Holy heck what a slog. It's 90% incomprehensible 1940s pop culture references, nonsense poetry, and word salad. Then, BLAM, the rest is brilliantly hilarious and fantastically written. (Extremely graphic depiction of coprophilia aside.)

It seems like every time I'm about to put the book down for good, Pynchon throws me a bone and massively entertains. I'm 40% of the way through, and I've almost given up a half dozen times. I am at least starting to maybe glean a little bit of the plot out of the jumble. A little bit. I really hope it becomes a little more clear at some point because it's a little discouraging.

Has anyone here made it through? Worth it? Did you understand what was going on?

What a book!