Pynchon at his most accessible yet lengthy(so long I kept thinking I was being reminded of another novel and realizing it was an earlier section). A million intersecting ideas, characters, and plots wrapped in ribald humor and paranoid speculation, reading sometimes like H.G. Wells meets Cormac McCarthy tied all together with a flair of Dante, Conrad, and Borges. One of Pynchon's best, up there with M&D, G.R. and V.(all initials...I win). Pynchon parodies and pastiches L.A. noir, gothic western, steampunkery of Pullman,Mieville, and Moorcock, picareques, and an absurd spy story. Pynchon using all the tropes and wonders of pulp,science fiction, and fantasy to kaleidescope all our nightmares and hopes in a monolithic gnostic vision. Is it hell's history from now on?