A Moment of Silence . . .
. . . for the late, great Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
Readers will quibble over whether he was a great writer or a merely good one (I'm sure some cad will insist he sucked, which is fine; I've never liked Hemingway, so I have to assume that there are no universally applicable, fully objective standards). Others will debate their favorite works (I'm partial to Slaughterhouse 5, which, IMO, beats the pants of of Heller's Catch-22 for surreal war satires; but in the end, my REAL favorite is God Bless You Mr. Rosewater [although Venus On the Half Shell, a book supposedly written by Vonnegut character Kilgore Trout, which I've never been able to verify as being written by ANYONE, but which sits on my bookshelf and has a vaguely Vonnegut flavor about it, is an apocryphal contender]).
Anyway, R.I.P., you cranky old bastard. 84 ain't a bad time for an artist to go, especially one who saw some of the shit you did.
ADDENDUM: Turns out that Venus on the Half Shell was written by Philip Jose Farmer with Vonnegut's permission; Vonnegut was apparently unamused. Nonetheless, it's a funny bit of satire, and I've interests in adapting it--in whole or in part--for . . . well, whatever medium seems to absorb it.
I still maintain that it has a Vonnegut flavor about it, and I think it's interesting that it actually predates The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which it does very much resemble (though it's infinitely more American).
Readers will quibble over whether he was a great writer or a merely good one (I'm sure some cad will insist he sucked, which is fine; I've never liked Hemingway, so I have to assume that there are no universally applicable, fully objective standards). Others will debate their favorite works (I'm partial to Slaughterhouse 5, which, IMO, beats the pants of of Heller's Catch-22 for surreal war satires; but in the end, my REAL favorite is God Bless You Mr. Rosewater [although Venus On the Half Shell, a book supposedly written by Vonnegut character Kilgore Trout, which I've never been able to verify as being written by ANYONE, but which sits on my bookshelf and has a vaguely Vonnegut flavor about it, is an apocryphal contender]).
Anyway, R.I.P., you cranky old bastard. 84 ain't a bad time for an artist to go, especially one who saw some of the shit you did.
ADDENDUM: Turns out that Venus on the Half Shell was written by Philip Jose Farmer with Vonnegut's permission; Vonnegut was apparently unamused. Nonetheless, it's a funny bit of satire, and I've interests in adapting it--in whole or in part--for . . . well, whatever medium seems to absorb it.
I still maintain that it has a Vonnegut flavor about it, and I think it's interesting that it actually predates The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which it does very much resemble (though it's infinitely more American).
Labels: existential hoo-ha, literature, R.I.P.
posted by thelyamhound at 10:49 AM
5 Comments:
Where's that new post you were promising?
Out. Of. Control.
Ok -- I am back to posting faster than you are -- that means I am ALSO back to reading -- STINE gave me stuff to read :)
Love you guys -- thinking of you in this so strange yet so compelling of a place . . . .
OY!
Damnit, am I going to have to start bribing you with lack of sex if you don't friggin post again? (It COULD happen)
Geesh....
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