movie, just perceptibly out of focus…”

Oedipa “was to have all manner of revelations.” The word “revelations” gives her quest for information
a possible religious import, by implication raising the question of whether God exists. She “had also
conned herself into the curious, Rapunzel-like role of a pensive girl somehow, magically, prisoner among
the pines and salt fogs of Kinneret, looking for somebody to say hey, let down your hair.” She was not
forced by the “Patriarchy” as Feminists would have it, she “conned herself” into the traditional Victorian
gender role of housewife. Now as a housewife she feels like a maiden in a medieval romance or a fairy tale
“imprisoned” in a tower and waiting to be rescued. When the knight turns out to be a rich guy with a sense
of humor she immediately lets her hair down in a “dainty avalanche.” Playing his traditional role, Pierce
takes hold of her hair and starts climbing. But women have changed.

Oedipa has experienced what Feminists call “consciousness raising,” which may happen all at once like
an epiphany. Her long hair associated with traditional womanhood turns out to be a wig. “And down he
fell, on his ass.” She no longer believes in her role. As a rich guy, “perhaps using one of his many credit
cards for a shim,” Pierce is able to slip the lock on her tower door. Oedipa gives him credit because he has
plenty of money—a capitalist herself. Then he climbs “the conchlike stairs.” Spiraling like a conch is a
motif of the individuation process, as in the poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes, “The Chambered Nautilus.”
However, as depicted by Pynchon, individuation no longer happens. No character grows spiritually in this
novel. In fact, they shrink. Though her consciousness is “raised” Oedipa must try to escape her tower by
coming down. But even then, she never really escapes: “all that had gone on between them had really never
escaped the confinement of that tower.”

The tower is vertical consciousness with the rational mind on top, comparable to the apartment house in
Pynchon’s story “Entropy.” As a Postmodern solipsist with an insulated heart, dissociated from the soul,
Pynchon is confined to his mind like Oedipa: “The tower is everywhere.” On the contrary, most people are
not paranoids locked into vertical consciousness. His symbol implies that Pynchon and Oedipa both are
incapable of transcendence through trust, charity, empathy, love, self-sacrifice, or religious experience.
They are sociopathic. For them “There’d been no escape… Such a captive maiden, having plenty of time to
think, soon realizes that her tower, its height and architecture, are like her ego only incidental: that what
really keeps her where she is is magic, anonymous and malignant, visited on her from outside and for no
reason at all.” This is a Gothic vision comparable to Poe and Thomas Hardy: There is no free will really, all
is determined. Hence, we victims are not responsible for our actions--a premise of liberal politics. For all
his emphasis on science, Pynchon here attributes ultimate authority to “magic”—inexplicable almighty
power that, ironically, resembles the Calvinist God in relation to the damned, the Preterite, except that
without God there is no accountability. According to Pynchon, you can do anything you want to in life and
whatever bad happens to you is the universe’s fault.

Oedipa is moved to tears by a painting she saw in Mexico City: Girls with “heart-shaped faces” and
“spun-gold hair” like Rapunzel were “prisoners in the top room of a circular tower, embroidering a kind of
tapestry which spilled out the slit windows and into a void, seeking hopelessly to fill the void; for all the
other buildings and creatures, all the waves, ships and forests of the earth were contained in this tapestry,
and the tapestry was the world.” The “void” is a world without God, an Existentialist world in which all
meaning must be created within oneself. Later Oedipa asks herself “Shall I project a world?” like they do
in the Planetarium. “Build therefore your own world,” advised Emerson in Nature (1836). But unlike
atheistic Existentialists, who are materialists, Emerson believed your ability to transcend the world comes
from the Spirit, the power of God—the “Oversoul” within the human psyche. Emerson is a Neo-Platonic
Transcendentalist: There is no Void, quite the opposite, the universe is all Spirit.

San Narcisco is the headquarters (head-quarters) of Pierce Inverarity, a metaphor of the entire capitalist
System. The place name is apt, ironic and plausible in California. It rhymes with San Francisco, with
connotations of narcissism and narcotic—as in Saint Narcissus. Pierce built himself towers here, aspiring
“however rickety or grotesque, toward the sky.” Oedipa arrives “on a Sunday” and sees the city from above
laid out like a printed circuit with a “hieroglyphic sense of concealed meaning.” She felt a revelation
tremble “just past the threshold of her understanding,” just as she does at the end of the novel—“at the
centre of an odd, religious instant.” But she is like Mucho playing records for “all the faithful.” Even if she
could hear the words of a revelation she “couldn’t believe in it,” which applies to any revelation she might
receive after the end of the novel, making her quest a waste.

She drives past a division of the Yoyodyne aerospace corporation, modeled on Boeing in Seattle where
Pynchon worked for awhile. Pierce is called “a founding father,” implicitly equating a predatory scoundrel
with the virtuous men who risked their lives to found the United States. This is Marxist cartooning.
Pynchon implies that the Founders are responsible for the evils of urban capitalism, which Thomas
Jefferson in particular opposed. Far from being predatory capitalists, Jefferson and John Adams and other
Founders were farmers. George Washington gave up his power and Benjamin Franklin gave away all his
patents. Most Americans were farming people until 1919. Pynchon falsifies history by equating agrarians
like Jefferson with their urban enemies, a slander of the Founders characteristic of Leftists.

The yoyo in Yoyodyne is a Marxist metaphor of the capitalist economy manipulated up and down for
their own profit by financiers and cartels. An urban toker himself, Pynchon describes the interstate as a
“hypodermic needle, inserted somewhere ahead into the vein of a freeway, a vein nourishing the mainliner
L.A., keeping it happy, coherent, protected from pain…” In his vision, America is addicted to oil like a
junkie on heroin, as well as to vacuous pop culture (which Pynchon loves himself but does not believe in)
and to capitalism. Despite her vow, Oedipa is hooked. She registers at the Echo Courts motel with the face
of a nymph on its sign that “was much like Oedipa’s…. She was smiling a lipsticked and public smile, not
quite a hooker’s, but nowhere near that of any nymph pining away with love either. Oedipa pulled into the
lot…” She associates the sign with her anticipation of some revelation, which could be that she may end
up like the illuminated nymph.

Echo Courts is managed by a teenage drop-out with a Beatle haircut who sings an adolescent pop tune
of the 1960s (composed by Pynchon), echoing an English accent--a member of “The Paranoids.” At the
time so many people were smoking marijuana in defiance of authorities that paranoia was indeed a
common feeling, though not enough to inhibit the smoking. “The Paranoids” evokes not the pastoralism of
The Beatles or the Woodstock Festival in the 1960s but the protest marches, arsons, bombings and murders
that give an ominous import to the countercultural Tristero in this novel. The dominant mood of the young
1960s Counterculture was optimistic, naïve, peaceful, euphoric, utopian and righteous. Pynchon identified
with it as anarchistic liberation and great fun but he did not believe in it any more than Mucho believes in
the adolescent pop culture he promotes on the radio.

The hip teenage motel manager is another capitalist who immediately makes a crude move on Oedipa,
an illustration of Echo Courtship, but young Miles does not get far—not an inch actually. He offers her his
“smooth young body” saying “I thought you older chicks went for that.” Oedipa does not appreciate being
seen as a desperate older chick. The next male she encounters is the lawyer Metzger, who “turned out to be
so good-looking” he must be an actor. Though a lawyer, Metzger is also a wine smuggler—“a rollicking
lawbreaker”—whose eyes smile “wickedly.” Of course she lets him in, much as she had let Pierce. Oedipa
“had let her hair all the way down.”

