Meander

Hey nice people — you made it! And with that, welcome to Week 1, in which we launch this hardy crew out onto the trail. Just a reminder that we are slow-cooking this time around. You may have read the book before or you may be tempted to jump ahead, but humor me, won’t you? Let’s keep our focus on these weekly 30-page sprints and savor the Pynchon together.

I’m reading the Harper Perennial (HP) paperback, but there are plenty of other editions — for anyone taking another path, I’ll do my best to include a quote you can use to hang your hat on, whatever medium or printing you choose.

For those new to Pynchon I’ll share the one tip I’ve figured out with my modest experience — just to enjoy the sentences. Sometimes I get a little lost I’ll admit. But pretty much every page has a sentence to underline and delight in. And so we turn the pages, gem to shimmery gem.

So remind me one more time, how’s this thing work?

We’ll be reading T C of L 49 over the next 5 weeks — each week I’ll post the next week’s target. Read along, comment on each thread by week’s end, make it to the finish line, and you qualify for some unique digital thing I’ll figure out on the other side….

As always, I believe in you and your ability to read a book in thinly-sliced increments and post on a blog. I don’t know about everyone — but you? You’re a sure bet to make it to the end!

This week: Enjoy chapters 1 and 2, adding your comment (pithy or otherwise) here, pausing for some water and perhaps a slice of orange at the bottom of HP 30, where After a while, she said “I will.” And she did.

Upward and forward!

-Cecil

Welcome back to you, and to me too!

That’s right, friends — after a 5 year hiatus, on Sunday October 5 Meander shenanigans start up again, this time with a mini-Meander™ of Pynchon’s micro-masterpiece, The Crying of Lot 49.

We’ll be doing some slow cooking this time out — 30 pages a week, 5 weeks for the journey. Plenty of time to savor the goodness. Also, there’s a lot going on, right? But who couldn’t use a distraction in a moment like this?

If you’ve Meandered before, the only other difference is that I’m not planning a physical prize (alas!), but there still will be winners (yay!), and I’ll figure out something digital I can send your way to celebrate your glory (woohoo!).

If you’re planning on diving in, drop us a note in the comments to let us know. And I’ll see you back here in a couple of weeks. (early adopters — I might need to approve your comment as we kick off jfyi…)

Optional primer for new folks

21 years ago (!) a bunch of started reading challenging books together and commenting online, and we found joy in the endeavor. At first we called these “Deathmarches” and our first time out was ye olde Gravity’s Rainbow Deathmarch. During Covid-times we morphed these from Deathmarches to the kinder gentler Meanders, starting with the eerily appropriate for the time White Noise Meander.

How this works: Starting October 5, I’ll send out a note to folks on the path, and post a post here on Cecil.

You’ll have a week to read about 30 pages and to drop a comment when you’re done. Comments range from “I’m behind!” to erudite and entertaining observations on favorite passages, cross-cultural currents and more.

All comments are equally wonderful in the eyes of the great Meanderer in the sky. Finish and comment each week and you win! Oh, and don’t sweat it if you’ve never read this before or it’s your first time through — all wanderers welcome….

What happens next? Drop a comment on the thread to let us know if you are going to dive in. And get yourself a copy of the book and hide it somewhere so you aren’t tempted until we flip that first page a few Sundays hence. Any questions, just leave a note…

Thanks all for the company and the community. You are a light.

-Cecil le V.

What just happened:
Some sections are easier to relate to than others. And then there was this week’s parsha. Two years ago there wouldn’t have been much to work with here. This year it read like a practical and super relevant how-to guide for people learning to live together, when living together means living with disease.

Read more

What just happened:
This was a big one — the laws of kashrut (aka how to be kosher), including surprising news about bunnies and bats!

Of possible note:

• The gestures, the rituals, the blood, the burning — I had never thought of it this way before, but today it really struck me how much these directions felt like spells and incantations, a pinch of this and a dash of that… And of course, follow them to the T if you want to avoid the fate of Nadab and Abihu. (Spoiler: you want to avoid the fate of Nadab and Abihu.)
• For a book filled with people who live in gray moral spaces, who are more human than paragons, the Torah sometimes draws awfully sharp lines. There’s the sacred and the profane. There are animals you can eat, and animals that are abominations. There aren’t many animals for example, that I wouldn’t recommend you eat, I’m mean they’re kind of gamey, but suit yourself.
• Speaking of kind of gamey, who knew bunnies aren’t kosher? Clearly not my beloved Aunt Ruth. Likewise, who knew that bats were birds? Total curveball, that.
• Curveballs aside, a wise fellow reader pointed out to me that all these rules, these details, create a life infused with reminders of the sacred. Which made me wonder what I might do to add a little more sacred to my day to day.

