Vonnegut, Vonnegut, Vonnegut. Vonnegut.
I don’t know how to write about this, because I don’t know how it works. Kurt Vonnegut’s writing is successful in its complete disregard for traditional narrative. The whole idea is that Dr. Kevorkian gave Vonnegut near death experiences, which he used to go to heaven and interview the people there (Hitler, Asimov, and of course Kilgore Trout). His interview with Shakespeare made me laugh so hard I dropped the book and scared the cat.
Kurt Vonnegut makes me want to be a better writer. The idea that you can just write whatever you want (really, at this point, that’s what he was doing) is appealing. I want so badly to understand how this book works. I want so badly to have some good doctor give me a near death experience so that I can go to wherever I’ll go and shake Kurt Vonnegut’s hand, and tell him all his books have meant to me. But this is fiction, and heaven probably isn’t a place. For now, I’m going to read another book, because there’s time yet.
Books read: 33