Slaughterhouse-Five

           Vonnegut is a very polarizing author; you either love him or you hate him. In my opinion, he is a goddamn literary genius and you are tripping balls if you don’t agree. (Side note: you know you are a thorough writer when you perform a little CTRL-F action to make sure you haven’t overused the phrase “tripping balls” in your blog. To my surprise, this is the first time. To your benefit, it won’t be the last). I first introduced this author with my post on Cat's Cradle and I’ve been a little cultishly obsessed every since. 

Reasons Vonnegut is the shit:

A)                       I’m a big fan of philosophy because, I dunno, it helps explain why we exist, do what we do, think the way we think, and know the things we know. There are plenty of enjoyable “philosophy books”, but sometimes they get too murky and they start to hurt your head. When that happens, a good alternative is *philosophical fiction*-- a discussion of philosophical ideas within a more entertaining, consumable, fictional setting. Vonnegut is particularly adept at this genre.

B)                      He incorporates bizarre science fiction without being all in your face about it.

C)                      He utilizes the “unreliable narrator” technique in which the person telling us the story isn’t entirely credible, either by their own admission or by the fact that they are too wound up in the plot to notice their own biases. This literary approach is masterfully employed in previous novels I’ve reviewed such as The Brothers Karamazov, Gone Girl, Lolita, and more. In my opinion, it is implemented most beautifully in Death with Interruptions. It is a very enjoyable device in that it lets readers feel they are experiencing the fictional journey alongside a human narrator.

D)                      He's a humanist and it shows. 

Enough about how awesome I think Vonnegut is and more about this book in particular. It follows Billy Pilgrim-- a WWII POW in Dresden, Germany when a massive bombing occurs in the city. This was a historical event that happened to Vonnegut himself. Because it’s a war book, there’s obviously speculation as to the meaninglessness of life and usage of fatalistic themes that so often accompany mass-slaughter. While it would be easy to introduce those themes straightforwardly, Vonnegut embodies them in an alien race of Tralfamadorians who, fittingly, live on Tralfamadore. Pilgrim is prone to narcolepsy, and when he falls asleep, he travels in time. At one point, he is captured and transported to Tralfamadore, where they each learn about each other’s way of life. The Tralfamadorian way of life is pretty sick.

Vonnegut is not for everyone, but you should definitely give him a try. Cat's Cradle is excellent, but I’ll give Slaughterhouse-Five* a slight edge—although that might just be the recency effect. Both books earn the coveted 5 out of 5 camel hump label and should be a staple of any bookshelf. 

*Vonnegut, Kurt. Slaughterhouse-Five. New York: Dell Publishing, 1969. Print.

Breakfast of Champions

            Breakfast of Champions*. I experienced one of these winning meals only two weeks ago--when I went temporarily insane and voluntarily ran 3 miles before bottomless brunch. Things were poppin off for the LGBT pride parade (woop woop), so I heartily downed several mimosas while we waited 2 hours for our food. I’m too little for that nonsense, so I ended up like this:

Adulthood!!

            This Vonnegut novel turned out much better than my embarrassing afternoon.  Published in 1973, it emerged after his acclaimed works Cat's Cradle and Slaughterhouse-Five. As such, he ingeniously capitalized on his previous fictional characters that readers already knew and loved. For instance, Kilgore Trout is a minor character in Slaughterhouse-Five who I found endearingly nutty and unsuspectingly wise. I was disappointed that he wasn’t more in the forefront; so, I was pleasantly surprised to encounter him as a B-of-C main character. Trout is a profuse writer, though not successful by conventional standards, who creates outlandish science fiction tales strategically imbued with currents of deep-thinking. These stories usually describe the customs and belief systems of alien races on far away planets. For example, “Gilgongo” is an anti-conservation story about a planet with a creation problem. Every single hour, new species come into being, which is overwhelming and unpredictable for the planet’s residents. Consequently, they try their best to systematically eradicate whole species. In the end, the planet is suffocated by a blanket “composed of passenger pigeons and eagles and Bermuda Erns and whooping cranes” (Vonnegut, 89). Like I said…wacky but thought provoking. Trout eventually collides with another main character—Dwayne Hoover, a wealthy Pontiac dealer who loses his marbles. Not in the sense that he’ll have a difficult time playing Mancala… he literally becomes deranged.