What just happened:
Leviticus opens with several laws of sacrifice and the details therein which are, let’s be honest, alarming for anyone who either likes pigeons or believes blood should be dashed on the wall rarely if at all.

And I thought to myself, Leviticus, your reputation precedes you. Because that’s pretty much what I know of this third book — that it’s a set of rules, rules and more rules, associated with the Levites.

For the first few pages of this section, I thought there wasn’t much in the way of a picture idea that I could glean. The pigeon thing threw me. And it was interesting to learn we aren’t supposed to eat fat. (Clearly no one told my grandma Lilly that because: schmaltz.)

But I didn’t see how I could use the above in my day to day. Then, pulling back, I did in fact glean a few things that perhaps I was taking for granted on first skim.

Of note:

• First off, there’s the embedded message that everyone sins — priests, nations, individuals — we all sin.
• Happily, there is also a path to forgiveness. It’s possible to make up for our sins. To take action — to do something to right our wrongs. The key might be acknowledging the mistake, and marking that acknowledgement with care and an odor that God finds pleasing. Hard to argue with that.
• And it turns out, ignorance doesn’t get you off the hook. If you later realize you did wrong, you still need to make amends.

These are ideas that feel pretty widely accepted today. Sin is universal. But with conscious thought and effort we can move forward.

It’s easy to align these ideas with confession, for example.

I wonder though if they were that widely accepted at the time. As a novel notion, they would be revolutionary.

What just happened:
The tabernacle is built and the Lord makes an appearance, as we finish Exodus. What’s a tabernacle, you ask? Wikipedia defines it thusly:

According to the Hebrew Bible, the Tabernacle, also known as the Tent of the Congregation, was the portable earthly dwelling place of Yahweh used by the Israelites from the Exodus until the conquest of Canaan.

And Wikimedia Commons offers this lovely image from the Phillip Medhurst Collection of Bible illustrations:

Of note:

• My co-readers had a wonderful reflection about this being the first great work of former slaves who had helped build Egypt. Now they build for themselves.
• Meanwhile, I ruminated on the (let’s be honest) bizarre amount of detail this week’s portion was serving up. I’m just saying, you have to be confident that you have your audience locked in if you’re going to dive this deep. Melville did it. Pynchon does it repeatedly. Nice to see the Torah was written by confident folks, with no fear that they would lose their crowd in details of acacia wood, gold, copper, crimson yarns, linen, dolphin skins, lapis lazuli, spices, oil, flesh hooks, goat’s hair, cups shaped like almond-blossoms, and the extraordinary tabernacling skills of Bezalel, son of Uri son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah.
• Adversity creates community. As can a shared past. Building something massive and mighty also bonds people with a sense of a common purpose, the common good, an appreciation for the moment and a stake in the future.
• Looking at the image above, it’s clear that the tabernacle is more than an extravagant tent or gold-covered arc. It’s a mobile town. A place you can carry with you. No surprise that it would be so precious to this wandering people in search of a home.

In brief:

The gang brings Jethro up to speed, and God makes a memorable appearance.

A couple of thoughts:

• Where much of Exodus thus far has hit me with a political vibe, this one seemed to be full of great work advice. For example, Jethro basically tells Moses “you really have to learn to delegate — everyone will be happier if you do.” Ancient advice that people have been ignoring for a few thousand years. Likewise, it had never hit me before today how interesting it is that “take a day off” is one of the top 10 most important things you can do. Don’t murder, don’t steal. And take a chill day, because God did.
• I always figured don’t lie was a commandment. But that’s not quite what it says. “Don’t bear false witness against your neighbor,” we’re told. Which feels to me much more like a (super important) requirement for having-neighbors-and-not-killing-each-other (aka living with other humans) than it does an abstract virtue. Verily, this is the Good and Practical Book.

If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Yitro (Exodus 18.1 – 20.23)

Next up: Mishpatim (Exodus 21.1 – 24.18)
-Cecil

In brief:
Va-Yiggash starts out just as Joseph has demanded Benjamin be left behind and their father brought to Egypt, all on account of a super important stolen-but-not-really-stolen goblet that we’ll never hear about again. Trickery!

After some sobbing and neck kissing, all is well in the family, and a score of he and she-assess are loaded with Egyptian goodies. Joseph’s brothers and the donkeys are then sent forth to bring Jacob and his extended family back to Egypt.

Joseph then introduces serfdom to the people of Egypt. Did you see that one coming, gentle reader? I will admit, I did not.

