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 "You bring a note from your parents, kid?"

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This must be flirting because according to nobody giving a thought to Miles and Lindsay wandering around the Fair unaccompanied, nobody in 1893 would question a young person wandering around by themselves. Unless that nobody were a cop and they saw a great chance at roughing up a kid and hauling them into jail for truancy or loitering or any other trumped up charge you can use as an excuse to bully some citizen you laughed about when you took your oath to "protect" them.

This is when the scene in reception ends. The question is left hanging because it wasn't actually meant to be answered. But it was also asked because the reader has been wondering for twenty-five pages now (and, in my case, nearly three months! I'm a slow reader!) where the parents of all of these children are (except for Chick's dad. We know all about that jerk). This is Pychon playing with us, especially after the last sentence in which he spoke of "not being unmischievous." We all want to see that note!

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 Her smile was not unmischievous.

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Did Pynchon use double negatives because he didn't want to imply that her smile was mischievous; it's just that it wasn't not that? This construction hints that it could have been but you can't really be sure? Or is this construction simply Pynchon being not unmischievous?

I suppose we're supposed to realize she's not being purposefully rude; she's simply having some fun with this kid. Perhaps flirting? I would be more confident if I knew how people flirted in 1893 but I don't even know how they flirt in 2021.

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 "Nate!" she screamed, causing Randolph to jump.

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Mr. Privett's given name is Nate which means "God has given," from the Hebrew. This could be taken as the assignment he'll be giving to Randolph and the Chums of Chance comes straight from God. Which suggests, once again, that Randolph is some kind of angel or friendly ghost.

Still getting plenty of this vibe from Nate Privett's "receptionist."

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 "I was supposed to see Mr. Privett?"

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The meaning of the surname "Privett" is derived from the Middle English word "prou" with the addition of a diminutive suffix. "Prou" meant brave. So Mister Privett is a brave little man. Unless his name is ironic and then he's a cowardly big man. Unless his name is only half-ironic and then he's either a small coward or a brave giant.

Privett could also suggest privy as in "sharing of knowledge" or it could mean "an outside toilet." As a name of a detective, I'm partial to either of these being descriptors of this new character.

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 "Yeah, and maybe this ain't the Epworth League."

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See? Laura the Receptionist from Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist.

"Epworth League"
Basically the YMCA of the 1890s. So Laura the Receptionist is basically saying, "This isn't a place for young people to simply saunter in and expect to be taken seriously. We ain't got no Methodist basketball league here."

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 "The door was open—"

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This is the kind of response saved for being suddenly confronted by a hostile gatekeeper of any business you thought you had some kind of social contract to access.

"Hey! Get the fuck out of here, you miscreant!"
"Uh, the door was open?"

"Whoa whoa whoa! Who the fuck let you in here?!"
"But the door was open!"

"Isn't it past your bedtime, sonny?"
"The door was open em dash"

What that means, subtextually, is that Randolph expects the world to work in a systematic and just way. He wasn't expecting the ageist abuse heaped upon him for simply entering a place of business.

Digression: I remember when my twelve year old nephew kept yelling, "Shut the front door!", while we were playing some stupid game. We were at my Aunt's house for some holiday and the front door had been left open. I kept wondering why he wanted it shut and why nobody was listening to him. I finally said, "If you want the door shut, get up and shut it yourself!" He didn't take me to task for being out of touch with the kid's lingo because, I think, he just thought I was telling him to shut the fuck up right back.

That was also the day I taught him how to swear without swearing by yelling, "Flush it!" His grandmother put the kibosh on that almost immediately.

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 "It's after bedtime, sonny."

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This typewriter (not the machine but the woman manning the machine. I mean womanning the machine) reminds me of Laura the Receptionist from Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist. She was voiced by Laura Silverman and is one of my all time top favorite characters of any show ever.

At the Starbucks around the corner from my place worked a barista whom I called Laura Silverman because she looked like Laura Silverman. There was also young George Harrison and 70s George Harrison and Mrs. Beret and the Sugar Pusher and this one guy whom I totally fell in love with because he would call me "Brother" whenever he saw me and I didn't realize how cool it is to be called "Brother" until then. Eventually I actively tried to learn the names of the baristas because I thought that was probably more respectful than making up nicknames based on the way they looked or acted. At least I never made up unflattering nicknames! They were always things I found charming about them or based on what celebrity they most resembled.

It actually got pretty boring after that because then I was always just all, "Hey Dardan!" and "Good morning, Ali!" and "How've you been, Jason?!" and "You look fantastic, Heather!" and "Any free cookies, Sugar Pusher?!"

"sonny"
This section is because I figured I should say something about the text. The first thing that struck me was how this was a "young lady" and yet she still referred to Randolph as "sonny" and referenced "bedtime," a thing which only kids have to deal with. So Randolph looks much younger than I would have suspected, being that he's the captain of the ship and, I'm assuming, the oldest. That must mean Darby must look like a toddler! But then again, I'd expect Randolph to have the face of an angel since he's probably an angel and you only say people have the face of an angel if they look like a flying baby.

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 A young lady typewriter who managed to act prim and bold at the same time glanced up from her florally-appliquéd machine.

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"act prim and bold at the same time"
At first, I was confused because I felt like acting prim was nearly identical to acting bold. Don't you have to be bold to tut-tut every cool thing other people engage in? But then I thought, "Maybe I'm using the wrong definitions of the words!" So Pynchon probably means "bold" as in "having a strong or vivid appearance." In other words, this young lady looks both "stiffly formal and respectable" and "vividly bold or vivacious." She's putting off a bit of office and a bit of weekend fun. She probably looks a lot like Joan from Mad Men. Now there was a prim and bold lady!

"florally-appliquéd machine"
People put cute little stickers on their work supplies back in 1893 too? I mean, I'm not surprised! It's weird how we always tend to think of the members of other generations as somehow a different species entirely. Of course people in 1893 would value cute things to liven up their work environment and make it feel more like their own space! Especially somebody who was both prim and bold (but a little more bold than prim, obviously).

These are some of the bold and unprim stickers I would slap on my typewriter. Thanks to Oglaf.