Reading GR I got a similar sense of rhapsodic maximalism as I did from Ulysses, in terms of how the author has built up so sprawling and varied an acumen of technical knowledge, that they can just drift through their own created world as a multiformal polyglot of sorts, where the reader gets the sense that this generation of technical and atmospheric detail can go on forever. Almost like a fractal, in the sense of there being an infinite realm of detail to explore, but without the self-similarity.

Although I do think Pynchon, just being situated later in history (or later in the metanarrative) and having more to draw from, was deeper down the rabbithole than Joyce - which makes sense, when you consider Joyce in terms of modern literature and Pynchon in terms of postmodern. Ulysses had a sense, to me at least, of grappling with a cosmological orthodoxy, namely Catholicism, whereas GR seemed like such a ground was nowhere to be found, as if the whole thing lacked a sort of center of gravity and could instead propel itself freely in any direction.