Player Piano

Player Piano
by Kurt Vonnegut
(4/5 stars)

The best science fiction is the kind that still manages to be relevant even after almost 60 years. Such is the case with Vonnegut's "Player Piano," which explores our conflicted relationship with the machines we create, how they can be both liberating and dehumanizing.

The book takes place after a great war, presumably World War III, which America won by designing high-tech (at the time) thinking machines. Years later, these thinking machines handle pretty much everything from making products to running the government. This has created a sort of caste system where people are judged from a young age by certain tests. Those who pass become part of the "haves"--engineers and managers--while the rest become the "have nots" known as reek and recs.

Dr. Paul Proteus is the son of the man who first introduced the thinking machines and over time has become disillusioned with them and the caste system. When he goes across the bridge to the poor side of town he sees how the other half lives and becomes determined to quit his high-paying job and become a simple farmer. But soon Paul gets swept up into a revolution against the machines.

What I like is how Vonnegut creates this world dominated by a sort of benign fascism. In this system people aren't killed or sent to concentration camps or even forced to wear yellow stars; instead they're given modest homes and televisions so they have something to occupy them. So the greatest horror isn't storm troopers or secret police but boredom and a lack of dignity that comes from having no purpose.

The mention of things like vacuum tubes give the book a little dated feel and yet the core concept is still highly relevant. Instead of giant thinking machines using vacuum tubes we have tiny machines using microchips and robots and now 3D printing. As automation becomes more prevalent it forces more people either out of work or into menial minimum wage jobs. Barring a global catastrophe, this automation is only going to become more prevalent and more advanced until like in Vonnegut's world, we have billions of people who have been rendered obsolete and no longer serve any useful function.

In the "Star Trek" universe people turn all this automation into something good by pursuing other life goals. Sadly I tend to think Vonnegut's outlook is more realistic. But then I work in Detroit, where you can see the effects of societal change with every abandoned house and store front.

This was Vonnegut's first novel and it lacks some of the playfulness of his later books. You don't have the author's pithy "So it goes" or "Hi-Ho" or any of that. The narrative feels a little long at times, especially concerning the shah of some country visiting America. That subplot is included largely to give readers a look at America beyond upstate New York, but it really doesn't add that much. Plus it involves a lot of casual racism that was commonplace in the 50s but would create quite a stir today.

Still for a first novel it is a fascinating read I would highly recommend.

That is all.

Breakfast of Champions

Breakfast of Champions
by Kurt Vonnegut
(4/5 stars)

In modern parlance, "Breakfast of Champions" is what would be called a meta-novel. It's largely a novel about writing a novel. Though since this is Vonnegut it's not about a guy sitting at a typewriter or anything that boring. It's more like in "Star Trek: The Next Generation" when characters would go to the holodeck to interact with holographic representations of stories like Sherlock Holmes or noir detective Dixon Hill.

In this case the author is Philboyd Studge (a stand-in for Kurt Vonnegut) and the holodeck is set to Midland City, Indiana in 1972. The town is hosting a Festival of the Arts and the wealthy Eliot Rosewater (of the previous novel God Bless You Mr. Rosewater) contacts his favorite sci-fi author Kilgore Trout, featured in many other Vonnegut books. Trout is shocked anyone's actually read any of his books as his stories are mostly published in porno magazines as filler with the titles often changed. So Trout decides to go to New York City and then hitchhike to Indiana.

Meanwhile in Midland City is Dwayne Hoover, who owns a Pontiac dealership and several other businesses. By all accounts Dwayne has it pretty good, except his wife "ate" some Drano and died while his gay son works as a pianist in the Holiday Inn Hoover partially owns.

The lounge of the Holiday Inn is where Hoover and Trout are destined to meet and where Hoover is destined to lose what's left of his mind. Also in that lounge is Philboyd Studge, who has gathered his creations together to create a sort of creative Big Bang that will wipe out the old Philboyd Studge universe and create a new one.

In the preface, Studge writes about how now that he's turned 50 he wants to sort of clear the air and empty out all these old ideas and characters so that he can create new ones. Ironically though many of these same characters like Kilgore Trout appear in future novels by Vonnegut like "Deadeye Dick," "Bluebeard," and "Timequake." So if the point was to reboot the Vonnegut universe (to use modern comic book/movie slang) it didn't really succeed.