           

            While these two characters are certainly a large focus, Vonnegut emphasizes that even the seemingly insignificant peripheral ones hold key roles. He does this implicitly, by intricately weaving everyone in and out of each other’s lives and connecting them by ties, both loose and tight. He also conveys this message explicitly, when he explains, “I resolved to shun storytelling. I would write about life. Every person would be exactly as important as any other. All facts would also be given equal weightiness. Nothing would be left out. Let others bring order to chaos. I would bring chaos to order…If all writers would do that, then perhaps citizens not in the literary trades will understand that there is no order in the world around us, that we must adapt ourselves to the requirements of chaos instead” (Vonnegut, 215). Additionally, his several allusions to communism help bolster this notion of shared significance.

            The excerpt above uses the word “I”, openly offering the author’s perspective, which is one of my favorite aspects of this novel. Vonnegut himself is an actively involved character who comically interjects himself into his own book! Towards the end of the story, he announces to readers, “I had come to the Arts Festival incognito. I was there to watch a confrontation between two human beings I had created” (Vonnegut, 197). In past novels, he consistently mockingly refers to “the Creator of the Universe”. Here, in a *meta* sense, he is the Creator of the Universe, acting as a puppeteer to guide what characters do and say. Yet admittedly, the characters sometimes shock him and don’t act exactly according to plan. SoOoOoOo we have the ingredients for a deep discussion on determinism. Hook me up with some philosophical soup.

In veritable Vonnegut fashion, Breakfast of Champions is in many ways concerned with free will or lack thereof. Some of those ways include:

• The notion of human beings as specifically programmed machines. We might all just be complex compilations of chemicals/molecules trying to interact with other chemicals/molecules of varying assembly. Our history of slavery reflects the idea that humans are machines that can be employed for physical labor. Perhaps, though there is a sacred part in each of us that is not dictated by machinery—our individual awareness. But perhaps not! 
• The belief that humans are controlled by consumerism. In the name of “progress”, we are inevitably bombarded by advertisements, which we use to navigate life. He repeatedly reminds us that the name of the book “is a registered trademark of General Mills, Inc., for use on a breakfast cereal product” (Vonnegut, 1). As machines, we take in this data (the cereal box says the cereal tastes good) and spew out formulaic responses (this cereal tastes good).
• The impression that ideas are transmitted, augmented, and belittled not by the basis of their merit, but because of friendship/enmity. Truth becomes relative because friends agree with friends and enemies disagree with enemies, thus rendering certain ideas “common sense” in some circles and their opposing ideas “common sense” in others. 
• Echoes of recurring sentiments found in his other novels. In reference to Trout, Vonnegut says, “But his head no longer sheltered ideas of how things could be and should be on the planet, as opposed to how they really were. There was only one way for the Earth to be, he thought: the way it was” (Vonnegut, 106). How very Tralfamadorian of him.
• Vonnegut’s use of foreshadowing. As the Creator of the Breakfast of Champions universe, he knows how the book is going to end and he repeatedly tells us what will happen before it actually does.
• The erratic nature of his text, with page breaks and intermittent drawings. This novel is laden with felt-tip pen illustrations—a style that I find unique, relevant, and sometimes even impressively skillful. The aforementioned quote in which Vonnegut strives to “bring chaos to order” is expressed even in the atypical presentation of words on a page, fragmented by his artwork  (Vonnegut, 215). For your viewing pleasure: 
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•         The possibility that Vonnegut, like Kilgore Trout, is writing this novel for an alien race. He often refers to “planet Earth” or “the wrecked planet” in a detached manner that implies he is speaking to an audience unfamiliar with the world’s structure. Just like we find Trout’s stories of alien activity slightly ridiculous, viewing our planet from an outsider’s perspective sheds light on our more peculiar habits and how we view ourselves as “free”.

