Thursday, April 12, 2007
God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut
Listen:
You know how sometimes you'll get into a conversation with someone and they'll ask you something like "What's your favorite movie?" and you don't want to sound stupid so you say something safe like Citizen Kane or something popular like The Godfather or something more obscure like The Rules of the Game ? Of course you do. It happens to us all.
That's what life is all about.
Well, for me, as a bibliophile, I have a tough time ranking books. I've read lots of books. Not as many as you, but still a bunch. And because I'm in graduate school, I'm sure that one day the conversation will come up as I sit in a bar with a bunch of aspiring historians, engineers, and literary critics and someone will ask me "What your favorite American novel?"
And a part of me will hate that person. Even if it's you.
Because I shouldn't have to choose one. One book shouldn't define a person's whole life. It's glib and condescending to even ask the question.
But that doesn't mean I won't answer it.
I'll probably say something like All the King's Men or, if I'm feeling a little less like explaining myself, The Great Gatsby. Both really great books. I can defend either one. The former answer may even be true.
However, it may also be false.
Because there were other times and other books, and as I look back I can see how my favorites changed over time. And there was a year or so in the middle of high school, a good year or so, where my favorite writer was Kurt Vonnegut.
I've been told it happens to most teenagers who like to read.
Doesn't mean I feel guilty about it. I spun through Cat's Cradle. I ate up Breakfast of Champions. I thrilled to The Sirens of Titan. And I loved it. I even had the chance to portray Harrison Bergeron in a high school one act. (Yes, I think I was miscast too.)
No one was more effective at combining satirical prose, political satire, and emotional pathos then Kurt Vonnegut.
Which is why I was so saddened to read of his loss late last night.
I know it had to happen. And it's not like I'm a friend or family member. He didn't know me and in all likelihood, he probably didn't know you either. But in a way we knew him and knew him well, and it's sad when a friend dies. It's not fair, but neither is life.
I'm sure Kilgore Trout would agree with me.
And so does the bird outside my window.
Poo-tee-weet!
The most important thing I learned on Tralfamadore was that when a person dies he only appears to die. He is still very much alive in the past, so it is very silly for people to cry at his funeral. All moments, past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist. The Tralfamadorians can look at all the different moments just that way we can look at a stretch of the Rocky Mountains, for instance. They can see how permanent all the moments are, and they can look at any moment that interests them. It is just an illusion we have here on Earth that one moment follows another one, like beads on a string, and that once a moment is gone it is gone forever. -Slaughterhouse Five
R.I.P.
Kurt Vonnegut, 1922-2007
So it goes...
Listen:
You know how sometimes you'll get into a conversation with someone and they'll ask you something like "What's your favorite movie?" and you don't want to sound stupid so you say something safe like Citizen Kane or something popular like The Godfather or something more obscure like The Rules of the Game ? Of course you do. It happens to us all.
That's what life is all about.
Well, for me, as a bibliophile, I have a tough time ranking books. I've read lots of books. Not as many as you, but still a bunch. And because I'm in graduate school, I'm sure that one day the conversation will come up as I sit in a bar with a bunch of aspiring historians, engineers, and literary critics and someone will ask me "What your favorite American novel?"
And a part of me will hate that person. Even if it's you.
Because I shouldn't have to choose one. One book shouldn't define a person's whole life. It's glib and condescending to even ask the question.
But that doesn't mean I won't answer it.
I'll probably say something like All the King's Men or, if I'm feeling a little less like explaining myself, The Great Gatsby. Both really great books. I can defend either one. The former answer may even be true.
However, it may also be false.
Because there were other times and other books, and as I look back I can see how my favorites changed over time. And there was a year or so in the middle of high school, a good year or so, where my favorite writer was Kurt Vonnegut.
I've been told it happens to most teenagers who like to read.
Doesn't mean I feel guilty about it. I spun through Cat's Cradle. I ate up Breakfast of Champions. I thrilled to The Sirens of Titan. And I loved it. I even had the chance to portray Harrison Bergeron in a high school one act. (Yes, I think I was miscast too.)
No one was more effective at combining satirical prose, political satire, and emotional pathos then Kurt Vonnegut.
Which is why I was so saddened to read of his loss late last night.
I know it had to happen. And it's not like I'm a friend or family member. He didn't know me and in all likelihood, he probably didn't know you either. But in a way we knew him and knew him well, and it's sad when a friend dies. It's not fair, but neither is life.
I'm sure Kilgore Trout would agree with me.
And so does the bird outside my window.
Poo-tee-weet!
The most important thing I learned on Tralfamadore was that when a person dies he only appears to die. He is still very much alive in the past, so it is very silly for people to cry at his funeral. All moments, past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist. The Tralfamadorians can look at all the different moments just that way we can look at a stretch of the Rocky Mountains, for instance. They can see how permanent all the moments are, and they can look at any moment that interests them. It is just an illusion we have here on Earth that one moment follows another one, like beads on a string, and that once a moment is gone it is gone forever. -Slaughterhouse FiveR.I.P.
Kurt Vonnegut, 1922-2007
So it goes...
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