Stone Junction Book

I think the last time I was this gripped right from the beginning of a book was when I read House of Leaves, and the time before that was probably Infinite Jest. Stone Junction isn't really much like either of those, though, so don't get the wrong idea. House of Leaves is gimmicky and academic, and Infinite Jest is long and fairly difficult. Stone Junction is significantly shorter* and definitely way more accessible. On the title page it calls itself an "alchemical potboiler." Using the word potboiler isn't totally inaccurate, but I think it does the book a disservice; potboiler to me implies almost pulp, a book that barely has to be thought about. But Stone Junction contains plenty to think about, if you're the thinking type. There's Oedipal stuff, ethical quandaries, obsession, betrayal, outlaws (not to be confused with criminals, as distinguished later), and even a heist. And so on. Basically, Daniel Pearse is being trained by the best in all the dodgiest, sketchiest outlaw arts, in order to get some sweet revenge. And also to steal a huge diamond.**

Dodge is a master of aphorism, too, which is a hard thing to be post-Oscar Wilde, post-Maugham, post-Carlin. The thing is, Daniel, the main character, goes through a series of teachers for the first part of the book, who teach him a number of skills that flirt with the supernatural. Mystical is probably an appropriate word. And these teachers dispense knowledge in all sorts of pithy little lines. But the tricky part of having a whole bunch of wise teachers or gurus in your book is that you have to be as smart as all of them. Too often, I see lines that are meant to be philosophically profound, and I end up scoffing at them, because they're either cliché or just kind of...lame. Shantaram is a good example of this. Dodge's aphorisms are spot on, though, which is really cool. Just a couple examples:

"'Outlaws only do wrong when they feel it's right; criminals only feel right when they're doing wrong.'"

"'I can only echo my old friend Ludwig Wittgenstein's sweeping disclaimer that "the world is the case." Alas, dear listeners, we can only drink it by the glass.'"

If that's not enough to grab the attention, I don't know what is. Maybe the first one's a little tired, and the second's more of a joke. Maybe I'm overestimating how much other people will like that sort of thing. Oh, wait, though, did I mention there's a heist? That's my point about this; that there's something for everyone. I should note that, like House of Leaves, and unlike Infinite Jest, the end of the book doesn't quite live up to the promise of the beginning. But no less a man than Thomas Pynchon disagrees with me on that point, and who are you going to believe? Me or him?

*I think. The strange thing is that my copy has taller, wider pages than a normal book, and also small, close-packed text, so small it's actually sort of hard to read the passages that are in italics (of which there are few, thankfully). And that comes out to about 350 pages. So it's hard to say.

**That's literally all I'm going to say about the plot. Spoilers would likely cripple enjoyment, although I had some slight spoilers thanks to Pynchon's intro, which I skimmed, and I still loved it.