Over 20 years ago Metzger was a child movie star with the screen name Baby Igor. Here in Echo
Courts, the name Igor echoes the stereotypical name of the deformed creature who opens the huge creaking
door of the castle in horror movies. Looks deceive, especially in the movies. The handsome Metzger is
inwardly malformed in that he has no identity—no authentic Self. It is common for an actor to say in an
interview that when he is not playing a role he is not sure who he is. Conditioned by playing immature
roles, Metzger never developed into an adult. He is all persona: “I live inside my looks, and I’m never
sure.” He is like many a beauty queen. Baby Igor had a domineering stage mother who turned him into a
kind of monster like the child movie star who thinks he is Frankenstein in The Day of the Locust (1939) by
Nathanael West, a surrealist of the grotesque like Pynchon. Locust also includes a capitalist scammer
named Know-All Pierce-All, a precursor of Inverarity. Both novels end in paranoia.

Oedipa turns on the TV and there is baby Metzger in a movie with long feminine curls and, ironically, a
big hairy St. Bernard, the dog most associated with saving people. “That’s me, that’s me,” cried Metzger,
staring, “good God.” Oedipa’s response is a joke—“Which one?”—as if Metzger might be the dog. As if he
might save her, as Pierce failed to do. She might also be asking which God. Juxtaposed to a question about
God, Metzger’s reference to a movie called Cashiered is a comment on religion, suggesting that capitalism
and pop culture as represented by movies have replaced faith in God.

Metzger is now the “aging double” of Baby Igor, singing along with himself about being a baby war
hero. The handsome lawyer shrinks into an infantile narcissist. Oedipa cannot decide whether this movie
came on by coincidence or Metzger bribed the engineer at the local TV station to show it. This prefigures
her uncertainty at the end of the novel as to whether everything is coincidental or a sinister conspiracy.
Here she jumps to the conclusion that “It’s all part of a plot, an elaborate, seduction, plot.”

A television commercial for Fangoso Lagoons, one of Inverarity’s housing developments in the west,
features an artificial lake with restored galleons at the bottom imported from the Bahamas, real human
skeletons from Italy, and so on—“all for the entertainment of Scuba enthusiasts.” The artificiality of
American culture is a theme imported from Sinclair Lewis, in particular from Babbitt (1922), where Lewis
implies that American high culture is imported. It is ironic that in his ridicule of American culture Pynchon
satirizes traits in his own work—imitation, artifice, vulgarity, pretense, triviality.

The movie Cashiered depicts a submarine named Justine “after the dead mother,” setting out to sea. By
analogy this refers to the “dead mother” of Oedipa—to traditional womanhood. In Latin the word justine
means just and honest. The Greek fisherman’s daughter is analogous to Oedipa and to the girl on the sign
of Echo Courts, “a leggy, ringletted nymphet who, should there be a happy ending, would end up with
Metzger.” Oedipa learns from Metzger that Pierce “wrote off” their affair down in Mazatlan as a “business
expense.” The different roles of Metzger parallel the different roles of Pierce, and when he begins to kiss
her palm, “She wondered then if this were really happening in the same way as, say, her first time in bed
with Pierce, the dead man.” Well, this is Echo Courts.

When they play “Strip Botticelli,” Oedipa goes into the bathroom and insulates herself some more with
layer upon layer of clothing. She becomes a comic opposite of the naked Venus, the goddess of love in the
most famous painting by Botticelli. Seeing herself in the mirror Oedipa laughs so violently she falls over
and knocks an aerosol can of hair spray onto the floor. This gives Pynchon an opportunity to illustrate
scientific concepts, including chaos theory, randomness, the uncertainty principle, and the Second Law of
Thermodynamics—entropy, as the energy in the can is exhausted.

Metzger rushes into the bathroom, speaks in the voice of Baby Igor and is almost struck by the rocketing
can. The scene in the bathroom echoes the movie on TV: “Metzger hit the deck and cowered with Oedipa”
as “from the other room came a slow, deep crescendo of naval bombardment, machine-gun, howitzer and
small-arms fire, screams and chopped-off prayers of dying infantry.” Becoming aggressive, Oedipa bites
Metzger “through the sharkskin.” They are on the floor in the smashed glass of the mirror when the four
Paranoids peer through the doorway—more echoes in Echo Courts: “She couldn’t tell them apart.” One girl
thinks they are doing something kinky. Another asks, “Is that a London thing you’re doing?” As if
Americans even imitate when it comes to having sex. Echo Courts is pop culture.

The Paranoids go outside and play. Metzger echoes Pierce when his eyes “pierced her,” then Oedipa
reverses gender roles again as she “fell on him, began kissing him.” Their nearly unconscious sexual
intercourse—getting “plugged in”--is echoed by the adolescent Paranoids at play. “Her climax and
Metzger’s, when it came, coincided with every light in the place, including the TV tube, suddenly going
out, dead, black…. The Paranoids had blown a fuse.” This prefigures the end of her “fuse” with Metzger.
Humans becoming machinelike due to conditioning is such a major theme in Pynchon and in Postmodernist
fiction overall that it became a new genre—“Cyberfiction.”

The parody of sentimental Hollywood movies ends with a reversal of expectations that calls attention to
mechanical stock responses and satirizes the reader for expecting a conventional happy ending. The doggie
drowns! And Baby Igor gets “electrocuted, thrashing back and forth and screaming horribly.” Pynchon
makes us feel sadistic for laughing. Having predicted disaster, anticipating her own, Oedipa wins her bet
with Metzger: “’You won me,’ Metzger smiled.” The superficial nature of her “plugging in” with both
Metzger and Pierce is clear when she learns that the two men had talked about her in terms of conquest,
which makes her cry. Nevertheless, feeling like a Barbie doll she continues her affair with Baby Igor. After
all, what attracted her to them? Money and looks.
3

The Tristero is the Counterculture against the Capitalist System represented by Pierce, who seems to
own everything. Tax the rich! Among its other connotations “Tristero” evokes a lover’s tryst, the French
word for sadness--hence the “crying” of Lot 49--and a hip secular alternative to the Trinity, as secular
liberals replace religion with politics. Oedipa thinks that if discovering the existence of The Tristero will
“bring to an end her encapsulation in her tower, then that night’s infidelity with Metzger would logically be
the starting point for it.” She hopes that getting drunk and having sex with any handsome Igor who walks in
her door will liberate her. Oedipa is a hedonist of the 1960s who senses “revelation in progress all around
her,” but in the end she never has any herself. Infidelity with Igor does not contribute to her spiritual
development. Feminists would advise her to avoid all men as Igors, but Oedipa is his equal. Her quest
originates in lack of faith and Pynchon’s satirical tone throughout the novel conveys his own lack of faith
in loving relationships and in any significant Counterculture—including Feminism—let alone any supposed
revelation from God. “I don’t believe in any of it, Oed.”

Pynchon repeats the word “revelation” to emphasize that Oedipa’s quest has a religious connotation.
Her search for the Tristero echoes a search for salvation. “Much of the revelation was to come through the
stamp collection Pierce had left, his substitute often for her.” His stamp collection is a metaphor of his
holdings. Oedipa is like a stamp he added to his collection. The other stamps are like “ex-rivals, cheated as
she by death, about to be broken up into lots on route to any number of new masters.” Further, as to any
romance beyond Mazatlan she was “cashiered”—merely a business tax deduction according to Igor. In a
larger sense, the stamp collection represents the world. Oedipa had “No suspicion at all that it might have
something to tell her.”

She and Metzger go to a bar called The Scope, calling attention to ironic limitations of perception. As
for she and her husband, they have tacitly agreed not to notice each other’s affairs. As Oed gets ever more
independent, Mucho’s insecurity is evident in his seduction of teenage girls. For a moment Oedipa actually
feels something for her husband, “call it a tenderness she’d never go quite to the back of lest she get
bogged.” Caring bogs her down. She avoids caring just as Pynchon avoids sentiment, a characteristic of
Postmodernist fiction criticized by David Foster Wallace before he hanged himself in 2008. Traditionally,
women wanted men to “get in touch with” their feelings and be more communicative. Now Feminists want
men to shut up. In becoming more like a man Oedipa is suppressing her feelings like a man: “Like all their
inabilities to communicate, this too had a virtuous motive.”

