Futility of V. (Situational Irony / Dramatic Irony)
V., in many ways, structures itself like a mystery novel—objects recur like clues, characters return in unexpected contexts, narratives are reconstructed through memories, and, of course, there is a central investigation: the unknown identity of V. And yet, Pynchon repeatedly undermines the legitimacy of Stencil’s investigation: Stencil “considerably change[s]” facts to fit his narrative (p. 228); he lacks crucial knowledge, not knowing “what sex V. might be, nor even what genus and species” (p. 226). Pynchon incorporates so many potential V.’s—a woman, a rat, a country, a painting, a dream—that its significance diffuses into the abstract. The form of the novel encourages the reader to solve the puzzle of V.’s significance—to create order out of Pynchon’s many clues. At the same time, Pynchon’s satirization of Stencil indicates a certain futility in his investigation—that there is no final answer. This tension creates the central irony of the novel: finding meaning in a lack of meaning.
Anti-Climax (Situational Irony)
Over the course of the novel, Pynchon prepares the reader for a climactic resolution to Herbert Stencil’s investigation, when Stencil arrives in Valletta, Malta, the place of his father’s death.
At the end of Chapter 11, Stencil considers the implications of a trip to Malta: “He could go to Malta and possibly end it. He had stayed off Malta. He was afraid of ending it; but, damn it all, staying here would end it too. Funking out; finding V.; he didn't know which he was most afraid of, V. or sleep. Or whether they were two versions of the same thing. Was there nothing for it but Valletta?” (p. 346). The magnitude of Malta is reinforced in Chapter 13: Stencil admits he is “scared to death of Malta” (p. 381), and he later tells Benny Profane, “Young Stencil has been in all her cities, chased her down till faulty memories or vanished buildings defeated him. All her cities but Valletta” (p. 386). By the time Stencil finally arrives in Malta, the reader is primed for a grand conclusion.
And yet, no such conclusion arrives: Stencil merely reaches dead ends. His main source of information, Fausto Maijstral, lacks the memory to help Stencil, and all other leads are fruitless. Faced with failure, Herbert Stencil suddenly leaves the scene: in a note, he tells Profane that he has left for Stockholm, where he purports to have a new lead on V. This is the last the reader hears of Stencil. His investigation reaches no “ending” in Malta; and Valletta is not the last remaining city, as promised. Ironically, Stencil refuses any conclusion to his investigation.
Ironic Narrative Voice (Dramatic Irony)
Pynchon’s narrative voice is regularly ironic, and self-referential. He writes historical accounts which we know to be inaccurate: for example, Chapter 9, Mondaugen’s story includes a fourth-wall break in which Eigenvalue questions the plausibility of the account. He shamelessly fabricates “coincidences,” non-realist motifs: for example, he names two minor characters “Flip” and “Flop,” mirroring McClintic Sphere’s flip/flop philosophy; likewise, characters break into song that incorporate vocabulary previously used by the narrator.
A clear example of Pynchon’s ironic tone, and how he uses irony to emphasize certain themes, is present in Chapter 9’s description of the Herero Genocide in South Africa, and the war’s horrific death toll: “Allowing for natural causes during those unnatural years, von Trotha, who stayed for only one of them, is reckoned to have done away with about 60,000 people. This is only 1 percent of six million, but still pretty good” (p. 245). Here, the voice’s jarring indifference—or rather, mild joy—in the face of cruelty serves to heighten the reader’s discomfort, and emphasize the novel’s larger theme of humans being treated as objects.
Benny Profane as Protagonist (Situational Irony)
Benny Profane—a drifting, washed up, self-proclaimed schlemihl, who resigns himself to whim—is the de facto hero of Pynchon’s V. Over the course of the novel, in a subversion of expectations, it is made increasingly clear that Profane actually wants to be a fool—that he chooses to act as though he has no agency, which, if you think about it, in a sense proves his agency. “A schlemihl is a schlemihl” (p. 147), Profane says, before abandoning a job interview, resigning himself to unemployment even though he later proves himself perfectly capable of earning employment. “All right, you know I am a schlemihl,” (p. 369) he tells Rachel in Chapter 13, which has the telling subtitle, “chapter thirteen / In which the yo-yo string / is revealed as / a state of mind” (p. 377). Rachel responds, “You're not a schlemihl. You're nobody special. Everybody is some kind of a schlemihl. Only come out of that scungille shell and you'd see” (p. 384). He pretends all the same, and so remains: a schlemihl—whether it is a safety blanket, or a commitment to his own principles, is for the reader to decide.