Like many Vonnegut novels, the characters are in no way realistic. Vonnegut via Trout actually takes "realistic" novels to task, claiming that we already know about real life, so why would we want fiction to duplicate that? (I agree in part with that idea. I mean, most of life is pretty boring, so why would I want that in a novel?) Like my colleague Ethan Cooper, I would agree that the characters are largely cartoonish throughout the novel. That didn't bother me too much, maybe because I watch too many cartoons on Fox and Adult Swim.

Throughout the novel Vonnegut includes silly drawing of everything from an anus to a bucket of fried chicken to the abbreviation ETC. The intent of these seems to be to serve as flashcards for a future audience where Earth no longer has apples or fried chicken, though you'd have to think they would still know what an anus looks like unless humanity has evolved beyond that point or superintelligent robots or cockroaches have taken over. Like Ethan Cooper, I found this device tiresome after a while as it didn't really seem to contribute much to the actual story.

Another thing is that this novel frequently uses the "N-word" and the depiction of most of the black characters in the book is pretty demeaning, especially the ex-con Wayne Hoobler. Though I like to think of it not as racist but as a satire to protest the economic segregation that is still largely prevalent in the 21st Century.

Overall, while the end may be a little disappointing, it is a heck of a ride to get there.

That is all.

The Sirens of Titan

A good analogy for this book is it's like one of those paintings that looks great at a distance but when you look at it up-close you can see all the brush strokes. In this case the more distant Vonnegut is from his characters the better because up close the characters come off more as cartoonish props than real people.

The story details the lives of three people who are moved by forces beyond their control. William Niles Rumsfoord set out into space with his dog and now through a strange phenomenon I won't try to spell he has become unstuck in time and space (take that Billy Pilgrim!) so that he appears on Earth at his house every 59 days. His wife Beatrice Rumsfoord wants little to do with him. Then one day Rumsfoord calls his cousin Malachi Constant for a visit. Constant is a billionaire playboy who inherited his money from his father and has done nothing with his life. Rumsfoord tells Constant that he will roam the Solar System, first to Mars, then Mercury, then back to Earth, and finally to Titan, where he will meet three beautiful women, the sirens of the title.

Well this does happen but none of it goes as Constant thought it might. Beatrice gets swept up in it as well. Meanwhile Rumsfoord seems to be pulling the strings of everyone in the Solar System but who's pulling his strings?

As I said at the start, Vonnegut is at his best in this novel when he deals with broader issues, like the history of Mars or the lives of tiny insects on Mercury. Those moments called to mind Douglas Adams and the "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" books where too the broader issues were often better than the up-close ones. The characters of Rumsfoord, Beatrice, and Constant aren't all that interesting and as I said none of them seems all that REAL. Vonnegut I don't think was interested in making real, sympathetic characters so much as in making his points about religion, Fate, and so forth.

The last 15% or so almost makes up for the book's deficiencies. Whereas Douglas Adams seemed to back away from providing the answer of life, the universe, and everything, Vonnegut tackles it head-on. Though in both cases, Earth is little more than a pawn in someone else's game; or perhaps not even a pawn; Earth might be more like a bit of dust that gets blown around when someone else moves the pieces.

I don't think this is one of Vonnegut's best, but it wasn't a waste of time either.

As a special note, I noticed quite a few typographical errors in this edition. In part I think it might be from digitizing this to the Kindle. Or perhaps not. It was a little distracting at times.

That is all.

God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater

God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater

By Kurt Vonnegut

(3/5 stars)

This is the fifth Vonnegut novel I've read in about as many months. I enjoyed "Timequake" and loved "Slaughterhouse Five" and "Bluebeard." But the last two I've read just weren't as good. I read "Cat's Cradle" and thought overall it was weird, not in the wacky fun-loving way of a Willy Wonka, more like the creepy way of that guy who sits in a van outside playgrounds. But then I had a head cold so maybe I wasn't prepared to appreciate the subtleties. As for "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater" I just found it to be completely unpleasant and perhaps in this case it was because the novel was telling me things I knew but didn't really want to hear about. The truth hurts.