The Scope is near the Yoyodyne aerospace plant. Oedipa and Metzger go there to escape from getting
scoped out in their motel room by teenage voyeurs with passkeys who burst in “at whim on any bizarre
sexual action.” The plant workers in the bar are “engaged in a nose-picking contest, seeing how far they
could flick it across the room.” This is Pynchon’s view of national defense, paralleling boogers to rockets.
He seems to have had no respect for his co-workers at Boeing in Seattle. These workers are so conditioned
by the System they listen to electronic instead of live music. They are conservatives. They are right-wing
types like the Peter Pinguid (sounds like penguin) Society, more conservative than even the real John Birch
Society, their “left-leaning friends.” Like Pierce Inverarity, his echo Peter Penguid got rich speculating in
California real estate. Conservatives are depicted as fools and are represented by an advocate with sterile
ideas named Fallopian. Pynchon equates the North and the South in the Civil War by calling industrial
workers in the North “wage slaves” and by lumping all conservatives together as defenders of slavery in
one form or another. With apparent sympathy for Marxism he contrasts America unfavorably to Russia,
where the czar freed the slaves in 1861.

On the wall of the ladies’ room Oedipa notices an invitation to swingers: “Get in touch…through
WASTE only.” Below it in pencil is the first muted post-horn she sees--a recognition sign of the WASTE
communication system. The racetrack post-horn is muted, indicating secrecy and a countercultural stifling
of the competitive capitalist society. Fallopian confirms that WASTE mail is a secret communications
system within Yoyodyne: “We use inter-office delivery…only inside our San Narcisco chapter.” Ironically,
Fallopian and his Peter Penguid conservatives are so backward they are subversive Luddites and hence part
of the Counterculture opposing industrial capitalism, symbolized by Yoyodyne and Fangoso Lagoons. As
Metzger says later, “You’re so right-wing you’re leftwing.”

On an island in Lake Inverarity the social hall is a “reconstruction of some European pleasure-casino.
Oedipa fell in love with it.” She falls in love with a casino, not a man. There are “pleasure boats strung like
piglets along the pier.” This is the playground of capitalist pigs in cahoots with Cosa Nostra. This is
Fangoso La-goons. The lawyer Manny Di Presso is depressed because the mob is watching him. Oedipa,
Baby Igor and the Paranoids are now criminals too, having stolen a boat called Godzilla II. Whee!--a crime
spree! “Dean, the Paranoid at the helm,” is named after Dean Moriarity (Neal Cassady) in Kerouac’s On
the Road (1957), one of Pynchon’s favorite novels. Di Presso perks up when he tells Igor he is going to sue
the estate of Pierce Inverarity on behalf of his mob client. “All the time Cosa Nostra is watching.” This
introduction of the menacing Mafia sneaking around is an easy quick fix for suspense but it does not really
work because we are reading a comic book.

The bone charcoal story is Pynchon’s indictment of what he sees as the corruption and inhumanity of
the whole capitalist system. His implications are absolutist generalizations common to cynical liberals since
the 1960s: All government is corrupt: “No bribes, no freeway.” All business is corrupt, supposedly
illustrated when Inverarity acquires bones from the mob. In this Marxist fantasy the bones of American
soldiers from WWII were imported from Italy and used to decorate the bottom of Lake Inverarity for scuba
divers—disgusting capitalists--and as charcoal to filter cigarettes. The impiety of this capitalistic atrocity is
emphasized with irony and with Igor’s exclamation “My God” when we learn that the bones came to Lake
Inverarity from Lago di Pieta—invoking the famous statue by Michelangelo.

The bones were salvaged by Di Presso’s mob client, who had been an Italian soldier in alliance with the
Nazis during WWII. His sordid exploitation of the dead was motivated by a hope of using the bones as a
morbid tourist attraction to Americans such as Senator Joseph McCarthy “and others of his persuasion”—
conservatives who exposed Communists in the government—“in those days having achieved a certain
ascendancy over the rich cretini from across the sea.” Conservatives who resisted Communism are here
equated with cretins, the evil rich, the Mafia, and the Nazis. Pynchon in effect sides with the Communist
Party against the people of the United States, as he does by implication in his next novel Gravity’s Rainbow
(1973). Since Stalin signed a pact with Hitler in 1939 allying Communism with Nazism, it is Pynchon
himself who identifies with Nazis and desecrates the American dead.

American culture is so decadent according to Pynchon that, as one of the Paranoids says, it “all has a
most bizarre resemblance to that ill, ill Jacobean revenge play we went to last week.” He thinks the
decadence in the 1960s is due to capitalism rather than to the self-indulgence, fanaticism and drug use by
the Counterculture. Now the Paranoids light up joints and the Mafia is closing in—paranoia! Oedipa cons
Igor into taking her to see the revenge play The Courier’s Tragedy, a clever and accurate parody of 17th-
century Gothic drama by playwrights such as John Webster. Pynchon’s revenge play was written by
Richard Wharfinger (war-finger)--his way of giving the finger to the Vietnam War against Communism
underway when his novel was published. His parody is enjoyable as literary entertainment, full of funny
names, puns, jokes and ironies. However, as a critique of capitalism it is as Baby Igor says, “like a Road
Runner cartoon in blank verse.” This paradox applies to most of Pynchon’s work.

“The Thurn and Taxis family, who at the time held a postal monopoly throughout most of the Holy
Roman Empire,” are capitalists like Inverarity, depicted as brutal, incestuous, thieving, and murderous like
the Borgias. The Church is totally corrupt of course, represented here by “Saint Narcissus.” The first act
ends with an invocation of the “Unholy Ghost,” and the fourth ends introducing a mysterious “tryst with
Trystero.” The reference to “Pasquale’s planning to marry his mother” echoes Oedipus and all the orgies
and torture and gore top the Marquis de Sade—“too awful to talk about.” The Lost Guard of Faggio are
paralleled to the American soldiers of WWII when their bones are “made into charcoal.” The comparison
of decadent 17th-century Italy to 20th-century America is a forced parallel between Pynchon’s two fantasies
and has no dramatic or persuasive force.

When Baby Igor accuses Oed of being one of “these lib, overeducated broads with the soft heads and
bleeding hearts,” Pynchon is able at the same time to insult Feminists and to dissociate Oedipa from Igor’s
stereotype: “’Metzger,’ Oedipa whispered, embarrassed, ‘I’m a Young Republican’.” This contradicts our
expectation that the liberated woman must be a liberal and it explains why she likes men and is “executing
the will” of Inverarity. In 1966, according to liberals being a Republican was an embarrassment and a sign
of ignorance but not yet a punishable offense as it became under academic Political Correctness in the
1980s. Now that he has established that Oedipa is a Republican and not a liberal, Pynchon is free to ridicule
her as much as he likes without offense to liberals. Her politics give away the ending, since it is unlikely
that a Republican will receive a revelation.
 The director of the revenge play cast himself as the winner of the bloodbath, Gennaro, who wears gray
flannel like the ironic businessman from the 1950s “the man in the gray flannel suit.” His name Randy
Driblette suggests a lack of potency, one of the men in the novel who shrinks and disappears as entropy
proceeds into the gender war. He believes like Pynchon that reality is subjective and projected by the mind:
“I’m the projector at the planetarium.” He knows the play he projects is no better than a gory horror movie
and he has become a cynic. Driblette has spider eyes waiting “at the centres of their webs” and his defeatist
cynicism is a web he spreads like paranoia. Oedipa asks him about “the Trystero assassins.” For now,
everything “would somehow come to be woven into The Tristero.” This sustains the weaving metaphor
introduced in the first chapter by the girls in the painting who are imprisoned in a tower and embroidering a
tapestry that represents the world.
4

Oedipa decides to project a world like Driblette, “the dark machine in the centre of the planetarium, to
bring the estate into pulsing stelliferous Meaning.” Pynchon’s comparisons of people to machines is a
characteristic of Postmodernists that emphasizes conditioning, extending a theme of Naturalists such as
Norris and Dreiser. However, Postmodernists reduce the humanity of characters and distance themselves
with irony and parody, whereas the Naturalists evoke sympathy for their characters. Pynchon especially
hates Republicans: In Gravity’s Rainbow he drops a Rocket on the head of a surrogate for the Republican
leftists hated most for exposing Communists--President Nixon.

