The arc of Pynchon's historical fictions

Spoilers Abound

I’d like to read Pynchon’s epic historical novels as an upwards arc towards grace, reflecting the author’s own journey. Over the course of his life Thomas Pynchon wrote three sprawling historical fictions that form an unofficial trilogy. The earliest time period covered is the late 18th century in Mason & Dixon (M&D), followed by the pre-WWI Against the Day (AtD), and finally the post-WWII Gravity’s Rainbow (GR).

I first read the trilogy in the order Pynchon wrote them as opposed to chronological: Pynchon started with the overwhelming GR, then the relatively poignant M&D, and wrapped with AtD. And, looking back on the three, I’d argue that despite the temporal juxtaposition, leading with GR provides the most uplifting view of Pynchon’s oeuvre.

Pynchon’s first historical fiction, GR (1973), opens with the timeless & terrible A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now. Continuing in theme, GR was a tough read that aimed square for the existentials with its feverish prophecy of inevitable suicide-by-rocket. It left me looking for some sort of answer, and I wanted to know whether the reclusive Pynchon found resolution in his own life.

Pynchon went on to publish M&D (1997) almost twenty-five years after GR, and M&D is where Pynchon as a husband, father, and friend breaks through the apocalyptic eschatology. In the book, Charles Mason goes past the edges of science, with poignantly elegiac passages describing the search for his dead wife. The book’s frame narrative of a warm family Christmas eve gives the future hope.

Pynchon published AtD (2006) at seventy years old. The last to be written, beyond recapitulating the themes of the previous works, AtD ends on a uniquely powerful and uplifting chord. The final line is why my heart places it, rather than GR, as the target of Pynchon’s trajectory:

Soon they will see the pressure-gauge begin to fall. They will feel the turn in the wind. They will put on smoked goggles for the glory of what is coming to part the sky. They fly towards grace.