The Crying of Lot 49

I liked it very much and yet I found it oddly unsatisfying. I haven't the time to create the review I would like (and the elderly cat who is sleeping in my arms makes typing difficult), so I will confine myself to a few notes.
1. I am amazed at how contemporary the 1965 world sounds to me. I was very young the year the book was published, and that was a long time ago, but the descriptions do not have the “long ago, far away” feel I would have expected. Yes, there were a few jarring notes (Oedipa today would never say “fag,” for example), but for the most part it felt quite modern to me.
2. I become impatient with what seems like verbal cuteness for its own sake. Weirdness that makes sense to the author but doesn't make sense to me, is just affected. I write that way all the time, and I need to stop. Thanks, Mr. Pynchon, for that reminder.
3. When he is not being excessively fey and preciously clever, his use of words is remarkable and sometimes beautiful. This book was, on most pages, a pleasure to read.