At the Yoyodyne songfest, instead of singing “The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi,” a traditional favorite and
“the tune of Cornell’s alma mater,” the shareholders and company officers turn the love song into a hymn
to making warheads, led by company president “Bloody” Chiclitz (a brand of chewing gum). They sing
praises to other defense companies building warheads, then bitch about favoritism in awarding contracts.
Pynchon never mentions the Soviet Union or the nuclear arms race or the need for national defense during
the Cold War. Instead he gives the impression that the warheads are being built for no reason but profits.
Capitalism is the evil, not Communist imperialism. Pynchon makes all the American shareholders and
workers in all the national defense plants evil warmongers eager to kill people. This is the satirical tone of
the popular movie Dr Strangelove; or, How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb (1963), a
Communist propaganda vehicle for the movement to disarm America. Pynchon borrowed the ending of that
movie and revised it for the ending of Gravity’s Rainbow.

Oedipa gets lost and begins a mock quest, not into the wilderness of Nature but into the mechanized
aerospace plant—a Postmodernist inversion. The archetypal quest leads to some enlightenment. But here,
Oedipa continues to insulate herself: “All she could think of was to put on her shades for all this light, and
wait for somebody to rescue her. But nobody noticed.” She experiences the loss of the Victorian paradigm
of gender roles and the isolation of the liberated paradigm. On her own now, she wanders, or follows
“subliminal cues in the environment to lead her to a particular person.” That person is an engineer who is
rendered infertile by the capitalist System, hence his name, Stanley Koteks (Kotex, a sanitary napkin). The
frustrated creator is doodling a muted post horn. Oedipa identifies herself as a stockholder invested in the
System. Koteks complains that he had to sign away the patent rights to any inventions he might come up
with. “’This stifles your really creative engineer,’ Koteks said, adding bitterly, ‘wherever he may be’.”
Pynchon may have had this experience working at Boeing in Seattle. Ironically, contrary to his Marxism,
he resents the frustration of his own capitalism.

Koteks tells Oedipa about the Nefastis Machine, which is based on the theory of scientist James Clerk
Maxwell, who invented a metaphor to illustrate the Second Law of Thermodynamics, called Maxwell’s
Demon. Nefastis has supposedly created a literal “honest-to-God Maxwell’s Demon.” The nefarious
Nefastis is pulling a fast one. Supposedly his “Demon” sits in a box and will sort molecules perpetually in
violation of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. But the process depends upon spirituality and “Not
everybody can work it, of course.” Only sensitives. Koteks advises Oedipa on how to be sensitive: Stare at
a picture of James Clerk Maxwell on the wall in order to fill the “honest-to-God” Demon Box with hot air.
The Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge photo, showing Maxwell in right[wing] profile,
seemed to work best.” Here Pynchon mocks Christianity and all “spirituality.”
 Koteks tries to cover up evidence of the countercultural WASTE mail system as a woman might cover
up evidence of a tampon. Fallopian confirms to Oedipa that Koteks “is part of some underground,”
implicitly The Tristero. A fictitious historical marker commemorates a stagecoach robbery in 1853 in
which a band of marauders in “mysterious black uniforms” murdered a dozen Wells Fargo men. Pynchon
suggests that the “cross” traced in the dust by a dying victim was actually “the initial T” for Tristero. This
puts these killers of the past century in the same gang with the disgruntled engineers of today like Koteks
and it makes the Tristero—criminality--an alternative belief-system to Christianity.

At Vesperhaven House, connoting Catholicism, Oedipa interviews Mr Thoth, named for an Egyptian
god of communication and much else. Thoth is reduced to watching Porky Pig cartoons. Pynchon implies
that the gods, or God, are just as infantile to believe in as a cartoon. Old Thoth remembers the cartoon
about Porky Pig and the anarchist…dressed in black.” This identifies Porky with capitalist pigs and the
Tristero with anarchism. Thoth shows Oedipa a ring adorned with “the WASTE symbol.” Sunlight pours in
“as if she had been trapped at the centre of some intricate crystal, and said, ‘My God’.” This is a kind of
revelation and the crystal is a common symbol of wholeness, but Oedipa’s crystallization is ironic. The
Tristero has become the equivalent of her God—yet it may not even exist. This is emphasized by contrast
with senile old Thoth who says he feels God close to him—“my God.”

Genghis Cohen is employed to inventory and appraise Inverarity’s stamp collection. His incongruous
names suggest that the desire in one way or another to control and rule the world—symbolized by the
stamps—transcends ethnicity. Oedipa finds the philatelist with his fly half open, as it is again at the end of
the novel. We know Cohen is a Bad Guy because he is “wearing a Barry Goldwater sweatshirt.” So out of
touch he can’t even button his fly. Two years before this novel was published, in 1964 Goldwater was the
Republican candidate for President of the United States, known as Mr. Conservative. “Oedipa felt at once
motherly.” How reactionary of her. Cohen tells her a post horn was the Thurn and Taxis coat of arms when
they had a postal monopoly in Europe. The names Thurn and Taxis—historically accurate--sound like urn
and taxes, that is, death and taxes. The Tristero wanted to “mute the Thurn and Taxis post-horn” and
perpetrated “an 800-year tradition of postal fraud.”

Oedipa heads up north to Berkeley. Throughout the novel she yoyos up and down—emotionally and
geographically—north and south like the stock market, ending down in San Narcisco for the crying. She
notices that Metzger like Mucho “did not seem desperate at her going.” At her hotel up in Berkeley there is
a convention going on of deaf mutes—an echo of the muted post horn. When the desk clerk makes sign
language at her, “Oedipa considered giving him the finger,” a recurrent impulse in fiction by Pynchon. Her
room has a reproduction on the wall by Remedios Varo, who painted the girls in the tower embroidering a
tapestry that made her cry down in Mexico with her dead lover Pierce. This reminds us that Oedipa is like
them in “projecting a world,” undermining her theory of a great conspiracy by the Tristero.

Her research leads to “no clear meaning for the word trystero, unless it be a pseudo-Italianate variant of
triste (wretched, depraved).” Oedipa feels out of date on the Berkeley campus of the 1960s, having been
educated back in the 1950s when the country was conservative with “pathologies in high places only death
had the power to cure.” This refers to efforts to stop Communist spying in the government, in particular by
Nixon and “Senator Joe” McCarthy. Conservatives led by McCarthy tried unsuccessfully to prevent U.S.
atomic secrets from being stolen by spies for the Soviet Union who were given high-level government jobs
by liberals. In calling this effort “daft,” Pynchon sides again with the Communists. Unlike Oedipa, Pynchon
fit in at radical Berkeley just as he did at Cornell.

