A psychedelic sheen

Doc Sportello, private investigator, takes his job seriously. He just so happens to take dope, Kool cigarettes, music, gangster movies, and the occasional acid trip just as seriously. Living near the coast in sunny southern California, Doc is well-immersed in the free love + good music culture. But then his recent ex requires his services: she's in love with a ruthless land developer named Mickey Wolfmann, whose life might be in jeopardy. Doc checks it out, only to wind up at the wrong place at the wrong time - at Mickey's apparent assassination attempt. The cop who catches him, the larger-than-life charismatic Bigfoot, hints that there's far more going on than Doc could ever comprehend. The numerous leads he follows - Mickey's ex-showgirl wife, a sax player faking his death, a sexually devious dentist, an up-and-coming rock 'n' roll group that inhabit a trip-tastic mansion - only land him in more trouble. And wherever he goes, there are clues about The Golden Fang, a secret organization that may be wielding control over more than just real estate deals. Of course, it might end up that Doc's just being paranoid.

Something I tend to forget about, or maybe push off to the side when I'm reading, is the power of atmosphere and setting. In many ways - most of them superficial - the setting of 1969 Los Angeles informs the feeling of the story. Doc is a man of his time, and so are the people he deals with to an extent. In pointing out the sleazy gloss of the fading 60's, the garish fashions, the big cars, and of course the drug-fueled personalities, Thomas Pynchon asks us to look at the story of Vice through this viewpoint. I think this is the domineering factor, the one that will either excite a reader or test them. 

I found the actual plot to be a huge mess. There is a huge cast of supporting characters, some of whom we only see once and a few - Mickey Wolfmann, for a glaring example - who we never see at all. It just exists so that Pynchon can work with a few motifs and themes, which to his credit are organic to the story. Doc is accused time and time again of being paranoid, when of course we know that he's really onto something (even though we might not care so much when he finally gets there). Going deeper, Doc's sense of duty and righteousness is called out by some characters, like his ex-girlfriend and Bigfoot. Speaking of whom, the relationship between them is where the reluctant heart of the story lies, as they both delve recreationally into one another's motives. Their differences in "rank" also mirror the haves vs. have-nots theme that the book keeps circling back to, which cleverly if lightly plays a part in the overall mystery. Unfortunately, there's not much closure on their relationship.

If you're looking for a good detective story, quite honestly I could point you to some Baby-sitters Club mystery books that have a more engaging whodunit. But if you want a book with a sense of fun, that boasts spastic yet completely understandable dialogue and an unrepentant skewing of late 60's culture, you'll enjoy Inherent Vice. It's crazy and good, but not crazy-good. 

Rating: 4 John Garfield on-screen deaths out of 5.