The book deals with the Rosewater family, in particular two branches of the family. One group is based out of Indiana, but they don't really live there. The father is a senator who visits the county named for his ancestors a couple times a year, which is not unlike most politicians, some of whom (a certain senator representing New York) have even less connection with the territories they represent. Thanks to shrewd dealings in the Civil War by his ancestors, the senator has plenty of money. To keep the government he ostensibly works for from touching the fortune, the senator's lawyers drew up a foundation. The senator's son Eliot comes to be the head of this foundation and he (gasp!) actually tries to use the money to help people! He moves to Rosewater County, where he dedicates himself to helping people by giving them money, medicine, and an ear to talk to while also fighting fires as a lieutenant of the Volunteer Fire Department. In the process of all this good, Eliot drives himself and his wife crazy.

Meanwhile, a greedy young lawyer locates the other branch of the Rosewater family in Rhode Island. In particular, he finds Fred Rosewater, a miserable life insurance salesman with a wife who hangs out with a rich lesbian to lap up some of the golden crumbs. The lawyer concocts a grand scheme to declare Eliot insane so he can get the foundation's money and snap up a few golden crumbs of his own.

What makes this book so depressing is that the only admirable human in the book is also the one accused of being insane. And while he is performing a lot of charitable deeds for the people of Rosewater County, he does it more out of guilt than anything and sees most of the people he helps as a nuisance. The poor people of Rosewater County and Rhode Island are all described as lazy, stupid, and useless. The rich people are also lazy, stupid, and useless, but at least they have the money to dress and smell nice.

So I think you can see what I mean about this being a real downer to read. While I understand much of what the author is saying is true--a lot of people are lazy, stupid, and useless, including Yours Truly--it's not exactly the kind of message I want to hear. As I said, the truth hurts. Maybe if you're secure enough to think you aren't lazy, stupid, and useless then you'll enjoy the book far more than I did.

That is all.

Bluebeard

Bluebeard
by Kurt Vonnegut
(5/5 stars)

Someone I know said "Bluebeard" was the Vonnegut YOU (and by YOU he meant everyone) didn't like. He couldn't have been more wrong. A lot of people say a book really spoke to them, mostly so they can sound smart, but this is one of those rare occasions where I can truly say this book spoke to me. Though it was written over twenty years ago it felt like it was written for me right this moment. (I've mentioned before in other reviews how important timing is in these things. See "On the Road" and "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.")

Bluebeard is the story of Rabo Karabekian and it follows the nonlinear storytelling found in other Vonnegut novels like his classic "Slaughterhouse Five." Starting in the present of 1987, Rabo is an old man on Long Island who lives alone in a mansion after his wife died. A younger widow named Circe Berman (who writes controversial young adult books under the handle Polly Madison) appears on Rabo's private beach one day and soon takes up residence in Rabo's house. She convinces him to write his autobiography.

His autobiography begins in California in the late '20s. The son of Turkish Armenians who fled the slaughter of their village, Rabo trains to be a cobbler like his father but discovers he has a talent for drawing. His mother convinces him to write to a famous Russian Armenian named Dan Gregory who's become a famous artist known for his realistic illustrations. (His popularity at that time make him kind of similar to Norman Rockwell, except he's a jerk. Maybe Rockwell was a jerk too. I have no idea.) Gregory's wife Marilee takes notice of Rabo's talent and eventually brings him to Gregory's home in New York. Rabo rides out the Depression under Gregory's mean-spirited teachings, falling in love with Marilee and "Modern Art" (Picasso and his ilk) at the same time.

In time Rabo becomes a lesser-known member of the modern art movement in the '40s and '50s, hanging out with Jackson Pollack and Terry Kitchen and other well-known people who invariably commit suicide. Worse yet, many of Rabo's paintings are destroyed by a very shoddy product so that he seems doomed to be completely forgotten. That is except for a very special item in his former studio, a potato barn on the grounds of his mansion.

For me, as something approximating an artist of the written word, much of Rabo's problems were similar to ones I've faced. I'm certain many artists whether they work with a canvas or clay or marble or paper or words or what have you have felt the frustration and despair at the world failing to take notice of our "gift." But the lesson for any artistic type I gleaned from Rabo's story follows the adage of "Do what you love." Or the more accurate way to put it might be to say, "Do what you care about for the people you care about."

That said, I think this is a great book to read if you're an artist of any sort. If you're not, then you'll probably still be entertained by Vonnegut's witty prose, but you won't get as much out of the reading. You're probably the YOU the person I knew was thinking about.

