Stirring it all in a beaker, he put the plate in a developing tray and poured the mixture over it.
* * * * * * * * * *
If I ever write a novel that involves a scene that relies heavily on science, I'm not going to research how it's done at all. I'm just going to write, "Then the scientist mixed the mumblemumble up with the hydrogen . . . other stuff . . . and poured it in the thing that made it work." If my editor gets upset, I'll just point him to this scene and be all, "It was good enough for Pynchon!" Then I'll immediately run out of the room so I don't have to hear his logical and rational reasons for how Pynchon made his scene work by having the viewpoint be from a person who doesn't understand what he's watching so it shouldn't all make sense. But then I'll scream from down the hall as I wait for my escape elevator, "WELL MY SCENE IS FROM MY POINT OF VIEW AND I DON'T KNOW SHIT! CHECKMATE, BITCH!"
Um, I think this scene is more stuff about the alchemy of writing! Pynchon pointing out that writing is like photography. You think of a scene and do some mumbo-jumbo science and/or magic to develop that scene into the image you want the reader to imagine in their head. Then the reader either pictures that scene or has to re-read the scene because they suddenly realize they were just picturing boobies in their head for the last half a page. Don't you hate when you do that? Man, sometimes I even do that while looking at boobies in Playboy! Then I'm all, "Man! Now I have to flip back and re-look at all those boobies because I was picturing so many other boobies!"
Man, now I have a craving for boobies.
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