The Crying of Lot 49

I won't lie, I was pretty meh about most of this book until I got near the end and then it finally clicked. How does one even describe this book to someone? Part mystery, drama, sexual revolution, comedy satire? Like a hipper version of Vonnegut, Pynchon really lets wit and absurdity fly. There were times I laughed out loud. There were times I was confused. There were times I wanted the story to wrap up. There were times I wanted the story to never end. At a time where I'm wondering to myself, “How the heck do people get so wrapped up in conspiracy theories and why do they constantly change their own narrative to push further down the rabbit hole?” all I can say is, hey, wouldn't we all love a 60s garage rock band to follow us around?