The people’s land and livestock are taken in exchange for food. They then get land rights back, but 20% of what they grow will henceforth go to the Pharaoh. There are interpretations that explain why this was a noble plan — that the 20% would help fend against future famine and such. Even so, my gut reaction was: yikes.

A couple of thoughts:

• “My son Joseph is still alive! I must go and see him before I die,” says Jacob. And God comforts Jacob that “Joseph’s hands shall close your eyes” — a moment that reflect a feeling that’s floated through the text a few times already that death itself is not a thing to fear. But a good death is something to aspire to. Abraham buried by Ishael and Isaac. Jacob, promised that he will be with Joseph at the end. All echoing the many moments that tie our purpose here, in this relay race we run, to the hand off — to how we leave things for and with the generation that follows.
• This section also includes a wonderfully pure moment of forgiveness. Revealing himself to Judah, Joseph comforts his brother: “Do not be distressed or reproach yourself because you sold me hither,” God sent Joseph to Egypt so he could save his family, Joseph explains. How then could he condemn his brothers for what they did along the way? It’s all part of God’s plan. Which left me thinking of this simple truth — gratitude for where you are is often the key to accepting whatever brought you there.

If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Va-Yiggash (Gen 44.18 – 47.27)
Next up: Va-Yeḥi (Gen 47.27 – 50.26)
-Cecil

In brief:
Joseph gets a haircut, some new clothes, some more new clothes, a wife, two kids, and nigh-Pharaoh-like power over the kingdom. So all in all, a pretty good bounce back for this promising young man.

Years of abundance pass. And years of famine begin, all as foretold by Joseph, who, like a well-coiffed ant from Aesop’s fables, frugals Egypt through these challenging times.

His brothers visit in search of food. They don’t recognize Joseph, though he recognizes them. And to no careful reader’s surprise, trickery ensues.

A couple of thoughts:

• I loved the names of Joseph’s children: Manasseh, meaning: “God has made me forget completely my hardship and my parental home.” And Efraim, meaning: “God has made me fertile in the land of my affliction.” Both names of gratitude and resilience. Of moving forward.
• I also still can’t believe they left poor Simeon behind and then sort dawdle around, debating whether or not to go back. (And if you think I’m being unkind here, don’t listen to me, listen to Judah who says: “…we could have been there and back twice if we had not dawdled.” And he’s right — that was some serious dawdling!)

If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Mikkets (Gen 41.1 – 44.17)

Next up: Va Yiggash (Gen 44.18 – 47.27)
-Cecil

In brief:
We meet Jacob’s second-youngest-son Joseph, who is beloved by his father, and a bit of a twerp. Speaking of Joseph’s father, despite being renamed by the Lord, which you would think would count for something, so-called “Israel” is actually still called “Jacob.” This naming thing is complicated.

Joseph is sold into slavery. In a side story, Jacob’s son Judah’s daughter-in-law Tamar is twice widowed. Through some exceptionally tricky trickery , she ends up having twins with her father-in-law Judah. And along the way, at least in my translation, she gets called a “cult prostitute” for her troubles. Oh, and we meet her second husband, the infamous Onan — more on him in a moment.

Joseph goes down to Egyptland as a slave, resists temptation in a scene that feels straight out of To Kill a Mockingbird, gets thrown in jail, and delivers some exceptionally good news to the cupbearer, and some less positive news to the baker. (Spoiler: don’t get attached to the baker.)

A couple of thoughts:

• Joseph has some exciting dreams involving all sorts of people bowing to him. Which is great. And then he shares these dreams with everyone. Which is less great. There’s something wonderfully human though about meeting this young obnoxious Joseph and realizing, just like his dad, and just like all of us, he’s on a journey. He’s flawed and, let’s hope, capable of improving over time. As a young ‘un though, I’m not sure he deserved being thrown in a pit. But I’m not not sure either.
• I was fairly stoked to run into the infamous Onan, namesake for the sin of self-pleasure (aka “Onanism”). Turns out, and stay with me on this: Onan’s brother Er died, Onan is told to marry Er’s widow Tamar, and Onan’s sin is that because he wouldn’t get legal credit for any kid they might co-procreate, he chose instead to “let [his seed] go to waste, whenever [they] joined.” OK, so first off, I’m pretty sure that’s not masturbation. And isn’t Onan’s sin really just being a total jerk? So there it is, if someone’s a total jerk, feel free to call them an Onanist and tell them the Lord doesn’t approve. And if they question you, just say: “Genesis 38:10, mic drop.” The mic drop part is really important. If you don’t do that part, you are an Onanist.

If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Va-Yashev (Gen 37.1 – 40.23)
Next up: Mikkets (Gen 41.1 – 44.17)
-Cecil