In 2026 I read Shadow Ticket by Thomas Pynchon.
For any other author a work as dense with historical research, dialect, and atmosphere would be a major accomplishment. For ol’ Tom this is what we in the biz would refer to as a “lesser work.”
This is Pynchon at his pulpiest. Unfortunately maybe my least favorite of the 6 of his novels I’ve read so far.
There’s still a lot of great stuff in here, don’t get me wrong. It just all feels a bit more slapped together. The book is more like a victory lap. Turns out the world is just as absurd and antic as his earlier works made it out to be.
Bears mentioning that I chose to read this while stuck at home caring for a newborn, so it’s quite possible that the fault is mine and the work is more impressive than my sleep-deprived brain is capable of processing.