Chapter 1: Section 5: Page 36: Line 5 (587)

 Inconvenience would fit right in, as one more effect whose only purpose was to entertain.

* * * * * * * * * *

This fits with how this book has started, as an easily accessible boy's adventure novel. "Don't worry, readers! This big airship is just a standard entertainment! Just a bit of adventuring fluff! It doesn't represent anything else at all!" Even though it probably does represent something else. Early on, I speculated that the Inconvenience represents the book Against the Day itself. This sentence is pretty good evidence toward that supposition. Here we have a book, Against the Day, whose only purpose is to entertain. But that's the illusion of it. It's actually there to observe the people. And what else does good literature purport to do other than reflect a mirror back on the reader, as if it had been spying on us all along.

* * * * * * * * * *

P.S. the First
Taking another pass at the name of the airship, perhaps it's Pynchon commenting on the need for a plot or an entertainment to make the things he actually wants to discuss palatable to the reading audience. The plot is an inconvenient necessity to express Pynchon's view of the world. Without the veneer of entertainment, few people might be tricked into reading Pynchon's thoughts on quaternions, or the loss of the Frontier, or the effect of technology on people's lives or history or changing times. Without talking dogs and adventuring boys and drug-addled boner poppers and shit-eating generals and vampiric masons and underground post offices, how could Pynchon expose the crimes of those fools always in power, who commit genocide and destroy all that is good in the world for a couple of bucks and the joy of power?

Chapter 1: Section 5: Page 36: Line 2 (584)

 The harsh nonfictional world waited outside the White City's limits, held off for this brief summer, making the entire commemorative season beside Lake Michigan at once dream-like and real.

* * * * * * * * * *

"The harsh nonfictional world"
In plot terms, the "real" world of Pynchon's Against the Day America. In book terms, the actual real world that exists outside Against the Day's limits.

"at once dream-like and real"
The Fair seemed "dream-like and real," a seeming paradox, because it was both a highly manufactured imaginative setting and set outside of reality within its own walls. So it was dream-like in its construction, exhibits, and state-of-the-art technology and architecture. But it was real in that it was a bubble unto itself. The outside world could not intrude so that a person, while within it, knew only the reality of the Fair. Dream-like. And real.

My ultimate goal is for my reality to seem dream-like. There are a handful of moments in my life when I have achieved this reality, if only for the most transient of moments. Perhaps not the most serene but quite close is one I think about fondly: I was sat cross-legged on the living room carpet in the middle of a friend's sister's high school party, tripping pleasantly on LSD, sipping on a can of who-can-even-remember-what-brand beer and just watching the revelry. Nobody disturbed me, seemingly seeing nothing wrong with my position, as if I were an ottoman or an end table. I wouldn't mind still being there. And perhaps I am, in a way.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 29: Line 68 (440)

 Lunch-time arrived, and with it Lindsay's announcement of early liberty.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Lunch-time"
The middle of the day when a person usually takes time for their second meal, between breakfast and dinner. Some people have different schedules and so their "lunch" could take place at any time of the day. But that would not mean that they're having lunch during "lunch-time." Lunch-time would still be about the middle of the day even if they were sleeping or eating a different meal during it. Am I being overly pedantic about something so mundane and obvious? Well, I'd better be or else Pynchon is likely to slip some extra-special subtext right past me. Like maybe how "lunch-time" takes place in the middle of the day and, according to the title of this book, we (or somebody) is against that day. Which means we're now in the middle of the battle and have seemingly achieved liberty early! Hoorah!
    But wait! Early liberty does not mean extended liberty and success! Soon the day will probably burst forth from the clouds in its renewed battle to cozily bamboozle us with its lethargic rays and enticing patches of warmth. We must remain vigilant if we are to win this battle!
    Unless the title doesn't mean a competition with the day and is suggesting that the day actually buttresses us and holds us up, uplifting us so that we have the strength to battle back the darkness.