These metaphors and themes unload a series of questions on readers. Are we unknowingly squandering our free will? Does embracing the concept of free will lead to constructive activity or demise? Is there space for individual creativity in a world devoid of free will? Can alcohol as both a social and private lubricant change our machinery or chemical composition such that it enables or inhibits autonomy? What is the appropriate role of government and environmentalism in a universe dictated by determinism? As usual, Vonnegut leaves me with more questions than I have answers. While I’m tempted to demand that his grandiose ideas need more elaboration, he himself confesses that writing this book simply helped him “clear [his] head of all the junk in there” (Vonnegut, 5). He might have some well-articulated opinions on the subject but that doesn’t necessarily lead to concrete solutions. For instance, I love (and this is often a turning point where Vonnegut-haters vehemently disagree) when he forces readers to deal with the ugly facts of life by framing situations in pure, simplistic terms. He satirically strips away all of the frivolity so common in literature and reaches the core, nagging concern behind a phenomenon to expose its absurdities. At one point, he states, “Viet Nam was a country where America was trying to make people stop being communists by dropping things on them from airplanes” (Vonnegut, 88). This is a perfect example of how Vonnegut addresses intense subjects—usually involving oppression—without directly giving us “the answer” to the problem. Instead, he equips us with ways of thinking; he arms us with a manner of seeing the world that makes it tolerable to live in a place where oppression exists.

This is all to say—don’t read this book if you don’t want to think. If you get on your summertime carefree grind, by all means, turn to something less intellectually exhausting. But I feel quite strongly that everyone at some point should read Vonnegut in some form. Just like the last two, I give Breakfast of Champions 5 out of 5 camel humps and I find the three Vonnegut novels I’ve read equally compelling in their own way. He is refreshingly capable of probing larger-than-life issues head on while maintaining an entertaining plot. His writing is intricate and intentional—with carefully placed symbolism and themes that continue to pleasantly haunt you well after you’ve put the book down. He is full of the good kind of surprises—the ones that don’t piss you off—and I’m excited for what else he has in store for me. Next up: Player Piano.

*Vonnegut, Kurt. Breakfast of Champions. New York: Dial Press Trade Paperbacks, 1973. Print.

Cat's Cradle

Do not be dismayed by the title! I realize that cats are smelly, underhanded creatures that meet when humans are asleep to deviously plot our demise. Fortunately, the cat in Cat’s Cradle* is not a literal one; the phrase refers to a string game involving two or more players. The first player initiates the game by creating a figure with their fingers and string that simultaneously depicts either a cat or a cradle, depending on the view. Players then go back and forth, creating subsequent figures from a pre-determined list. The game ends when a player chooses a dead-end figure. This sounds like a mind-numbingly boring game. I would rather Yo-Yo for 24 hours straight, performing the only trick I mildly know how to do—“Walk the Dog”—over and over. Regardless, it serves Kurt Vonnegut’s purposes.

Vonnegut was born in Indianapolis in 1922. He attended Cornell University where he majored in Chemistry and edited an independent, student-run newspaper. He was also a member of Delta Upsilon, so all you frat boys out there—you have a pretty intelligent brother in your midst. Later in life, he endured some horrific WWII combat experiences, one of which inspired his renowned novel, Slaughterhouse-Five. Post-war, he attended the University of Chicago, where Cat’s Cradle served as his thesis. The novel was not only embraced by his professors and the public, Vonnegut himself rated it an A+ in comparison to his other novels.  

I whole-heartedly agree that this story is incredibly inventive; while the novel has a vague historical context, it is entirely fictional. It is narrated by John-- an ordinary man who intends to write a book about the day Hiroshima was bombed. Through this pursuit, he meets the three children of a deceased Felix Hoenikker, the fictitious creator of the atomic bomb. These children possess a secret which leads the entire crew to an island called San Lorenzo. On the surface, San Lorenzo is a Christian country that condemns followers of Bokononism to death. In reality, everyone—even the dictator—is a Bokononist. Political defiance, I like it already!

