Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon -- It's the funniest, the saddest, most disturbing, most beautiful, most disgusting, most rewarding, most amazing novel I've ever read, and the best novel I probably ever will read. The writing is so good that you'll want to read it aloud to savor ever syllable. A sprawling cast (you'll need to take notes to keep track of everyone, seriously) set in Europe during the waning months of WWII. If you have an interest in World War II, physics, rocketry, mathematics, psychology, musicals, statistics, sexual deviancy, Tarot cards, drug usage, mysticism, filmmaking, synchronicity, and conspiracy theories, then this is the book for you! It's a challenging post-modern work, but, if you read Cormac McCarthy, you can handle it. I highly recommend reading
A Gravity's Rainbow Companion by Steven Weisenburger concurrently for illumination of the more obscure references.
What Jessica said-- hair much shorter, wearing a darker mouth of different outline, harder lipstick, her typewriter banking in a phalanx of letters between them-- was: "We're going to be married. We're trying very hard to have a baby."
All at once there is nothing but his asshole between Gravity and Roger. "I don't care. Have his baby. I'll love you both-- just come with me Jess, please ... I need you...."
She flips a red lever on her intercom. Far away a buzzer goes off. "Security." Her voice is perfectly hard, the word still clap-echoing in the air as in through the screen door of the Quonset office wth a smell of tide flats come the coppers, looking grim. Security. Her magic word, her spell against demons.