"early liberty"
"Liberty" is a naval term meaning "allow the recruits to let their hair down and take the sticks out of their butts, maybe spend some time consuming too many beers while not saluting officers and standing however they please." The early version of liberty is like a small treat seen as a way to lift up morale and to also have something to hold over the lowly recruits later.
    And as I mentioned earlier, liberty is freedom. It's something to be fought for although not necessarily in physical battle. The dopiest and most easily manipulated Americans think only the military can fight for freedom and liberty. These jerks go about waving flags and praising every military operation as a means of fighting for their freedom and then just roll over whenever their freedoms are actually impinged upon. Protesting is a form of fighting for freedom but these yahoos constantly fight against protesting because of their narrow view of how freedoms are won. In their minds, people protesting against the draft are selfish American hating bastards while America invading Vietnam is protecting American liberty and freedom. What dumb jerks!

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 35 (140)

 "Like me to break out some of them parachute rigs, Noseworth?" drawled Chick.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chick isn't actually from the South but I guess he spent enough time there to develop a drawl. I suppose, technically, you can drawl even if you're from other regions of the world but I wouldn't recommend it.

The parachute was invented nearly a hundred years previous to this story so I did one of those "Aw shucks!" movements with my arms in my disappointment in not catching Pynchon committing an anachronistic error. I know, I know! As if he'd mess up with something so obvious! But that's where you're going to have to catch him! With the big things that nobody would bother to research! He'll be all, "Dragons went extinct in 1632" and you'll think, "Yeah, okay, sounds legit." But then if you do the research, you'll be all, "Wait a minute! Dragons NEVER existed!"

That was just a hypothetical piece of fan fiction in which I catch Thomas Pynchon making an error. Here's a piece of historical fiction that you'll enjoy:

The man who didn't invent the parachute but may as well claim to have, André-Jacques Garnerin, died in a balloon accident when he was preparing to test a new parachute. If only he'd had a . . . wait a second! I think I need more details about this accident. I bet it was something like, "Garnerin got into an argument with his wife as they began to ascend and she shot him in the face with her cleavage pistol before they got high enough for him to test his parachute."

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 34 (139)

 Darby, his uniform fluttering in the outrush of gas, gallantly hastened to comply.

* * * * * * * * * *

If this were Shakespeare, I'd say this is probably a fart joke. But it's Pynchon, so it's definitely a fart joke.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 33 (138)

 "Return the valve manually," he shouted up at Darby, "to its closed position," adding, "you little fool," in a barely audible tone.

* * * * * * * * * *

By returning the valve manually, we see that mankind still has ultimate control of the machines he surrounds himself with. Mankind is still in the saddle, if I can be so bold as to distort a poetic reference from a poem I hardly understand and have probably twisted to my own means. Sorry, Waldo.

Speaking of little fools, I once met a guy at a party (the Millennium New Year's Eve party, I believe (the generally accepted one and not the historically accurate one)) who proclaimed he was a Taoist. He said he became Taoist when one of his friends declared he was the most Taoist person he'd ever met. So then he looked into Taoism and strove to become more Taoist. Which, I mean, just seemed like the least Taoist thing ever. I explained to him that I, on the other hand, was absolutely distraught when I learned what Taoism was while studying John Steinbeck's Tortilla Flat because it seemed that that was what I was but by putting a name to it, I suddenly wasn't that at all. When it was just a way I lived my life, it was more the thing than knowing that I was living my life according to some set of beliefs (no matter how sort of lazy and arbitrary they might be, being, you know, Taoist). I decided to just ignore that I ever heard of the stupid philosophy and went back to my life.

