Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut was one of my literary heroes as a youth. He was probably my first favorite writer (not counting Matt Christopher); my earliest independent reading consisting mainly of paperbacks of books associated with movies (Jaws, Deliverance, The Exorcist, The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 etc.) that I picked up at the local drugstore. I'm pretty sure the first book of his I read was the short story collection, Welcome to the Monkey House (I think the freaky artwork on the cover convinced me into giving him a try). "Harrison Bergeron" was the story that hooked me (I can still remember pressing it on my brother, "You've got to read this!"). From that moment on, I set about reading all of his books (Player Piano being the only one I never got around to; I think I read that Vonnegut himself didn't think it was that good). I read everything else up to Breakfast of Champions, his latest book at the time (Cat's Cradle, Slaughterhouse-Five, The Sirens of Titan, and Breakfast of Champions being my favorites). I was disappointed by his next two books, Slapstick and Jailbird (I was such a big fan at that point that I actually bought the hardcover versions!). They suffered from a creeping cutesiness, I thought. When I went to college and discovered other writers, my infatuation pretty much came to an end. And if I didn't read any of his later books, I always considered him an old friend and would read reviews or interviews just to find out what he was up to lately (I recently spent a lunch hour at B & N reading and being entertained by a couple of essays in A Man Without a Country). Last night, saddened by the news of his death (of course, in the world of television, he only rated a few seconds at the end of Nightline), I picked up Hocus Pocus to read before bed (it was one of his later books that I had heard good things about, but never got around to reading). I ended up reading three chapters and staying up much later than usual. The Vonnegut voice was unmistakable: cranky, funny, sad and amused by the randomness and cruelty of human affairs. I think I may have some catching up to do with my old friend.