Poo-tee-weet?
Written By: TMC
Posted on April 12, 2007
Kurt Vonnegut would probably never stop laughing if he saw how many tributes were written to him today, but I can’t help myself– the two people most responsible for my being a writer are, in order, my dad and Kurt Vonnegut. I know I’ll manage quite well without either of them around, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it or pretend that it doesn’t bother me.
It’s probably worth noting that when Anna Nicole Smith– a drug addicted whore with no discernible talents or usefulness– died, she became the top story on every news station for over a month, but when Vonnegut– one of the great American writers to ever live, and one of the most influential Americans of the 20th century– died, he became a footnote on the day’s news.
Take from that what you will.
A Vonnegut quote from 2004:
My last words? “Life is no way to treat an animal, not even a mouse.”
Author: TMC
Author's Website: http://sportfiction.com/Filed Under TMC, Kurt Vonnegut, Nonfictional stuff that doesn't belong here |
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What the hell does the title mean? Is it a Vonnegut thing that only your literary geeks would know?
Last page of “Slaughterhouse Five”:
“Somewhere in there, the poor old high school teacher, Edgar Denby, was caught with a teapot he had taken from the catacombs. He was arrested for plundering. He was tried an shot.
So it goes.
And somewhere in there was springtime. The corpse mines were closed down The soldiers all left to fight the Russians. In the suburbs, the women and children dug rifle pits. Billy and the rest of his group were locked up in the stable in the suburbs. And then, one morning, they got up to discover that the door was unlocked. World War Two in Europe was over.
Billy and the rest wandered out onto the shady street. The trees were leafing out. There was nothing going on out there, no traffic of any kind. There was only one vehicle, an abandoned wagon drawn by two horses. The wagon was green and coffin shaped.
Birds were talking.
One bird said to Billy Pilgrim, ‘Poo-tee-weet?’”
Word to all this. In David Eggers goofy summation of his work at Salon — self-consciously written in a Vonnegut-y style, I think, but with some self-consciousness of its own, owing to the author — I found that Gore Vidal once called him “America’s Worst Writer.” Which is kind of like a black pot calling an even darker kettle…bad simile. Anyway, I expect the guy to get less pub than Anna Nicole, owing to the smaller breasts and appetite for attention. But I think his work holds up. I know I mentioned this in my little tribute to him at CSTB, but I think of him as being a young adult writer because I read him as a young adult. But having re-read stuff recently, most notably Mother Night and Slaughterhouse, I was reminded that the guy could really do it. Almost showy in his un-showiness sometimes, but a great writer who inspired a great many other writers for the right reasons. Well put by you on all counts, too.
David,
I’ve actually had a similar experience with Vonnegut’s writing…
I went through my high school Vonnegut phase, then moved on, assuming that I was done with him and that he was just a fun lighthearted read– simplistic and straightforward.
But then in grad school, I re-read Slaughterhouse Five, and realized that I was the simplistic one. Now I’m re-reading a lot of the stuff and appreciating it on completely different levels than I did as a 15 year old, when most of my enjoyment was derived from the fact that this guy wrote about farts, cigarettes, and boobs.
Thanks for the link to the Eggers thing, by the way.