I'm not saying I was a better Taoist than this guy who wanted to be the best Taoist but, I mean, come on. I'm sure it wasn't very Taoist of me to gain pleasure from telling this guy that his desire to be Taoist wasn't very Taoist but then, like I said, I didn't become Taoist when I discovered what it was. So what was holding me back from gaining pleasure in this sudden and unexpected moment where pleasure was to be derived?! Fuck that needing to be something unique and special shit! Especially fuck that Taoist shit for trying to make me more Taoist by rejecting Taoism! Stop it, Taoism! Leave me alone! Jerk.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 32 (137)

 As tears of frustration began to gather in Randolph's eyes, Lindsay, sensing in his chief a familiar inertia, his speech only temporarily muffled by Miles's elbow, rushed, or more accurately crawled, into the vacuum of authority.

* * * * * * * * * *

And just like that, 137 lines into the book, I kind of love Lindsay. This moment makes Lindsay a better person than me. He sees his captain overwhelmed by frustration and emotion and moves to take Randolph's burden. I wish I had whatever strength it takes to be like that instead of wrapped up in my own selfishness and paranoid projections of possible manipulation. Lindsay is not only being a good second-in-command here; he's being a good friend as well.

"Familiar inertia" suggests Randolph has previously fallen into this state of paralytic frustration in the past, abandoning his post and responsibility, through no purposeful fault of his own, of course, but due to a minor defect in character, or, possibly, the opposite, a strength of love and emotion for his crew and ship so strong that it can leave him helpless in the face of the impending destruction of either. But loyal and perceptive Lindsay is there to take the reins and bear Randolph's cross.

That's not the appropriate analogy for this, is it? It's just that I used burden earlier so I didn't want to say "shoulder his burden of leadership" even though that's way more appropriate since Randolph has no reason to be bearing a cross here. Unless he sees leadership as a punishment for his sin of caring too much?

Also note the use of the terms "inertia" and "vacuum." Pynchon doesn't want you forgetting that this book is, at its core (maybe? Who knows?! I don't!), about physics.

If you've read this book before and it isn't about physics, no need to tell me. I'll discover that soon enough!

On a side note, I wonder what Pugnax has been up to while the ship has been crashing? Dumb dog!

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 31 (136)

 "What is it that I am to do up here, Professor?" called the ingenuous mascotte.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Ingenuous" means "innocent and unsuspecting." That Darby's a good kid, if a little naïve. Randolph says, "Darby! Climb the outside of that balloon in these torrential winds!" and Darby says, "Right away, Professor!" Even if Darby has no clue what he's doing. How is he supposed to keep the airship from crashing by climbing up onto the envelope? Isn't Chick going to save the day by dropping fat sandbags? Maybe it's a two-part plan! Three parts if you count Lindsay's figure-four hold on Miles to keep him from knocking The Screw loose and cutting free the envelope in a wild series of pie eating accidents.

In a strange way, I now really want to blog every book I read exactly like this! Imagine doing Alan Moore's Jerusalem! Oh! I think I will do that! But just for the Lucia Joyce chapter! Do I need a new blog for that or should I just add it to Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea?!

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 30 (135)

 Looking up, he observed Darby Suckling gazing down at him, inquisitively.

* * * * * * * * * *

Randolph finds himself below and looking up at Darby, as if he were a savior descended from heaven to save him. Although he probably isn't. For one, his name is "Suckling." That's a tiny runt of a pig, right? Cute and useless unless some spider plays up his vague yet inimitable qualities. Also he's confused. So what can he do to save the airship unless Randolph commands him.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 29 (134)

 The ready little fellow scurried up the lines, as Randolph, preoccupied with the crisis and staggering across the deck, somehow tripped over Lindsay Noseworth attempting to extricate himself from beneath the squirming mass of Miles Blundell, and abruptly joined his horizontal shipmates.

