Linkstew

So it goes: Kurt Vonnegut, Counterculture’s Novelist, Dies

Because Kurt Vonnegut said it better than I ever could:

So this book is a sidewalk strewn with junk, trash which I throw over my shoulders as I travel in time to November eleventh, nineteen hundred and twenty-two.

I will come to a time in my backwards trip when November eleventh, accidentally my birthday, was a sacred day called Armistice Day. When I was a boy, all the people of all the nations which had fought in the First World War were silent during the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of Armistice Day, which was the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

It was during that minute in nineteen hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped butchering one and another. I have talked to old men who were on battlefields during that minute. They have told me in one way or another that the sudden silence was the voice of God. So we still have among us some men who can remember when God spoke clearly to mankind.

Armistice Day has become Veterans' Day. Armistice Day was sacred. Veterans' day is not.

So I will throw Veterans' Day over my shoulder. Armistice Day I will keep. I don't want to throw away any sacred things.

What else is sacred? Oh, Romeo and Juliet, for instance.

And all music is.

-- "Breakfast of Champions" by Kurt Vonnegut, 1973

Happy Birthday Kurt. And Remember Armistice Day.

A week ago, Kurt Vonnegut ended up in the hospital after a fire in his house. He was hospitalized due to smoke inhalation, which is quite ironic, given Vonneguts oral fixation. He should come through alright.

The really strange thing was that when I heard this news, I became very concerned. You see, through Vonneguts writing, I came to feel like I knew him really well. Which is silly, because I've never met the man, let alone communicated with him. All the same, though, through his writing his personality became very clear. Which should serve to illustrate just how well Vonnegut wrote.

Wrote. Past tense. He shouldn't write anymore. He's written enough, he should just finish living now.

My brother IM'd me with the text "RAMS DID IT!!!!!" at the exact same moment as someone in the hall shouted "RAMS DID IT!!!!" Not that surprising, but the timing was superb.

And then, from out of nowhere, this new book from Kurt Vonnegut came out, which tickled me to death, and which I've enjoyed immensly so far. Bogombo Snuff Box is a collection of his previously unreleased short fiction from early in his carreer. It'd be safe to think of it as Welcome to the Monkey House 2.

Very worth a read, even if you don't like Vonnegut's novels. As he explains, a short story is quite not a novel for a number of reasons.

In Deadeye Dick, by Kurt Vonnegut, the narrator characterizes a soldier as an "Almond Macaroon." Apparently, a macaroon is a type of cookie, but I had never heard of a macaroon until a few weeks earlier, when we had been reading "A Doll's House," by Ibsen in my A.P. English class.

I just read Deadeye Dick, by Vonnegut again. It was good, because it was by Vonnegut, but it wasn't one of my favorites by a long shot. It was a terribly depressing and final book, and Vonnegut's attempted suicide in 1984 -- two years after Deadeye Dick was published -- isn't too surprising when the book is taken into consideration. I think people should probably save this book for later in their Vonnegut readings, along with Breakfast of Champions. Breakfast of Champions should be read first, however, as both books are set in Midland City, Ohio, but Deadeye Dick is set 10 years after Breakfast of Champions.

So this book, as do all too many of Vonneguts books, relies heavily on knowledge of the world which Vonnegut has constructed about himself. He claimed he threw all of that out in Breakfast of Champions, but this book features the return of much of it, including Kilgore Trout and Midland City, among others.

This book certainly isn't bad, though. It's a lot like coffee. If Vonnegut were all of coffee, then something like Mother Night would be your standard coffee, while Deadeye Dick would be the kinda coffee that kicks a whole in your head and keeps you up at night, weeks later.

Buy Deadeye Dick now from Amazon!

Galapagos, again by Kurt Vonnegut, was really very excellent. His first novel after his attempted suicide, Galapagos really is a wonderful story, though one of his last. The whole point of the narrative is that Humans do stand a chance and that there is hope. Vonnegut blames all of humankinds problems on the great big brains in their heads which have too much power for their own good. I would tend to agree with him, and I think it could be paralleled simply with the increasing power of todays computer systems. Where I was going with that is left as an excersize to the reader.

For some reason I was reminded occasionally of "Oh, God!" staring John Denver and George Burns while reading this book. I think it was probably because the moral of both of them was the same. To quote George Burns' character, "It Can work."

Buy Galapagos now from Amazon!

I read Hocus Pocus by Kurt Vonnegut recently, and it was very good. I love all of Vonneguts works, but occasionally he gets a bit too anecdotal, even for me. Timequake, for example, suffered extremely from this problem. Hocus Pocus, however, was an in depth account of the life of Eugene Debs Hartke, and, while any Vonnegut aficionado will recognize just how much this book draws from Vonneguts own life, it at least had the intention of a plot instead of what is found in Timequake.

It probably wouldn't translate incredibly well to a movie, as any story involving excessive flashbacks generally wouldn't. The entire story is a flashback, but it flashes to about three or four different, distinct points of interest in Hartke's life. Each of these events has their own significance, and each tell their own story and have their own moral.

Additionally, this book stands well on its own, and doesn't rely on other stories as a crutch, as Timequake does. This is definately one of Vonneguts best works, and also one of his last, but also one of the first that anyone should read. I would recommend it before even the venerable Slaughterhouse Five.

Buy Hocus Pocus now from Amazon!

Mother Night, by Kurt Vonnegut, was the first shot he took at writing about his experiences in World War II, and on several counts I actually liked it better than his "acclaimed anti-war novel" Slaughterhouse Five. He continued the theme which he presented in The Sirens of Titan, which was that "A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved." This book, along with several of his others, was presented as a first person narrative which is pleasing to read and offers much insight into not only Vonneguts characters, but also Vonnegut himself.

This novel had many merits, including interesting characters, a mysterious past, a mysterious present, and even a pink elephant. Well, not really an elephant, but all the other important elements are there, and they add up to an enjoyable narrative. Additionally, it's a quick read, and sticks to the story closely, unlike many Vonnegut stories which have the bad habit of becoming his own personal soapbox in which he talks about himself.

On this whole, this is an excellent book, and stands well on it's own. Many Vonnegut books are dependent on others to really make sense and be good, but this books is good on its own merits. I've also heard that a movie has been made of this book staring Kirsten Dunst and others, but I've never seen it. While most of Vonneguts stories do not translate well to movies, this particular story could be done well as a movie. I'll have to rent it some day.

Buy Mother Night now from Amazon!