Since commencing my Summer sabbatical from gestalt real-time reviewing proper, I have been reading two amazing books: ‘American Pastoral’ by Philip Roth and ‘Against the Day’ by Thomas Pynchon, the latter being a HUGE novel in every sense, where I have, via some tentacular tales of LOST-like dynamiters, reached the end of the first section with a Jules Vernian NEMONYMOUS NIGHT-like entry into a hollow earth by the airship chums. Absolutely breath-taking, adventurous, constructively dense. Priestly Adjacency. The Roth book, meanwhile, is full of Wrath, pacy yet textured, relentless, incantatory…surely something that is capable of changing its readers lives. Genes with their gloves off. About halfway through so far in that one. Only about a tenth of the way through in the Pynchon.