Bokononism is a faith unabashedly based on lies. The Book of Bokonon is full of foma – “harmless untruths” and Bokonon himself explicitly warns readers to take his religion with a grain of salt. Basically:

He claims that it is utterly foolish to think that you will ever be able to understand the ways of the world or speak knowingly about cosmic significance. What the hell do you know, you’re a stupid human?! I can only imagine how enjoyable it was for Vonnegut to create and define a bunch of kooky words within a kooky, fabricated religion. Implicit in this novel is the idea that all religion is fabricated; no belief system points to an absolute truth and no divine creed accurately explains the existence of humanity. Below is a brief list of some tenets of Bokononism:

• Karass—a group of people that unknowingly help each other perform God’s will. Membership can supersede imposed boundaries like race, class, nationality, etc. Sometimes a karass consists of only two people who are particularly in-tune with each other—this is a duprass.
• Granfalloon—a phony karass. You might think that a shared connection such as similar political stance, fellow college alumni status, or parallel career path could be indicative of a karass type bond, but this is not necessarily the case. This is comforting to me-- after homecoming at UVA last weekend, I realized that while I really enjoy the company of most of you, there are some of you who I think are total asshats and I’d prefer never to see you again, much less share a karass with you.
• Vin-dit—an abrupt, hard shove towards believing in Bokononism. A calling, if you will. 
• Wampeter- the pivot around which the souls of karass members revolve. A wampeter could be anything: a painting, a speech, a plot, a sleeping bag, etc. Additionally, wampeters are impermanent; they come and go, and there is always “one waxing in importance and one waning” (Vonnegut, 52).

Now that that list is over, hopefully I’ll be less bombarded by those little, annoying red squiggly lines coming at me from spell-check. In sum, Bokononism seeks to embody the notion that a useful religion can be founded on lies. San Lorenzo is an underdeveloped, unproductive country overpopulated with poor people. For its inhabitants--who lead miserable, stinking existences-- truth is the enemy. They want to escape the cold, brutal reality of their living standards. In order to distract them from their plight, Bokonon—the island’s ruler at one point, outlawed himself. He wanted to jazz up the people’s lives, noting that, “a really good religion is a form of treason” (Vonnegut, 173).

Though Bokononism seeks to make life more tolerable and peaceful, it does not shy away from cynicism related to the fate of mankind. It balances a wry, irreverent acceptance of the way life ultimately is with the desire to make things as enjoyable and entertaining as possible (absurdism, anyone?). As such, the only thing sacred in the religion is mankind. One story within The Book of Bokonon describes a man questioning his purpose in life. God retorts by inquiring why everything must have a purpose. When the man persists with his original query, God simply says, “‘Then I leave it to you to think of [a purpose] for all this,’” before he drops the mic and walks away (Vonnegut, 265). I did not realize that God had so much swag.

I have some ideas about the deeper meanings of this book; I could be completely pulling them out of my ass or I could (hopefully) be onto something. Vonnegut was a self-proclaimed humanist, i.e. he favors science over religion as a tool to make sense of the world. Because of his philosophical stance, I can do a little deducting. It is not difficult to observe—and personally feel for that matter—that humans are plagued by a throbbing need to have something to live for. In response, we often turn to religion to give our lives meaning and render our existence less mundane and inconsequential. Vonnegut feels that religions and the rituals that accompany them attempt to meet this human need but are sometimes destructive in the process.

Man is sacred in Bokononism which indicates that this particular religion is potentially on to something. According to Vonnegut, religion in general is pretty ridiculous; instead, let’s focus on human agency so that we can actually get some shit done. Towards the end of the book, John acknowledges “the cruel paradox of Bokononist thought…the heartbreaking necessity of lying about reality, and the heartbreaking impossibility of lying about it” (Vonnegut, 284). Newt, one of the Hoenikker children, is a midget. Ruthlessly ridiculed, he would probably love to lie to himself about his height to get through the day, but he obviously cannot. Walking beside another person or stopping to look in the mirror would shatter that lie. So, reality is not always that great and we might not effectively squash our desire for purposeful lives on a wider scale. BUT…let’s do the best we can with what we have and try and adopt a human-centered philosophy that encourages active participation in life and love for all our fellow creatures.