The crewcut of John Nefastis indicates that he lives off the Berkeley campus in every sense. Uncool. He
lives in a pseudo-Mexican apartment house and wears a Polynesian shirt “dating from the Truman
administration,” details suggesting that he is a fake, a square, and even more behind the times than Oedipa.
He brings out his Machine and explains how it works to overcome entropy: “The Demon passes his data on
to the sensitive, and the sensitive must reply in kind… At some deep psychic level he must get through.
The sensitive must…feed back something like the same quantity of information. To keep it all cycling.”
He makes his Machine a metaphor of the psyche. The effort of the sensitive to communicate with the
Demon is a parody of prayer as an effort to communicate with God. Nefastis is a “believer” who is
nefarious in preaching Satanism: “Leave your mind open, receptive to the Demon’s message.”

Oedipa fails of course. Nefastis tells Oedipa how to be sensitive but he is more in heat than the Demon,
his scam to lure women. After his sensitivity training as to how to communicate as a sensitive he does not
communicate with her as a person at all before he directs her to his couch to submit to intercourse while he
watches TV. Multi-tasking. Nefastis is the fastest. “I like to do it while they talk about Viet Nam, but China
is best of all. You think about all those Chinese. Teeming. That profusion of life. It makes it sexier, right?”
Overpopulation is pro-life, hence Politically Incorrect. To Pynchon, having too many babies is a perversion
encouraged by right-wing scammers with values “dating from the Truman administration.” Apparently he
thinks all governments should rigorously enforce infanticide.

Nefastis reacts to Oedipa’s scream of disgust with the fake indifference of a hipster in a “fashion he had
doubtless learned from watching the TV also.” Oedipa like all of Pynchon’s characters expresses what he
too had doubtless learned from watching TV. All his characters are shallow and flat. Flatness of character is
typical in Postmodernist fiction as it is in Abstract Expressionist painting, a result of dehumanization. In
general, Postmodernist art eliminates God, Nature, and people.

Oedipa flees “down Telegraph” in Berkeley, ironic in a novel dramatizing lack of communication and
the corruption of data according to information theory. Her review of what she knows about Trystero
expands its theoretical composition to include “those of unorthodox sexual persuasion” and possibly “her
own husband, Mucho Maas.” If so, her husband is her secret enemy. “Either Trystero did exist, in its own
right, or it was being presumed, perhaps fantasized by Oedipa, so hung up on and interpenetrated with the
dead man’s estate.” Perhaps she is a wife fantasizing that her husband is unfaithful because she is so
liberated she is paranoid. She knows Mucho has mucho sex with teenagers, but now she suspects him of
having a tryst with Trystero.

That night Oedipa tries to escape her obsession by drifting at random around San Francisco, hoping to
convince herself that she is fantasizing a conspiracy. “But it took her no more than an hour to catch sight of
a muted post horn. A tourist pins a name badge on her indicating that her name is Arnold and she is
“Lookin’ For A Good Time!” She accepts the male name and Pynchon has already shown that she is
looking for a good time with anybody who has enough money or good looks. She allows herself to be
herded into a gay bar where she encounters somebody wearing a Trystero post horn pin. “Mute and
everything.” Turns out he belongs to Inamorati Anonymous, “isolates” who believe that love is the “worst
addiction of all.” He adds, “I was lucky. I kicked it young.”

Oedipa learns from the isolate that the post horn symbol was invented by a suicidal executive who got
“automated out of a job.” This ends the legend that it is centuries old. After witnessing his wife having sex
with the efficiency expert who cost him his job, the pathetic victim of capitalist technology founded the
society of isolates, “a whole underworld of suicides who failed.” Oedipa spends the rest of the night seeing
the post horn all around the city. Postmodernist fiction often blends reality and dream: “What fragments of
dreams came had to do with the post horn. Later, possibly, she would have trouble sorting the night into
real and dreamed.” She wonders if all the “clues” are a psychological compensation for her loss of faith in
God, “for her having lost the direct, epileptic Word, the cry that might abolish the night.”

The children in Golden Gate Park tell her they are dreaming and that “the dream was really no different
from being awake.” Like liberal voters, they “Went on warming their hands at an invisible fire. Oedipa, to
retaliate, stopped believing in them.” In a café she encounters Jesus Arrabal, an anarchist revolutionary in
exile she met during her romantic trip with Pierce down to Mexico. His name implies that the salvation of
Mexico is in the redistribution of arable land from the rich few to the mass of peasants: Jesus (savior)
Arrabal (arable). He sees Inverarity the rich capitalist as exactly “the thing we fight.” In Mexico he worked
for the CIA, but there the CIA is a revolutionary organization identified with the muted post horn. Jesus
Arrabal needed Inverarity as an enemy to provoke and inspire him. Oedipa now sees the muted post horn
everywhere: on the jackets of gang members, in the doodles of a poker game loser, in a laundromat in a
black neighborhood, in an ad for a death cult Satanist group—that should tell you something. Pynchon here
implies that Mexican revolutionaries--followers of Jesus--are deluded losers no different from followers of
Satan. A lonely deluded Mexican girl traces post horns and hearts “in the haze of her breath” on a bus
window. By now the muted post horn, the Trystero, has been identified with virtually everybody who is
unhappy—both good and evil. How such diverse and contradictory groups could ever be organized has yet
to be demonstrated. And to what end?

The cynicism of Pynchon is expressed in his ridicule of environmentalists, represented by the boy who
believes dolphins will “succeed man” (after growing legs?). The young world savior is “kissing his mother
passionately goodbye, using his tongue.” He has been perverted by conditioning to waste his time on the
passionate futile causes of his mother: “’Love the dolphins,’ she advised him. ‘Write by WASTE’.”
Oedipa encounters still more alienated people in withdrawal from the System symbolized by the U.S. Mail
(male), all “decorated” by the muted post horn. “She grew so to expect it that perhaps she did not see it
quite as often as she later was to remember seeing it.” She is “projecting a world.” Paranoia exaggerates,
again subverting her conspiracy theory. At least she is able to recognize her previous naivete: “That
optimistic baby had come on so like the private eye in any long-ago radio drama, believing all you needed
was grit, resourcefulness, exemption from hidebound cops’ rules, to solve any great mystery.”

Oedipa concludes that the “profusion of post horns, this malignant, deliberate replication” is compelling
evidence that a malignant Trystero exists. Now she feels like Manny Di Presso that “They” are out to get
her. “They knew her pressure points, and the ganglia of her optimism, and one by one, pinch by precision
pinch, they were immobilizing her.” Pynchon reduces “miracles” from spiritual revelations to mechanical
cause and effect: “a kiss of cosmic pool balls.” So who is taking the shots? When she comes upon an old
sailor “shaking with grief she couldn’t hear,” she is fascinated by the post horn tattooed on his left hand.
The left hand is identified in psychology and literature with the metaphors left brain and heart. The old
sailor shows her where to mail his letter to his wife for him through the WASTE system—“under the
freeway.” Oedipa is moved to comfort him and “took the man in her arms, actually held him.” She becomes
“sensitive” in the best sense. She has a heart after all, but “’I can’t help,’ she whispered, rocking him.” It is
maternal instinct, “as if he were her own child,” reminding us that she has no child. In the end her maternal
generosity is rewarded with an insult: “’Bitch,’ said the sailor.” Pynchon’s cynicism nullifies the only
tender moment in the novel, indicating that he belongs to the society of isolates.

Pynchon is Postmodernist in disbelieving in love and in metaphor: “The act of metaphor then was a
thrust at truth and a lie, depending where you were: inside, safe, or outside, lost. Oedipa did not know
where she was.” Metaphors are “thrusts” at truth in science. In literature metaphors are truth—of feeling,
perception, and vision. Such metaphors transcend vertical consciousness—literalness and dissociation—
unifying the hemispheres of the brain in images: sense and sensibility, material and spiritual. Pynchon
cannot transcend dissociated rational consciousness. He is locked in the top of his psyche like one of the
girls in the painting embroidering a tapestry—like Oedipa.

