Pynchon Myself

April 21, 2010

There’s been a recent remake re-imagining of the 80s alien invasion TV series V first broadcast late last year (and currently on Korean cable). I don’t have a whole lot to say about it, other than all the cutting-edge CGI in the world won’t top that reveal in the original series when Diana ate the fucking gerbil and thus it will be utterly incapable of shitting me up like that scene did when I was a little ‘un.

However, the reappearance of these reimagined, reptile aliens has prompted a confession from my good self. Years ago I read what I didn’t then-realise was a mere novelization of the original V sci-fi miniseries. I was perhaps 12 years old and I thought I was reading a sci-fi novel called V that was eventually developed into a TV show. Sometime later, in university and studying postmodern writing, I stumbled across some information on the author Thomas Pynchon, acclaimed writer of such novels as Gravity’s Rainbow, The Crying of Lot 49 and a book called V.

I thought Thomas Pynchon wrote a science fiction novel about alien reptiles that invade Earth in human disguise. I couldn’t remember the name on the book cover I read as a child and just assumed it had been that of the reclusive and celebrated author. At the time (and to this day) I hadn’t actually read any of Pynchon’s books but as soon as I next caught an episode of the original V miniseries being rerun on television I started poring over it in an attempt to identify all sorts of postmodern themes and clever literary shit that I assumed had to be buried under the facade of a mainstream sci-fi show. Thankfully, I managed to avoid what could have resulted in a truly fucking horrendous faux pas, had I been involved in some wrist-flapping literary discussion at a dinner party where the conversation turned to Pynchon. A further, cursory investigation into the author revealed to me that his novel, V., was not in fact about alien reptiles invading Earth in order to acquire the planet’s resources. This embarrassing anecdote I hereby lay before you as a shining example of an ego healthy enough to admit its fuck-ups.



  1. Ooooooh! That would have been a delicious one. All the victims of your scatter gun pedantry would dine out on that for years. Quite excellent pun play there by the way.

  2. Yeah, that shit could have been my “prestige cars” moment for the 21st century. Mockery all up in this motherfucker!

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