"The chance that automatic-weapons fire might break out at any minute put a sort of motivational edge on the day."
"The past, hey no shit, it’s an open invitation to wine abuse."
"Sunlight reflected from east-facing apartment windows has begun to show up in blurry patterns on the fronts of buildings across the street. Two-part buses, new on the routes, creep the crosstown blocks like giant insects. Steel shutters are being rolled up, early trucks are double-parking, guys are out with hoses cleaning off their piece of sidewalk. Unsheltered people sleep in doorways, scavengers with huge plastic sacks full of empty beer and soda cans head for the markets to cash them in, work crews wait in front of buildings for the super to show up. Runners are bouncing up and down at the curb waiting for lights to change. Cops are in coffee shops dealing with bagel deficiencies. Kids, parents, and nannies wheeled and afoot are heading in all different directions for schools in the neighborhood. Half the kids seem to be on new Razor scooters, so to the list of things to keep alert for add ambush by rolling aluminum."
"An old bank building, entered by way of a lobby whose ceiling is so high that back before smoking was outlawed sometimes you couldn’t even see it."
Thomas Pynchon (2013). Bleeding Edge. Nova Iorque: The Penguin Press.
Estou a ser levado de enxurrada pelo Bleeding Edge de Thomas Pynchon. O estilo narrativo coloquial é de uma muito elevada mas elegante complexidade, o humor elaborado desperta sorrisos quando percebemos o sentido da frase e o choque a colisão com a hipermodernidade é implacável. Suspeito que esta seja uma grande leitura, que deliciará pela vitalidade das ideias e elegância literária.