I finished Timequake by Kurt Vonnegut the other day, probably the first time I have finished a book by him. I think there was a time I picked up Slaughterhouse Five in the previous century but I'm not sure if I finished it. If I did, it left no lasting impact on me - which, speaks more to my maturity in the previous century than any thing Vonnegut did or did not do with his masterpiece. I enjoyed Timequake very much. I gave it a four-star on my goodreads account. I loved the cynicism and the style. I think it played a part in my short-story entitled The Trade, at least in the tone of the story. I didn't mean to copy his style but it definitely bled through my subconscious. But that is neither here nor there. These are some of the things I really liked about the book:
"Hooray for fireman!
Scum of the Earth as some may be in their daily lives, they can all be saints in emergencies.
Hooray for fireman" (Vonnegut, 7).
First, of this sentence is funny. Second, it points out the fact that as horrible as people can be, they have the capacity to be good, and even better than good.
"People so smart you can't believe it, and people so dumb you can't believe it. People so nice you can't believe it, and people so mean you can't believe it" (Vonnegut, 14). I just really liked the double emphasis in this passage.
"He commented unfavorably on the camouflage suits our own generals wear nowadays on TV, when they describe blasting the bejesus out of some Third World country because of petroleum. 'I can't imagine,' he said, 'any part of the world where such garish pajamas would make a soldier less rather than more visible. We are evidently preparing.' he said, 'to fight World War Three in the midst of an enormous Spanish omelet" (Vonnegut, 27). That's just hysterical to me. Subversive, cynical and distrustful of the government, but hysterical.
This is a long passage, but it's a good one: "'God created the heaven and the earth,' the old, long out-of-print science fiction writer went on. 'And the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. Satan could have done this herself, but she thought it was stupid, action for the sake of action. What was the point? She didn't say anything at first. But Satan began to worry about God when He said, let there be light and there was light. She had to wonder, What in the heck does he think he's doing? How far does he intend to go, and does he expect me to help him take care of all this crazy stuff? And then the shit really hit the fan. God made man and woman, beautiful little miniatures of Him and her and turned them loose to see what might become of them. The Garden of Eden' said Trout, 'might be considered the prototype for the Colosseum and the Roman Games'" (Vonnegut, 29). A fascinating retelling of the Genesis account.
Chapter 14 might be my favorite chapter in the whole book. I won't quote the whole thing, but Trout's explanation of 'ting-a-ling' is hysterical and sad all at once. "It was nothing but a dirty joke, but this poor, sick man had come to believe it a parable about the awful blows that life had dealt him" (Vonnegut, 58). Ting-a-ling indeed.
"Science never cheered up anyone. The truth about the human situation is just too awful" (Vonnegut, 121). Vonnegut, being a humanist recognizes some of the flaws that a purely naturalistic viewpoint has. He presents it in his gallows humor type of way, but he recognizes the flaws. The problem here is his pride. His pride in himself and his pride in the humans who can achieve happiness without religion. Somewhere else in the book he praises his ex-wife who died without losing faith. He seems genuinely happy about that. I'm not sure if he was mocking her or not. It felt a bit more sincere. But, earlier on this page he lets his feelings be known about religion by relating a story about Isaac Newton. "That Newton was advised by those who were his nominal supervisors to take time out of the hard truths of science to brush up on theology. I like to think they did this not because they were foolish, but to remind him of how comforting and encouraging the make-believe of religion can be for common folk" (Vonnegut, 121). First, I reject out of hand the false dichotomy set up between religion and science. Second, I find this sad. Lastly, I sense a bit of elitism from Vonnegut when dealing with the common folk who still hold religious sentiments. I disagree with his philosophy of religion.
While I disagree with Vonnegut on his philosophy of religion, I found myself nodding my head to his amusing and simplified aesthetic theory. "I was pleased to reply with an epistle which was frankly vengeful, since he and Father had screwed me out of a liberal arts college education: 'Dear Brother: This is almost like telling you about the birds and the bees,' I began. 'There are many good people who are beneficially stimulated by some, but not all, manmade arrangements of colors and shapes on flat surfaces, essentially nonsense. You yourself are gratified by some music, arrangements of noises, and again essentially nonsense. If I were to kick a bucket down the cellar stairs, and then say to you that the racket I had made was philosophically on a par with The Magic Flute, this would not be the beginning of a long and upsetting debate. An utterly satisfactory and complete response on your part would be, 'I like what Mozart did, and I hate what the bucket did'. Contemplating a purported work of art is a social activity. Either you have a rewarding time, or you don't. You don't have to say why afterward. You don't have to say anything. You are a justly revered experimentalist, dear Brother. If you really want to know whether your pictures are, as you say, 'art or not,' you must display them in a public place somewhere, and see if strangers like to look at them. That is the way the game is played. Let me know what happens. I went on: 'People capable of liking some paintings or prints or whatever can rarely do so without knowing something about the artist. Again, the situation is social rather than scientific. Any work of art is half of a conversation between two human beings, and it helps a lot to know who is talking at you. Does he or she have a reputation for seriousness, for religiosity, for suffering, for concupiscence, for rebellion, for sincerity, for jokes?" (Vonnegut, 167-168). Art as a conversation between two or more people. A simplified definition of what art is. I can dig it.
Overall, I loved this book. I can't wait to pick up another Vonnegut book in the near future.
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