Oedipa mails the old sailor’s letter, follows a WASTE mail carrier and ends up back where she started at
the apartment house of John Nefastis. Back in her hotel the deaf mutes at their convention are all drunk and
wearing party hats copied from “Chinese Communist jobs made popular during the Korean conflict.” They
are like literally muted post horns. Oedipa is pulled into the ballroom where deaf mutes are dancing, each
couple to their own music. As she is danced around by a partner she wonders how the deaf couples avoid
collisions. This is Pynchon’s political ideal, the utopian communal dream that prevailed in the 1960s
Counterculture: (1) anarchy, each person free to dance to his own tune; yet somehow at the same time (2)
social harmony; and (3) life as a party. Oedipa is “demoralized” at the spectacle of this “anarchist miracle.”
Ah, life would be perfect if we all were deaf and dumb. In his fiction Pynchon repeatedly puts on his
Communist party cap and plays deaf and dumb to facts, dancing solo to his own tune.

Oedipa goes to consult Dr. Hilarius, whose name foretells more futility. Having established that there is
indeed a WASTE mail system she jumps to the conclusion that there must also be a malignant Tristero.
There was a time when smiley faces were as everywhere as post horns but that did not mean there was a
smiley face conspiracy to overthrow the government. Just then, as if confirming the worst, Oedipa hears
gunshots—“she was a clear target.” But the shooter turns out to be Hilarius, whose assistant is “close to
hysteria.” Her name is Blamm like a gunshot. Like Di Presso and Oedipa, Hilarius “thinks someone’s after
him.” Blamm blames “nutty broads” who made him feel terrorized. “He couldn’t cope.” We learn that
Hilarius interned at Buckenwald concentration camp, where he was a “humane” liberal who rendered Jews
catatonic rather than gassing them. After the war he did penance by becoming a Freudian.

In his suicidal mania, Hilarius is most concerned about whether he has been a “good enough Freudian.”
His own contribution to psychiatric technique is making faces. Trying to cope with his female patients has
caused him to lose faith in his god: “Freud’s vision of the world had no Buchenwalds in it. Buchenwald,
according to Freud, once the light was let in, would become a soccer field, fat children would learn flower-
arranging and solfeggio in the strangling rooms. At Auschwitz the ovens would be converted over to petit
fours and wedding cakes, and the V-2 missiles to public housing for the elves.” In turning against Freud the
Jew and seeing Israelites as his enemies, Hilarius reverts to being a Nazi. As police sirens wail close, he
threatens to make a face of mass destruction with an effective radius of a hundred yards.

It turns out Hilarius never took LSD himself, that he did not need a drug to go insane: “I chose to remain
in relative paranoia, where at least I know who I am and who the others are.” He does not even recognize
Oedipa. Ironically, hilariously, she urges Hilarius to “accept the reality principle,” though she herself
cannot determine what reality might be. Their roles reverse as Oed again becomes an ineffectual therapist.
Turning him over to the police, she calls him “Hitler Hilarius,” which might have given Don DeLillo the
idea for “Hitler Studies” in White Noise (1985).

Mucho interviews Oed on KCUF as an eyewitness to the Hilarius event, calling her Edna Mosh to allow
for “distortion.” Mucho has been distorted by LSD and neither he nor Oed are the same people they were
before she got distorted by paranoia. At the radio station the program director tells her Mucho has become
less so: “He’s losing his identity, Edna, how else can I put it? Day by day, Wendell is less himself and more
generic.” In the 1960s Feminists were beginning to characterize all men as generic misogynists and rapists.
Mucho is sensitive to everything in the air. Withdrawing from his wife, he regresses to dating giddy
teenagers. He and Oed go to a pizzeria where he grooves on the generic Muzak.

Mucho now comes on “like a whole roomful of people”—the Mucho Maas masses. This is a parody
ridiculing not only (1) excessive drug use, but also (2) all religious and mystical experience transcending
ego; and (3) spiritual democracy as experienced and celebrated by Whitman, Hawthorne, Melville, Twain,
Cather, and others in the American tradition. All the saints and all the messiahs--Pynchon thinks they were
all hallucinating. Feeling at one with another and with others is to experience what Melville called “our
divine equality.” In China traditionally the individual self is communal and divisible into various selves, as
illustrated by Maxine Hong Kingston in The Woman Warrior (1976). Locked up in his tower of vertical
consciousness, Pynchon denies the possibility of escape, depicting transcendence of ego as a permanent
loss of identity. LSD must have scared the hell out of him.

Of course, Mucho consumes much too much. He is depicted as fragmenting and regressing through
adolescence to infantilism. Oed now calls him her “Baby”—like Baby Igor—and feels “afraid for him.”
He tells her of his nightmares about the sign on his lot that said nada—N.A.D.A. for the National
Automobile Dealers Association. He is overusing LSD to escape Nothingness, the existentialist Void
confronted by Atheists. The day Oed left him and took on her masculine role “was the day she’d seen
Mucho for the last time. So much of him already had dissipated.” The Tristero stamp cancellation on his
letter to her places Mucho in the WASTE system. Never macho in the first place, Mucho represents the
shrinking of male identity in America as women become like men. Mucho and Metzger both shrink to
babies, Hilarius is a shrink, and Randy the director is a Driblette.

Oedipa returns to Echo Courts and learns that Metzger has run off with Serge’s “chick” to get married,
an echo of Mucho with teenagers. In response Serge of The Paranoids sings a song referring to his date
with “an eight-year-old, and she’s a swinger just like me…so far only imaginary,” but “he was hanging
diligently around playgrounds.” Pynchon claims to be an anarchist, yet his satire here suggests that it
occurs to him that swinging with an eight-year-old is going too far, that anarchism is harmful to children.
In Metzger’s goodbye note there is “No word to recall that Oedipa and Metzger had ever been more than
co-executors. Which must mean, thought Oedipa, that that’s all we were.” Their personal relationship
meant as little to him as it did to her, apparently. Or is she disappointed? That sexual anarchism hurts and
may kill in at least an emotional sense is implied by the pun “co-executors.”

The gun dealer at the government surplus outlet is a stereotype of right-wing capitalist redneck racist
Nazism. His nickname is Winner. Pynchon does not credit Americans with defeating the Nazis in World
War II because he sees Americans as Nazis. The gun dealer sells Nazi SS uniforms and claims to be selling
so many swastika armbands he ran short. Pynchon makes him a crude uneducated lowlife who advertises in
girlie magazines and uses the N-word routinely. He names him Winthrop to suggest degeneration from
John Winthrop the Puritan leader of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Pynchon makes the Nazi gun dealer
the personification of America. As she leaves Oedipa wonders why she did not call him a name or hit him
with a heavy blunt object. Feeling righteous, she converts to liberalism. Oedipa is Pynchon’s politically
correct stock response, anticipating the intolerant liberals in higher education after the 1960s: “This is
America.” Really? America is a right-wing capitalist redneck racist Nazi?

A few years before publishing this novel, Pynchon wrote an article about the Watts riot of blacks in Los
Angeles. His implicit agenda in this scene in Lot 49 is gun control, again contradicting his claim to be an
anarchist. The gun dealer is EVIL because he sells guns. Somebody should hit him with a blunt object.
Pynchon tries to legitimize his hatred by making the brute a racist, which is incidental to the issue of gun
control. He tries to evoke increasing paranoia in Oedipa the more she learns about her hostile environment,
yet he believes Americans should not be allowed to defend themselves against the hostile environment--
rioters, criminals, terrorists, the Tristero or our own heavily armed Government. Pynchon wants to disarm
us so people who agree with him can hit us with blunt objects.