That is all.

Slaughterhouse Five

Slaughterhouse Five

by Kurt Vonnegut

(5/5 stars)

There are two words to describe this book: weird and wonderful. You could substitute "quirky" for weird if you want, because that's what "Slaughterhouse Five" is: a very quirky, oddball adventure through time and space. And it contains a valuable message if you decide to believe in the Tralfamadore view of things. I rather like their perspective that because someone was alive at some point then they are ALWAYS living, at least somewhere. (Though I suppose it's only comforting when you apply that to good people, because that definition also means that Hitler and other evildoers are always living somewhere too.)

The novel begins with the author struggling to find a way to tell the story of his experience in World War II as a prisoner of war and witness to the firebombing of Dresden, which took more lives (at least immediately) than the atomic bomb. He visits a friend and finally turns in a jumbled-up mess to the publisher.

This jumbled-up mess is the story of Billy Pilgrim who is (or thinks he is) unstuck in time. Because of this, his life is in shuffle mode, so to speak, where he randomly shifts from one point in time to another. At one point he might be standing in a field in Germany during the war, at another he's talking to the Lions club in upstate New York, and at another he's a baby in his mother's arms. Told chronologically, Billy enters the war near the end, gets captured, witnesses the bombing of Dresden, gets repatriated after the war, marries a large, rich woman named Valencia, has a couple kids, runs a successful optometry business, and gets taken to the Tralfamadore homeworld to be put in a zoo with a porn star. Billy even sees how he is going to die.

If the book were related chronologically and if Vonnegut didn't have such a way with language--his sentences lack poetic prose, but have the same quirky, seemingly random rhythm as the plot--then this book wouldn't have been nearly as interesting. The way it's jumbled up forces the reader to keep putting the pieces together, although Vonnegut has a tendency to over-foreshadow some things like the teapot incident. And the style makes reading a breeze because it's very relatable for the average vocabulary--no big words to confuse people.

The only real flaw is the overuse of the expression "so it goes" to mark anytime a person, place, or thing dies. Wikipedia's article on the book says there are 106 references. It seemed like many more. I understand what Vonnegut was going for, but it did get irritating before long.

I should warn you, though, that even if the sentences are easy to read, you do need to be the type of reader who can put up with the quirky nature of the book to read it. So it's not recommended to everyone. If you're up to putting together a puzzle and like a little sci-fi with your literature, then you'll be fine. Maybe you won't agree with Vonnegut and the Tralfamadore's view of the universe--maybe you like to believe in free will--but you should still be able to appreciate what a creative feat this book was and what a great author wrote it.

That is all.

Timequake

Timequake
by Kurt Vonnegut




Don't be fooled by the "plot" descriptions of a "timequake" making everyone have to do the same things over again from the last ten years. That makes up possibly 1% of the this novel. Another 50% is dedicated to Vonnegut's memoirs with the balance being dedicated to the life and stories of the fictional Kilgore Trout.

What this book ends up being is one of those rambling yarns Abe Simpson might spin that starts, "Back in my day..." There's no cohesive narrative in the slightest and you know what, that's OK by me. I've never read any Vonnegut except a short story back in high school (I hated that story, BTW) so maybe this wasn't the place to start, or maybe it was a great place to get a little background--if you believe anything Vonnegut tells you. After reading I'm a little dubious about what is fact and what is fiction, but now I'm rambling.

The simple truth is that Vonnegut's writing is so smooth and so funny that the lack of cohesive narrative or characters or any of that jazz one excepts from a book in the "Fiction" section isn't all that disconcerting. There are some great insights into life, history, science, and writing that are worth reading even if they aren't "true" as in actually having happened they're true in spirit and that's what's important. More to the point, this book is so short that I breezed through it in about 5 hours.

So if you're going on a trip, why not take along something that will make you think instead of another crime story or romance novel or Hollywood gossip rag? You'll be better off for it.

On a side note, it was eerie reading this a few months after the author passed away. (I trust I don't need to include a spoiler warning for that.) Vonnegut makes several references to his death--and those of various relatives and acquaintances. Most disturbing was he predicted he would still be alive in 2010. He ended up a little short from that mark, but in the meantime he accomplished far more than most of us.

That is all.