* * * * * * * * * *

There's a time in everybody's life when they have that "A-ha!" moment about Shakespeare, when a professor points out that Shakespeare isn't just fancy words and teenage suicide but also full of bawdy jokes and vulgar humor. Of course, the professor has to point it all out explicitly because who can understand that shit? Well, that same thing happened for me with Thomas Pynchon. Except that nobody ever told me how funny he was (even I didn't tell myself after reading The Crying of Lot 49. Although I did think Mason & Dixon was funny but I wasn't sure I was supposed to be finding it funny. Clever, sure. But, I mean, is it funny when underage girls sit on the lap of an 18th century gentleman to tease him with their fannies because they enjoy seeing him walk around with a boner? That's funny, right? Or gross? I can't tell anymore); I had to figure it out myself by reading Gravity's Rainbow. But now that I know he can be silly and low brow and enjoys hiding phallic symbols in his imagery, I wasn't confused at all by this prolonged slapstick bit.

Not that it's really prolonged! I explained that in an earlier blog post! But it feels long when every sentence works at making the entanglements of the slapstick scene more chaotic. This is just more of that! Now Randolph has fallen on his ass in a pile of Lindsay arms and Miles chub ruffles (I'm using their names as descriptions of the body parts and not as the possessors of the body parts so stop frowning and squinting your eyes and judging me for a typo and/or grammar error that doesn't exist). If you picture it, you'll probably laugh pretty hard! Not out loud, of course. Nobody really laughs out loud while reading, do they? I mean except for that candy eating scene in Gravity's Rainbow. I made sure everybody seated around me at the coffee shop while I was reading it heard me chuckle appreciatively at the humor, ending every chuckle with a softly spoken (but loud enough to make sure everybody heard), "Oh, that Pynchon! Ha!"

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 28 (133)

 "Suckling! aloft, and quickly!"

* * * * * * * * * *

"Suckling! aloft, and quickly! Ho!" Randolph
Commands his crew. Insistent now, his fear,
It creeps. The rest of them, they whinge and scoff,
Their trust—that youth will keep them safe—so clear.
So youth is wasted on the young. Let youths
Deny and disregard mortality.
Why burden them with thoughts of death whose truths
Can haunt, stalling risky ability?
Their ends, often, so close at hand but they
Do not notice at all. Like water drip-
ping off the duck, it bothers not their play.
Carefree and slow, they right the lilting ship.
They live through Hell and we think, "What the fuck?"
Young lives saved through dexterity and luck.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 27 (132)

 The valve now remained ajar—the very mouth of Hell!

* * * * * * * * * *

Oh! Maybe the Crack of Doom was also a reference to The Lord of the Rings! Because that Crack of Doom was also a very mouth of Hell! A very, very mouth of Hell even! But how does that reference even work thematically?! I'm open to it being a true reference and not just a big dumb joke. But I think I need to know more about the themes and plot of the book to figure it out. Maybe it's just to remind the reader of Gollum and how much Gollum loves riddles which then makes the reader think of this riddle:

When is a valve not a valve? When it's ajar! Ah ha ha ha ha!

Yeah. That's an analytical reading that would totally fly in academia.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 26 (131)

 With a loud twang that may as well have been the Crack of Doom, the line around his foot was yanked free of its attachment to the Main Valve, though not before pulling beyond its elastic limit the spring meant to restore it to a safely-closed position.

* * * * * * * * * *

The "Crack of Doom" is an obvious reference to Tolkien who was born just a year previous in 1892. Okay, maybe not. But it could be, seeing that it's capitalized, a reference to William Minto's 1886 science fiction novel. No wait! It definitely definitely is a reference to Robert Cromie's 1885 science fiction novel, The Crack of Doom which "explores the dangers of unfettered scientific experimentation" (quote from the Google Book description). The book is set in the year 2000 and is best known for being the first science fiction work to contemplate the end of the world through nuclear Armageddon. The antagonist is also super evil because he's a feminist. So maybe Robert Cromie was also the first incel? The synopsis of the story I read also states that along with feminism, the antagonist is motivated by "other unacceptable beliefs." I wonder if any of them are labor union oriented?