Now, what’s the deal with the title? “Cat’s Cradle” as a game begins with a figure that can be seen as a cat or a cradle, depending on one’s perspective. In my opinion, Vonnegut is making a parallel between the number of different shapes you can make with the string and the various religions we desperately cling to in our attempts at self-assurance. All religions: Bokononism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, etc., are the same in that they’re made of lies. (Of note: this is my interpretation of Vonnegut and not necessarily reflective of my own beliefs). I am not entirely sure if that is what he meant by the title, but I love that the novel still has me ruminating on the subject and I’m open to suggestions. That being said, there are multiple additional controversial topics underlying the text (arms race, technology, science) that I did not have time to discuss here but might be of interest to another reader.

Overall, I found the novel brilliant and captivating; the story was queer and the philosophy behind it was stimulating. Furthermore, it was a very easy read, with short, digestible chapters. I am a total sucker for gallow’s humor and I absolutely recommend this book to anyone who shares that predilection. Even if you’re not into religion, philosophy, science, being entertained, expanding your knowledge base, etc., the Bokonon aphorisms are both comical and wise enough to draw you in. Lastly, there is a group of people who form the “Camp of Bokonon” and attend Burning Man every year. Considering Burning Man looks like one of the most incredible events that mankind could possibly participate in, I’d say that that confirms this novel is deserving of the 5 out of 5 camel hump realm.

*Vonnegut, Kurt. Cat’s Cradle. New York: The Dial Press, 1963. Print.

Welcome to the Monkey House

             If you’re not a fan of fiction, then you haven’t read Vonnegut. He’s the only author who I feel complete confidence recommending. Don’t know where to start? It really doesn’t matter much. I could guide you to a certain extent—and I have, in my reviews of Cat’s Cradle, Slaughterhouse-Five, and Breakfast of Champions. But Vonnegut stays true to his bizarre, dystopic science-fiction themes, his satirical voice, and his philosophical undertones. You know what you’re going to get. And it’s going to be remarkable.

            Welcome to the Monkey House* is a collection of 25 short stories. Vonnegut says in the preface, “the contents of this book are samples of work I sold in order to finance the writing of the novels. Here one finds the fruits of Free Enterprise” (Vonnegut, xiv). I adore the novels and I’m thankful for the work that enabled them, but this collection is intelligent, witty, and entertaining in its own right. The short story format, which I’ve hailed in the past, is ideal for a man like Vonnegut who is overflowing with ideas. He’s able to house an eccentric character in a brief, brilliant world that explodes in its brevity rather than fizzling out in lengthy, convoluted plot. The beginnings and ends don’t need to be neat and tidy; he can throw an interesting character in your face, you accept the world as a given, and you enjoy the story for what it is.

            Although each story in Welcome to the Monkey House is distinct, Vonnegut deals with similar themes. Like: the commoditization of pleasure, the ephemerality of youth, the inevitability of mortality, etc. He tinkers with the parameters of our current planet, changing the rules to explore the realities of life that haunt us the most. 

            For instance, some of his stories feature:

-A world where equality is paramount. Various handicaps are introduced to make everyone on equal footing (ex: to reduce someone’s intelligence).

-Required ethical birth control pills to combat overpopulation. They don’t take away the ability to reproduce; they take away all sexual pleasure to make the act unenticing.

-Prisoners of war subjected to a chess match for their lives. The pieces are human and taking a piece is taking a life.

-A computer that develops sentience.

            His stories make you THINK. Vonnegut is one of the most self-aware authors I’ve ever read and his uncanny ability to challenge his experiences forces you to challenge your own. My only complaint about the collection is that it lists the year published but it doesn’t name the medium. A small price to pay for a work that is such a gift to my own meandering through existence! Welcome to the Monkey House receives 5 out of 5 camel humps.

*Vonnegut, Kurt. Welcome to the Monkey House. New York: Dial Press Trade Paperbacks, 1968. Print.