Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 11: Lines 18-19 (123-124)

 His broodful reflections were interrupted by Darby, running over to tug at the sleeve of his blazer—"Professor, Professor! Lindsay has just now made a defamatory remark about Miles's mother, yet he's forever after me about using 'slang,' and is that fair, I ask you?"

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If my numbering system for every line hasn't been messed up by now, it certainly has after this line. If I were to remove the "Professor, Professor!" line from this sentence, I'd call it one sentence. But with that bit breaking up the main sentence split into two parts by an em dash, it almost feels like three sentences. But I've resisted that temptation! This is one sentence with another, brief sentence used as an interjection in the middle. But since this line has made me question my numbering system, I shall forthwith just have faith in my system and resist discussing it every time there's a question of how many lines are contained within the odd punctuation of em dashes and long quotations. The numbering system is either wrong or right and I'm just going to stick with whatever I decide. That's the end of that!

As for the actions within these lines, Darby could not have made a better entrance into this chaotic situation. It's especially nice to have the action previously blurred out of focus by Randolph's musings about whose fault this situation was so that we, as the readers, also miss Lindsay's defamatory remark. We have to trust Darby's perception of the goings on at hand. Granted, I shall be forever curious as to what Lindsay may have said.

Again, the ship is crashing to the ground and everybody seems overly concerned about something other than that. Sort of like how we deal with climate change, amirite?!

Darby tugging on Randolph's blazer helped remind me that these kids were all wearing red and white striped blazers and blue short pants. Ugh. I can hardly imagine looking at them!

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 11: Line 17 (122)

 As the vital gas continued to stream in unsettling shriek from the valve overhead, and the airship to plunge ever more rapidly Earthward, Randolph, gazing at the feckless struggling of his crew, understood too well that the responsibility for the disaster nearly upon them was, as always, none but his own, this time for having delegated duties to those unskilled in them. . . .

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This is meant to suggest God blaming himself as He watched Lucifer and the other angels plummeting from Heaven, screaming across the sky, so to speak, after their "feckless" struggle with the other hosts of Heaven. Isn't it?

Or, since Randolph may represent some kind of fallen angel, this is Lucifer blaming himself for all of the angels who sided with him as they were expelled from Heaven to plunge Earthward.

It's also possible that this is just Randolph being kind of a dick. Would you rather be yelled at by your captain and told to get it together or would you rather your captain shoulder the blame with the understanding that you're not up to the job he assigned you? I can see him being upset with himself for hiring on Chick who was still learning the ropes, or maybe having been soft on Miles even when he knew Miles wasn't dexterous enough for some of these jobs but doubting Lindsay?! That kid's a raging zealot for trying to keep things in order!

Sure, I've been complaining about his ability to do his job since he first hung Darby over the side of the ship. But I thought Randolph respected that insane side of him.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 11: Line 16 (121)

 Chick Counterfly rose indolently and approached the lurching pair with some caution, unsure of which part of Miles to take hold of, let it but increase his agitation.

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This scene has been going on for so many lines that it must have greater subtext than just a slapstick break from the seriousness of the boy's adventure story line! Maybe the entire scene is a metaphor for just how difficult it is to manage an airship with Miles as the airship trying to be kept in control? So up until now, it's been smooth sailing and everything seems easy in the life of these boys. But now we see just how dangerous and difficult it is! Trying to keep an airship from falling out of the sky is like trying to wrangle a ticklish fat kid out of a knotted bunch of hemp rope as you're being blasted in the face by escaping gusts of hydrogen gas! It's sort of both literal and figurative!

Plus Chick is lazy just like we all expected was the case. Or knew because we'd been told that multiple times by now. It's hard to remember when you spend a full month reading just the first 120 lines of a book. Imagine if I had done this with Gravity's Rainbow on my second reading? I'd probably quit after having to analyze that moment Brigadier Pudding sucks the turd out of Katje's butthole.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 11: Line 15 (120)

 "Here, Counterfly," the second-in-command snapped at Chick, who, jeeringly amused, had been lounging against a gear locker, "do rouse yourself for a moment and bear a hand with Blundell," that awkward fellow, disposed to ticklishness, meanwhile having begun to scream and thrash about in his efforts to escape Lindsay's grasp.

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At this point, I have to suspect that the "plummeting airship" is merely "an airship that's in for a slightly rougher than normal landing," no matter how panicked Randolph St. Cosmo seemed. Lindsay began by announcing it rather calmly and expectantly, as if he'd been waiting for this particular Miles Blundell screw up. Miles seemed rather nonplussed by his mistake. And here, Chick is just hanging out off to the side trying to come up with a good insult that would really take the piss out of poor Miles.

This moment feels like maybe Lindsay is just beginning to see that things could get quite out of hand and it's partially his fault for letting Miles slacking nature come to this point.

Also, it's just more slapstick as the poor little fat kid struggles and screams in fits of ticklish hysterics while Lindsay is trying to get the valve closed and the cool kid smokes a blunt off to the side while chuckling at their misfortune.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 11: Line 14 (119)

 With an inadvertent yet innocuous oath, Lindsay had sprung to the side of young Blundell, grasping him about his ample waist, in an attempt to lift him, in hopes that this would relieve the tautness in the pull-rope and allow the valve to close.

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It may have taken 119 lines but I finally feel vindicated by the phrase "ample waist." I knew Miles Blundell was a fat little fucker. He might as well be me in Junior High! If at some point he seems nonplussed by some other kid making fun of him for nonchalantly picking his nose in public, I'm going to sue Thomas Pynchon for likeness rights.

The problem with satire is that if it's not incredibly hyperbolic and facetious (like eating babies to solve a famine), it winds up feeling like just another example of the cultural terribleness of which it's purporting to make fun. And there's nothing hyperbolic about Miles Blundell being the clumsy fat kid to make it great satiric writing against the clumsy fat person trope in entertainment (I wanted to say "modern entertainment" but I'm not familiar enough with writing across all history. I'm sure there was a clumsy fat guy aboard the Argo or farting up a storm inside the Trojan Horse. And wasn't Level 3 of Dante's Inferno just a bunch of fat people tripping over devil tails and causing Rube Goldberg-like accidents that lasted eons?). In which case, I just have to believe that Pynchon thinks fat people are clumsy Antichrists.

At least Pynchon resists having Blundell stuffing his face with some kind of cream pie every scene. Although that would make the satire more apparent! And also it could result in a really wacky pie throwing fracas on the Inconvenience!

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 11: Line 13 (118)

 "Say, it just got tangled up, Professor," declared Miles, plucking ineffectually at the coils of hemp, which only grew more snarled as his efforts continued.

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Is Miles the slapstick comedy relief or is he the Antichrist? I suppose he could be both and wouldn't that be an entertaining way for the world to end. Robert Frost didn't give us that choice. What good is his poetry if he can't throw in the possible death of the world by comic apocalypse?

I must say, I like Miles even more now, seeing as his attitude is laid back and unconcerned even when the ship is practically crashing to the ground. He begins with "Say" as if he just bumped into a casual acquaintance on the street and means to talk about the weather a bit. He uses the passive voice about the hemp rope, as if he isn't the one who screwed the pooch. Although now that I get to the part where he's "plucking ineffectually," I'm starting to see Miles as severely depressed and not just chill.

But we probably still have miles to go before he weeps.