Oedipa calls herself a chicken for not hitting the gun dealer with a blunt object. Apparently, to save
America from America, she should have vaulted the counter and attempted to clobber the gun dealer with a
blunt object before getting shot. Apparently, a woman living alone should protect herself by clobbering all
the gun dealers with blunt objects before one of them breaks into her home in the middle of the night with a
gun. “This is America,” she says, “you live in it, you let it happen.” Oedipa “let” the country turn into a
right-wing capitalist redneck racist Nazi? How ever did she do that? Oh, of course. By voting Republican.
Fantasy allows Pynchon to propagandize. As to racism, for starters, Republicans freed the slaves from the
other party. As a deaf and dumb propagandist, Pynchon avoids mentioning the Vietnam War against
Communists going on during the time he wrote the novel because it was not started by a Republican and he
is wearing his Communist party cap.

Her research leads Oedipa to Emory Bortz the Berkeley professor of English whose house is “in the
style of Fangoso Lagoons,” identifying him with the corrupt capitalist system. Ironically, he is obsessed
with corrupt texts. His wife Grace Bortz does not appear to be a right-wing capitalist redneck racist Nazi.
Grace asks Oedipa how she got away from her children: “I don’t have any.” Nevertheless, Oed has the
“certain harassed style” of a woman with kids, indicating that liberation has not been so free after all. She
learns from Professor Bortz that Driblette the director had walked into the ocean and drowned himself
wearing his gray Gennaro suit, driven to suicide in despair by capitalism and the Void. Oedipa’s reaction to
the news is paranoid: “they are stripping away, one by one, my men.” Who is “they”? Driblette walked into
the ocean. No conspiracy pushed him. Placing the concept of predestination in historical context, Pynchon
summarizes the beliefs of the Puritan Scuryhamite religious sect in the 17th century. To them, the Tristero
symbolized “the Other quite well”—some opposite Principle, something blind, soulless; a brute automatism
that led to eternal death.” Here the Tristero represents malignant Nature in the pessimistic Naturalism of
Pynchon following his model Henry Adams.

Bortz tells Oedipa about an attack centuries ago by Tristero bandits who murdered travelers, quoting
their leader, whose speech is Pynchon’s parody of the U.S. Postal Service oath. Tristero was founded in
1577 by “Hernando Joaquin de Tristero y Calavera, perhaps a madman, perhaps an honest rebel, according
to some only a con artist.” After he lost his Thurn and Taxis postal monopoly to a cousin, he called himself
The Disinherited, started attacking couriers and “added to his iconography the muted post horn and a dead
badger with its feet in the air.” Oedipa wonders if they murdered Driblette: “If they got rid of you for the
reason they got rid of Hilarius and Mucho and Metzger.” However, there is no evidence that “Tristero” had
anything to do with Driblette walking into the ocean nor with Hilarius going mad—his assistant blamed
“nutty broads”—nor with Mucho shrinking from her nor with Metzger running away with a “chick.” Now a
representative Feminist, Oed does not consider that rejection of her by Mucho and Metzger may reflect
upon her as much as upon them, she blames a conspiracy against her.

Pynchon dismisses (1) the possibility of a conspiracy against Oedipa by emphasizing how elaborate it
would have to be, which drains suspense from the last scene in the book; (2) therefore her fear of a plot
against her is paranoid fantasy, which increases the satire at the end; (3) at the same time, Pynchon has
established the existence—metaphorically--of a secret Tristero communication system and has scattered
around so many post horns that he has already proved she is not hallucinating. The WASTE mail system is
implausible in the real world, making the novel more fantastic. Using waste disposal containers is an
unreliable communications system because it is so vulnerable to garbage collectors and theft, a negative
reflection on government by the anarchistic Counterculture. Ironically, the competing mail system of the
Marxist Counterculture is capitalism turning a Big Government monopoly into a free market. (4) Now
somewhat wasted herself, Oed sees the “official government delivery system,” the capitalist System, as
“spiritually” impoverishing. This from the most spiritually impoverished American novelist. Putting on his
Communist party cap again, Pynchon implies that nobody in America likes their job (that is why the
immigrants keep flooding in). He thinks workers would be so much happier deaf and dumb and choking to
death on pollution in Communist China.

In the end, “Every access route to the Tristero could be traced also back to the Inverarity estate.” This
suggests that even the Counterculture is controlled by the capitalist System. The narrator recasts a popular
expression in saying “Pierce Inverarity only knows,” suggesting that capitalism has replaced God, a theme
also in Gravity’s Rainbow. Oedipa is a Republican converted to righteous liberalism by seeing America as
Pynchon does, as personified in the right-wing capitalist redneck racist Nazi gun dealer. Like the antiwar
radicals in the street during the 1960s Pynchon polarizes the Counterculture against the Establishment,
reducing enormous diversity to two monolithic forces of Good and Evil and reducing people to abstractions
in a comic book cosmos. He demonizes with the crudity of war propaganda. Pynchon is not even a good
Marxist since he sloppily equates American workers with evil capitalists.

The worst that Pynchon can say of capitalism in this chapter is that it is dull. He whimpers about “the
absence of surprise to life, that harrows the head of every American you know, and you too, sweetie.”
Most people would prefer a job to surprises. The Crying of Lot 49 has been seen as a hip representation of
the 1960s, yet Pynchon denies the cultural diversity of the 60s exploding all around him. His novel itself
renders the women’s movement and a great diversity of other groups, yet he rests his argument on obvious
nonsense. He is a typical liberal in claiming that everyone agrees with him—“you too, sweetie.” On the
contrary, most Americans in the turbulent 1960s were not “harrowed” by boredom.

What most harrows Oedipa and Pynchon is Atheism. Oedipa invokes God but then rejects faith: “For
this, oh God, was the void.” This voids in advance the pretense of religious import in the last scene of the
novel. Pynchon fills his void with angst and subversive politics—“opposition masquerading as allegiance.”
Pynchon could be one of the con-artists in Melville’s The Confidence-Man along with Poe. This attitude
was characteristic of the Communists in the 1930s and of the anarchists in the 1960s. Pynchon’s dislike of
mothers is also consistent with the leftist program enforced especially by Feminists of discrediting the
traditional family. In one of Tristero’s stamps in the “Mothers of America Issue, put out on Mother’s Day,
1934, the flowers to the lower left of Whistler’s Mother had been replaced by Venus’s-flytrap, belladonna,
poison sumac and a few others.”

Oedipa has been identified metaphorically with Lot 49, now revealed as “forgeries,” a further comment
on her romantic folly down in Mexico. Genghis Cohen tells her to expect a mysterious bidder who “may be
from Tristero.” For the first time, this seems to establish that Tristero is more than a mass movement of the
disgrunted with a secret communication system, that it is some kind of entity. However, the narrator
continues to refer to its existence as still uncertain. The news that she will probably have to confront the
Tristero at the stamp auction renders Oedipa suicidal, though it is difficult to understand why. “Then she
went out and drove on the freeway for a while with her lights out, to see what would happen.”
 In weepy desperation, she calls The Greek Way in San Francisco and gets the “fuzz-headed Inamorato
Anonymous she’d talked to there” on the phone, identifying herself as Arnold Snarb and confessing her
inability to maintain her identity as Oed in a male role. “’I was in the little boys’ room,’ he said. ‘The
men’s room was full’.” According to Pynchon, homosexual anarchy includes little boys. Arnold confesses
to defeat and begs for information: “they’ve saturated me. From here on I’ll only close them out. You’re
free.” But he cannot help her/him. He also has failed as an isolate. Apparently he fell in love while in the
little boy’s room, a gay version of Mucho and Metzger with their teenagers and Serge with his dream of an
eight-year-old swinger. American males are regressing and inverting.

