Vonnegut affects life of editor

By Kylie Jane Wakefield
Collegian Editor
April 18, 2007

This week, one of the greatest writers in American history passed away at the age of 84. Kurt Vonnegut, author and literary genius, died on April 11 due to “irreversible brain injuries as a result of a fall,” according to the New York Times.

Vonnegut, who emerged in the 1950s as a novelist drew most of his inspiration from his World War II experiences. The author was among six other American soldiers who had survived the devastating bombing of Dresden, Germany in February 1945. He dealt with the horrifying incident of coming face-to-face with Nazis and brutal death by turning his shock into works of art.

In 1969, the time-travel epic Slaughter-House Five, or The Children’s Crusade, was published, which is recognized as one of the best novels ever written, according to Time. Vonnegut typically combined humor with outlandish situations to convey deeper meanings, which is why most say his work is so affecting. Like his friend and fellow war veteran Joseph Heller, author of Catch-22, he preferred to place darker subjects in lighter forms, because it would make the message more lasting.

Among his other notable works are Mother Night (1961), Cat’s Cradle (1963) and Breakfast of Champions (1973). Later in his career, he wrote plays, nonfiction stories and short essays.

At the age of 15, I was first introduced to the writing of Vonnegut, sort of. I read Venus on the Half-Shell by a man named Kilgore Trout. The book, which is a radical science fiction tale about a man’s journey through space, is as weird as it is fascinating. Recently, I discovered that it was actually written by a science-fiction novelist named Philip Jose Farmer, and that Vonnegut didn’t think too highly of Farmer for publishing it under the name Kilgore Trout.

Next, I read Breakfast of Champions, in which I was formally introduced to the character of Trout, a recurring figure in Vonnegut’s stories. He is one of the best characters ever invented in literature, and the zany situations Vonnegut often put him in made Trout that much greater.

After Breakfast of Champions, I quickly become enraptured by Vonnegut’s novels, reading many of them over a very short period of time. I became involved with these stories, and loved the characters for the way they reacted to the bizarre circumstances Vonnegut created for them.

The reason why I can’t get enough Vonnegut is that he manages to be amazingly humorous while discussing very serious issues. He had the strength to not give up on himself following the traumatic Dresden bombings and countless other issues, and instead, channeled his anger and melancholy into forms of brilliant artistic expression. If I can laugh out loud at a story about World War II, the author must have talent.

Although I was confused at first by Vonnegut and some of his ramblings, I eventually learned to adore his writing. As someone who never really liked science fiction or war stories, Vonnegut made me like them. His philosophies and existential dilemmas that often appeared in his novels were crucial to how I grew as a lover of literature.

Vonnegut the literary figure was as likable as Vonnegut the person. In a Rolling Stone article published in August 2006, he talked about his disdain for the Bush Administration and his plan to sue the Brown & Williamson Tobacco Company. Vonnegut claimed that he had been smoking Pall Malls since a very young age and they had not yet killed him: “I’m 83-years-old. The lying bastards! On the package, Brown & Williamson promised to kill me. Instead, their cigarettes didn’t work. Now I’m forced to suffer leaders with names like Bush and Dick and, up until recently, ‘Colon.’’’

As a classic tribute to Vonnegut, I could quote him and reflect upon his death by claiming his philosophy, “so it goes.” But I won’t do that. Vonnegut deserves much more memorable words as a tribute instead of “so it goes.”

For Vonnegut, I say, listen: “Poo-tee-weet? Poo-tee-weet?” And that’s that.

wakefieldk1@lasalle.edu