Aside from tying this book into the post-modern world of nuclear annihilation through the casual connective tissue of referencing a 19th Century science fiction novel to describe the snapping of a rope, the part about the spring being pulled beyond its elastic limit and thus not being able to restore itself to its normative and acceptable and safe settings should probably be focused on for thematic reasons. I don't know what those thematic reasons are, exactly, because I haven't read the book. But I'm sure they're a reference to regular, common folk being driven well past their breaking point, so much so that they never truly right themselves again. Like Frost's "Birches" after some boy has been swinging them! Or were the ones that never truly righted themselves the ones bowed down by snow and nature? You know what? It doesn't matter because I got to reference "Birches" (a poem I once parodied as "Bitches" (Oh, you want to read that now, do you? Well, you'll have to ask for it).

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 25 (130)

 Chick shrugged and released his grip on Miles, proceeding lackadaisically to the nearest gunwale to unlash the ballast bags there, leaving Lindsay, with no time to adjust to the increased burden, to crash to the deck with a panicked cry, and the now all but hysterical Miles Blundell on top of him.

* * * * * * * * * *

If I weren't reading this book one line at a time, this slapstick scene would have been over in a matter of seconds. I don't think you're supposed to spend a full week on a slapstick section of text. It certainly leaves me with not much to say the further I get into it. This is because the chaos of slapstick, while something that visually happens quite fast, needs more space and time to describe the intricacies of it in writing. Watching a short clip of somebody slipping on a banana peel is over quickly and immediately satisfying, because the entire thing is experienced at one moment. The movement of the body and the look on the person's face as the foot loses friction and maybe a bystander's reaction nearby combined with the solid sound of the rump hitting floor, the exhalation of breath at impact . . . it all happens in parallel and in just a few seconds. But to describe such a moment in writing would take a paragraph or more. And, in essence, it deflates (as the balloon in the current scene) the whole point of a slapstick moment. But that doesn't stop a writer like Thomas Pynchon!

Part of what helps Pynchon's elongated slapstick scene is the characters' lack of concern with the impending disaster. The writing lengthens the scene and the characters' apathy toward their plummeting airship slows the scene to fit the writing length. Miles getting tangled and causing the ship to begin to plummet while Lindsay rushes to untangle him and Randolph begins shouting panicky orders at his crew should all take place in a dozen seconds or so. But Chick's "lackadaisical" attitude decompresses time. This effect is further achieved with Darby's aside about Lindsay's sudden affliction of potty mouth.

In a way, we have characters moving at vastly different speeds. Chick and Darby are nonchalant and unaffected by the impending crash while Lindsay and Randolph are hyperaware of the critical situation they've found themselves. Miles is a bit in the middle, not too concerned and basically become a puppet to the likes of Lindsay and Chick trying to untangle him. He's just more of the machinery of the ship at this point.

Also, we get another reminder that Miles is fat when Lindsay fails to have time to adjust to "the increased burden." 

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Lines 23-24 (128-129)

 "Counterfly, the ballast man! leave that spastical oaf be, and jettison our sandbags, or we are done for!"

* * * * * * * * * *

I think this is Randolph calling Miles fat again by the literary device of juxtaposition. By invoking the term "ballast," we assume he's talking about the sandbags. But what if he's talking about the other heavy thing in the line, the spastical oaf? Obviously he isn't but that's the job of juxtaposition! To make you think, if even for a fleeting moment, "Oh yeah. That Miles is a fat little oaf, isn't he?"

Not that I'd think that! I would never judge somebody by how much they resemble a sand bag!

Also, calling Miles "spastical" reminds me that perhaps Miles actually has a condition that has yet to be mentioned, perhaps of an epileptic nature.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 22 (127)

 "Not now!" screamed Randolph, flinging off the young mascotte's importunate grasp and frightening him nearly out of his wits.

