Inherent...like, what was I saying?

Deep in the Amazon live ancient tribes, who for centuries have avoided contact with the Western world, avoiding the trappings of things such as television, grocery stores and even money. They live off the land and practice customs that would be alien to anyone plucked from the city. But if I were to have parachuted into one of these tribes tomorrow, I would probably better understand them than I would of the people of Los Angeles in the 1960s, as portrayed in Inherent Vice, by acclaimed and reclusive author Thomas Pynchon.

I have heard of Pynchon referred to as a giant of American literature, yet I’ve never read any of his books. I thought it was a time to rectify this, although I certainly picked an odd book. It’s the story of a private eye detective set in the hippie age. The detective in question, Doc Sportello, is lead investigator, read, only investigator, at LSD Investigations (which he insists stands for Location, Surveillance, Detection). Doc, and indeed the majority of the cast inside, spends an overabundant amount of time smoking copious amounts and all manner of “illegal substances” (yes, I know, I’m a “square”), to the detriment of the plot trying to find its way out. Personally, I have no experience with the stuff, don't like it, don't want it, so you can imagine my utter confusion with the actions these characters take.

Of course, if drugs weren’t involved, the book might have only been 50 pages long. The mystery (which involves, in no particular order, crooked cops, good cops, a biker gang, real estate mogul, an ex-girlfriend, FBI, mistresses, a mysterious ship, sanatoriums, Aryan/Nazi sympathizers, drug cartels, a band and several bad drug trips) was certainly made more complicated and more confusing by the lifestyle these characters lead. At certain points, like one long drug trip, Doc takes the reader on detours from the mystery; detours with no discernable tie to the main plot, other than that it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Of course, perhaps that is the point: to take a look at a culture who wanted nothing more than the freedom to do what they wanted (even if I don't agree with it). And in the end, through the haze, Doc has gained a measure of the freedom that he craved for himself and others. Whether he came out on the side of the angels or the devils, though, is a debate that he wants left to others.

I wanted to read something different, out of my comfort zone, and this was definitely it. It was an odd book, occasionally rambling, sometimes confusing. It is stereotypical in places, uncomfortable in others. I have to imagine, though, that this was the effect Pynchon wanted to achieve for the reader; a disorienting feeling that leaves you going, “Whoa, man, what just happened?”

Also, may I add that if everyone in the 60s talked like they do in the book, with a lot of question marks? Like they want some sort of confirmation to everything they say? Know what I’m talking about? If everyone talked like that, I’m surprised that anyone was able to have a conversation without wanting to whack the other guy upside the head. Debate team must have been a full contact sport.

Inherent Vice is a trippy book, one that disappoints as a mystery, but succeeds as a character study and succeeds, as funny as it sounds, at finding some heart; once you clear away the smoke, that is.

Oh, I guess I do have one thing in common with Doc. If he asked me if I’ve ever done any lines, I can nod my head and say, “Yes, actually, I’ve written many of them.”