Zoyd eyeballed himself in the mirror behind the bar, gave his hair a shake, turned, poised, then screaming ran empty-minded at the window and went crashing through. He knew the instant he hit that something was funny. There was hardly any impact, and it all felt and sounded different, no spring or resonance, no volume, only a sort of fine, dulled splintering … On the Tube, Zoyd came blasting out the window, along with the dubbed-in-sounds now of real glass breaking.
How to Cite:
-Pope, C., (1991) “Systemic Transgression and Cultural Rewriting in Pynchon's Fiction”, Pynchon Notes , p.77-90. doi: https://doi.org/10.16995/pn.259