* * * * * * * * * *

One (and by "one" I mean "I") often thinks that other languages (especially German and maybe Japanese) have all the words that describe actions or conditions to such a specific degree that they demand to be used as loaner words. But sometimes English surprises you (I mean, me, really. I'm the one surprised. I know you're not because you're smarter than I am) with a word like "importunate" which describes perfectly the actions of a young boy demanding some nonsense from a person of authority. "Persistent to the point of annoyance." It practically describes me at thirteen! The difficult part of expressing oneself to such a fine degree of accuracy is that you actually have to learn and remember so many words! How does one do that? I know that reading helps but I've read a lot and I would never have thought to use the word "importunate." Also I never would have thought of writing a novel about the A-4 Rocket as some kind of metaphor for life.

Maybe I was just reading all the wrong books as a kid? Dungeons & Dragons modules taught me words like "dais" and "alcove" and "adjacent" but I never ran into the word "importunate." Maybe that word was in the one Choose Your Own Adventure book I missed out on? Or maybe I should have simply grown up reading the Oxford English Dictionary. But even then, I never would have remembered much of it.

How does Susie Dent do it?! If you don't know who I'm talking about, you're not British. But you should Google her because she's amazing.

Chapter 1: Section 2: Page 12: Line 21 (126)

 "You see, you see?" squealed Darby, "going after a fellow's mother—"

* * * * * * * * * *

How far back do "Your mom!" jokes go? Is Oedipus a really elaborate "Your mom!" joke? It may be an easy and unimaginative joke to simply reply "Your mom!" to some statement but I have to admit that it probably makes me laugh at least 40 percent of the time. I was never smart enough to think up or ambitious enough to remember or memorize really good your mom insults (although maybe I should commit Lindsay's to memory from the previous line. It's a knockout!). For some reason, most of those revolved around a person's mother being fat. I only had one friend whose mother was obese and I would never have said to him, "Your mother is so fat that when she wears a red dress, people yell, 'Hey, Kool-Aid!'" I would have been more apt to say, "How's your mom, Ron? I hope she's doing well?"

Anyway, I liked all my friends' moms! Why would I want to insult them when I could just call my friend a dumb ugly bastard?!

What's great about this whole bit is simply how Pynchon acknowledges how some things never really change.

Do girls have "Your Dad!" jokes? Or does every young person just seem to agree that insulting your mother is terrible because they love their mothers while insulting their dad barely registers because he never shows his love anyway?

Chapter 1: Section 2: Pages 11-12: Line 20 (125)

 "Insubordinate drivel, Suckling," sternly declared Lindsay, "will earn you someday what is known among the lower seafaring elements as a 'Liverpool Kiss,' long before you ever receive one of the more conventional variety, save perhaps for those rare occasions upon which your mother, no doubt in some spell of absentmindedness, has found herself able to bestow that astonishing yet, I fear (unhappy woman), misplaced, sign of affection."

* * * * * * * * * *

Look, you can both despise and admire a person at the same time! How many levels of shade is this? And it's all because he's been called out, accurately, by a lower ranking crewman! The testicles on this mother-doer!

First, Lindsay claims Darby's going over his head to tattle to Randolph is "insubordinate drivel." That might be but what is Darby supposed to do? Complain to Lindsay himself?! Then he threatens to headbutt the kid. Not directly, of course, but hypothetically! "Oh, someday, kid, somebody less classy and refined than me is going to take physical actions against you for criticizing them fairly and accurately!" Then he calls him a virgin whose only possibility of getting a kiss might be from his mother! And not a motherly kiss but a kiss from an unwilling (and depressed! Geez!) mother who doesn't actually like her son but accidentally gave him one anyway!

It's just a truly phenomenal insult! I still hate Lindsay but, as I think the kids used to say but almost certainly don't say anymore because old people like me now know what they mean when they might say it, "Game recognize game!"

Did I get that right? Does it mean what I think it means? Are the kids still flossing to Fortnite?

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?"

* * * * * * * * * *

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. . . .

* * * * * * * * * *

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.