Listen: Kurt Vonnegut is my favourite author.
Perhaps “was” would be more appropriate as one of the best writers of the 20th century passed away in New York overnight and I feel like I’m mourning a close relative.
If I’m honest, and I always am, I’d say I feel like I’m mourning my spiritual father.
I know that sounds silly, but Kurt Vonnegut has been a major influence on the way I think, the way I write and just overall the person that I am today.
Kurt Vonnegut was the first author who challenged me and my ideas about what modern writing could aspire to be. He was a literary genius of the highest order and his departure from the planet is a loss for us all.
If you haven’t read any Vonnegut, then I implore you to seek out his work immediately. If I could, I would buy you all his complete collection and then come to your house personally and read all of it out loud to you!
Yes, his writing is that fucking good!
The first Vonnegut book I read was “Slaughterhouse Five” which is the story of Billy Pilgrim, a man unstuck in time. This is how it starts:
“Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.”
And he was.
The story flits around like a hummingbird on acid, bouncing between the various parts of Billy’s life, from his youth to his old age with random stops in between. OK, maybe not that random; as the book does concentrate upon two key events in Billy’s life.
Billy’s experiences as a POW in Dresden during World War II mirror the author’s; both of them spent the firebombing of Dresden hunkered down in the basement of slaughterhouse number five, hence the title. Vonnegut was deeply affected by his time as a prisoner and as you read his semi-fictional account, you will see what I mean.
The book was published in 1969 at the height of the Vietnam War. Here in 2007, at the height of the Iraq war, his words resonate even more and take on a deeper significance.
Billy also spends time as a different type of prisoner; he is the star attraction at a zoo on the planet Tralfamadore. He’s not alone as if memory serves, he is meant to mate with a female human porn star. I can’t say for sure if this also mirror’s Mr. Vonnegut’s real life, but if there was one human worthy of capture and display by an alien race, it is certainly Kurt.
I was 12 years old when I first read “Slaughterhouse Five” and it’s impact on me, even at that age, was immense. This wasn’t the sort of literature I was given to read at school, though it certainly should have been!
Actually, I did do a school report on the book, but not before my parents had to provide signed consent for me to do so. His books were considered quite controversial at the time. And I’m sad to say, that is even truer today. Vonnegut’s books are banned in many school libraries for their secular humanist overtones.
Fuck you, censors! You all suck!
Vonnegut always told the truth and he always questioned authority. He marvelled at the utter pointlessness of existence, the limitless expanse of human greed and stupidity and the bleak end that awaits us all. His writing puts all of this far more eloquently than I ever could, but I’ve felt a deep affinity for his work. I don’t think you could measure the influence he has had on me if you tried.
I was at work last night, when I heard the news. I genuinely had trouble holding back the tears. I feel like I’ve lost a member of my family, even though I’d never met the man.
That’s what good writing is like; I felt like I knew him. More than that, I’ve often felt he was my spiritual father, which I know is dumb thing to say, as well as an insult to my own (dearly departed) real father and Mr. Vonnegut’s real children. Actually, I hope his children are not offended and they welcome their spiritual stepbrother with open metaphorical arms.
I wouldn’t (pretend to) be a writer today if it weren’t for the impact Kurt Vonnegut has had on me. I hope that when you read this very blog, you can sense his presence guiding my words.
I’ll say it again, because it merits repeating: If you have not ever read anything by Kurt Vonnegut then please, I am urging you to do so as soon as you can. The man understood the human condition better than most and reading his work will make you a better person. It will free your mind; at least I think it will, because it freed mine.
I’m sorry I can’t do more justice to the man, his writing and his life, but I’m just a lowly blogger, toiling in relative obscurity. As much as I know I should leave it to his contemporaries, such as Norman Mailer and Gore Vidal, who will eulogise him in a manner more deserving, I felt I had to add my voice to the many who are mourning this true American original.
I’ll miss you, Kurt. Thank you. Thank you very much.
And so it goes. And so did he.
