While B. is trekking through Infinite Jest, I’ve finally picked up Pynchon’s Mason & Dixon, which was sitting on my shelf for years. Holy wow, am I glad I did. The pseudo-18th-century language seems like a stumbling block at first, but as long as you don’t worry too much about not knowing some of the historical & nautical references, it reads just as smoothly as Gravity’s Rainbow—so, not really very smoothly, but tons of fun, because he can stuff three philosophical digressions and 33 jokes and 333 weirdly perfect choices of word & image into a few lines. I keep having to put it down every few pages like a strong drink, from surprise.

The unapologetic mix of straight history with bizarre bullshit is also the kind of thing I like. One of my favorite parts so far is where Mason, sick of having to explain to people why they didn’t really “lose” eleven days in the calendar reform of 1750, starts telling them that the government actually hid the 11 days away as a strategic reserve, and secretly colonized those days with an army of strange immigrants from countries where there’s no concept of time so the days will never pass; you never see the colonists because they’re living in the old calendar, except if you think about it, you’ll always remember having seen them 11 days ago. It’s a typical Pynchon effect where you can just go with the flow and just enjoy the goofy riff, and at the same time be creeped out by how people are responding to Mason’s story, and how close this is to the kind of thing people really do fall for. (And also be weirdly moved by the other digression inside that story: that in the culture these people come from, there are three genders: men, women, and the dead.)

I’m learning a few real things too. I’m sorry to say I never knew two of my former hometowns—Lancaster and Millersville, PA—were the sites of an infamous vigilante massacre against the Conestoga tribe. There’s a lot more here.

Covering some of the same years and longitudes, but about as different as can be, there’s a great French comic that’s out in English now: Bourbon Island 1730. I always liked Lewis Trondheim’s art but there’s an extra oomph and life to it here, partly because of how he draws all the trees and bushes and houses (with sort of a Tove Janssonish quality sometimes) and partly because of how really grim Appollo’s script is underneath the light touch. Anyway, read this if you want to read about some pirates.