“She stood between the public booth and the rented car, in the night, her isolation complete, and tried to
face toward the sea. But she’d lost her bearings. She turned, pivoting on one stacked heel, could find no
mountains either.” Suicidal, she is “pivoting” on a single “stacked heel” like a machine without “bearings”
out of control and near falling to pieces like V. Oed is alienated from Nature, its power of spiritual renewal
represented by the sea, an archetypal symbol of the unconscious, and from the potential spiritual elevation
and transcendence represented by mountains. The sea did not renew Driblette because he brought no more
to it than Oedipa does. She acknowledges her alienation from her own nature when she identifies herself as
Arnold Snarb. Though she is on a “quest,” she cannot “find” a mountain range—transcendence—because
“Pierce Inverarity was really dead.” Like God. She has lost faith in love, God, America, and herself. “She
walked down a stretch of railroad track next to the highway.” This parallels her to a train, ironically a
traditional symbol of Progress and aptly also a symbol of mechanistic determinism in the tradition of
Dreiser and Norris and other Naturalists.

“She had dedicated herself, weeks ago, to making sense of what Inverarity had left behind, never
suspecting that the legacy was America.” This makes the allegory explicit: Inverarity is the capitalistic
American spirit of conquest, the drive “to possess, to alter the land, to bring new skylines, personal
antagonisms, growth rates into being.” Inverarity joins the other representative self-made businessmen in
American literature—Silas Lapham, Frank Cowperwood, Magnus Derrick, George Babbitt, Jay Gatsby,
Thomas Sutpen. Unlike his predecessors, however, Pynchon attacks the capitalist economic system that
built America, deeming it Inverarity—invalid. He includes in his embodiment of Inverarity a simplistic
Marxist metaphor of the capitalist economy as manifest in the stock market: “‘Keep it bouncing,’ he told
her once, ‘that’s all the secret, keep it bouncing’.” Supposedly, one individual is able to control the whole
economy like a yoyo. This metaphor has since cracked apart because the elitist stock market is no longer
connected to the economy that includes the working class.

The question raised about Inverarity—invalid America—is whether Oedipa will “yet be his heiress,”
whether the woman’s movement will lead to a matriarchal government like that of Malta in V. Pynchon
suggests that Inverarity turned over America to Oed because he was “so cynically sure of being wiped out.”
Fantastically, Pynchon is predicting that all the hundreds of thousands of capitalists, business people and
shareholders in America—of both genders--who are embodied in the one Pierce Inverarity are going to
impoverish themselves in unison and hand over all their assets to liberated women as a cynical gender war
revenge joke because by 1966 they have all of them already destroyed America. The yoyo economy is now
a sinister Patriarchal plot to make liberated women the fall guys. Feminists should note Pynchon’s lack of
faith in women, though he blames men for female paranoia. Oedipa is not up to the challenge. The
destruction of America is prefigured in “the stripped shells of wrecked Plymouths”—in reference to the
founding colony at Plymouth in 1620. “What was left to inherit?”

Oedipa has swung so far left from Republican to Socialist that she welcomes the redistribution of wealth
in America: “What would the probate judge have to say about spreading some kind of a legacy among them
all, all those nameless, maybe as a first installment?” Now she considers “joining Tristero.” In his comic
book world, Pynchon reduces her choices to absolutes of either/or: either participate in society or subvert
and destroy it. No compromises. “She had heard all about excluded middles; they were bad shit, to be
avoided; and how had it ever happened here, with the chances once so good for diversity?” Again Pynchon
denies that the most diverse country on earth is diverse. In putting everybody who has a job in the same
capitalist bag with Inverarity he is blind to diversity. He compares his thinking to a digital computer. As
machinelike as Oedipa on her one stacked heel, Pynchon says excluded middles are to be avoided and then
he excludes middles. Everything is “Ones and zeroes.”
 Yet the alternatives he poses as either/or are not at all computerlike, not objective nor logical, they are
subjective, arbitrary and demonstrate nothing. For example, “the bones of the GI’s at the bottom of Lake
Inverarity were there either for a reason that matters to the world, or for skin divers and cigarette smokers.”
In the end Oedipa feels so alienated from evil patriarchal America that if there is no true Counterculture, no
Tristero, she will be paranoid forever. She will have no tryst, will remain forever “unfurrowed” and will
never have a baby, unlike Grace Bortz. By now some readers may think it better for the country if Oedipa
Maas does not reproduce. Feminists will notice the implication that a woman needs to have a baby to attain
grace and feel fulfilled, even if “harassed.” On this point Pynchon is a Victorian.

Oedipa comes to the auction hoping for a revelation. “I’m only being a busybody.” This makes it hard to
feel that she is any jeopardy and it is not a religious attitude. As it turns out, the only revelation she gets is
that the gross Genghis Cohen may succeed the slick Inverarity in bed with her—more echoing. “’Your fly
is open,’ whispered Oedipa. She was not sure what she’d do when the bidder revealed himself.” It is worth
reading the novel just for this joke. Oedipa is referring to the Tristero bidder, whoever he is, whereas
Pynchon is referring to the penis of Cohen as a bidder for relations with Oedipa, who may or may not
accept—“she was not sure what she’d do.”

The fly puns on the famous line from Emily Dickinson, “I heard a fly buzz when I died.” The audacity
and resonance of this obscene joke determines the tone of the ending and renders the religious atmosphere
merely an evocation of Oedipa’s paranoia in a parody of faith. Pynchon is also implicitly comparing
himself with Dickinson as a recluse in an ironic contrast of beliefs and values. The speaker in Dickinson’s
poem is dead!—in imagination, theory, or “fact.” Although the poem is about experiencing doubt on the
verge of death, that the speaker can speak of it afterward is ironic affirmation, even “proof,” of an
afterlife—of Immortality. Pynchon’s pun on “fly” is likewise an anti-climax, but he is an Atheist satirizing
the Christian anticipation of ultimate revelation, whereas Dickinson is a Christian recanting occasional
doubt. Pynchon’s punning allusion promotes a perception of himself as a shy reclusive genius comparable
to Dickinson, of equivalent literary stature. But he is the fly.

The stamp auction is held on a Sunday, culminating the religious motif sustained throughout the novel—
“an odd, religious instant”; “revelations”; “quest.” The auctioneer Loren Passerine “spread his arms in a
gesture that seemed to belong to the priesthood of some remote culture; perhaps to a descending angel.” A
passerine is an order of bird including the raven. The metaphorical angel here is the black angel of death
that Oedipa feels descending upon her like the fly in the Dickinson poem. The death she anticipates with
terror is spiritual, that she will end up Arnold Snarb, or in relations with Genghis Cohen become like the
artificial nymph on the sign of Echo Courts with a face “much like Oedipa’s.”

The auction room scene is very Expressionistic in style, as her paranoid perceptions are projective. All
the people in the room are males, all wearing black mohair, and all with “pale, cruel faces.” This is all a
male conspiracy against her. Passerine is “like a puppet-master,” embodying the themes of (1) people in
general becoming dehumanized by capitalism and the Patriarchy; (2) determinism in the traditions of
Calvinism and literary Naturalism; and (3) Oedipa’s feeling manipulated by malignant conspiratorial forces
beyond her control. A paranoid Feminist, she interprets Passerine’s “smiling” look as ominous, as if he is
saying, “I’m surprised you actually came.” She looks around for her “target, her enemy.” She is focused
outward on identifying a representative of Tristero, never inward on any spiritual dimension, and she has
already rejected faith in God. The final irony in the novel is anti-climax. This is merely a stamp auction.
The ending of The Crying of Lot 49 is a parody of faith in religious revelation paralleled with faith in
political salvation by a countercultural revolution. Double parody of paralleled belief systems—Christianity
and Capitalism--likewise ends Gravity’s Rainbow.
Michael Hollister (2014)