Today we are joined by Lindsay Noseworth, whose rôles include Master in Arms of the Inconvenience, and the not unburdensome responsibility of being second-in-command of said airship. Mr. Noseworth has stepped up to the plate, as it were- although playing baseball is difficult, if not impossible aboard an airship- to be the role model and all-around conscience of the crew of the Inconvenience, also known as the Chums of Chance. Mr. Noseworth has agreed to discuss events which unfold during "Light Over the Ranges," this being the first of five books contained by the larger, door-stopping tome, Against the Day by Thomas Pynchon.
Heather: Mr. Noseworth, could you tell us a little something about the Chums of Chance?
L.N.: Well, certainly I could, seeing as I, myself, am one of their number. The Chums of Chance is an organization that turns boys into men, and teaches them to fly- that is, to fly on an airship and go on all sorts of adventures some of which, perhaps, you've already read.
Heather: Can you give us some examples?
L.N: Goodness gracious, where to start. There was there was our top-secret assignment in Washington*, during which, by the way, we came across Pugnax.
(*see, The Chums of Chance and the Evil Halfwit)
Heather: And who is Pugnax?
L.N.: Oh, he's just a dog with an annoying habit of lallygagging on deck reading books, and generally getting underfoot and being a nuisance.
Heather: Excuse me, did you say the dog reads?
L.N.: Incessantly. Well, there was the time we went to Mexico**, and the whole mess we had to straighten out in Hawaii***, which happens to be where Miles learned to play the ukelele.
(** see The Chums of Chance in Old Mexico; *** see The Chums of Chance and the Curse of the Great Kahuna)
Heather: Miles Blundell, that would be, correct?
L.N.: Exactly. Fine enough fellow, as they go, but he nearly precipitates disaster upon the Inconvenience, endangering not only the crew but everyone underneath the airship before we've gotten more than a dozen pages into Pynchon's chronicle of our adventures.
Heather: That brings us to an interesting question. Your branch of the Chums of Chance organization has received rather more press, shall we say, than other crews of hardy fellows trying to keep their noses clean as they keep the peace. Would you comment on how Mr. Pynchon's rendering of the tale in question compares to the vast literary output other authors have produced in your honor?
L.N. To be honest, ma'am, I've seen better work than Against the Day. For starters, he left Chums of Chance right out of the title of the book. Going to make it hard to sell, that's for sure. Our young readers won't know the book's about us, and unless they're smarter than me, they won't know what the title means, at all.
Heather: A point well taken. Beyond the title do you have any other complaints?
L.N.: Well, don't get me wrong, Mr. Pynchon has clearly done his best, and put in untold hours scratching his pen. But he could have saved himself a whole lot of work if he'd kept the story more to the Chums of Chance. See, every few chapters, he'll pick some fellow who shares a meal, a song, an afternoon's work with us, and just goes running off from the Inconvenience chasing after this fellow. Not only that, we stop the whole story to go back and learn the details of their lives, and sometimes the details of their parents' lives or their children's lives. And I hate to say it, but not all these characters are folks you'd invite to Sunday dinner, if you know what I mean. Some of them are fools, no better or worse than the rest of us, but some of them are unemployed, have wives who run off with magicians, some are dynamiters, some are murderers-- some are even communists. And I just don't think that's the sort of thing our young readers should have their impressionable young minds exposed to.
Heather: Thanks for shedding light on the novel today, Mr. Noseworth. I trust your crew is, by now, missing your inspiring presence. I leave you to your duties.
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