Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

Source of book: I own this.

 

….So it goes…

 

Slaughterhouse-Five was our book club’s selection for this month. We more often pick newer books than classics, but this was the rare exception. For some reason or another, I have never read a Vonnegut novel before. I vaguely think I ran across a short story or essay way back in the day, but never really read anything else. I am not entirely sure why, either, because he seems like he was a witty, thoughtful, and countercultural sort, and I don’t remember having any negative feelings about him. I enjoyed this book, and intend to read others. And so it goes…

 

Speaking of that line, “And so it goes” is repeated 106 times in the book - one of our members counted. Most of the time, it is after someone dies or something horrid happens. Except for the few times it was for something good, like the protagonist marrying the rich girl he isn’t in love with. 

 

I guess I should back up and explain the book a bit. Slaughterhouse-Five is (along with Catch-22) one of the two significant anti-war novels written about World War Two. (Although both are really a critique of the Vietnam War more than anything, according to their authors.) Vonnegut served in WWII, was captured, imprisoned in the titular slaughterhouse, witnessed the firebombing of Dresden, and suffered from PTSD as a result of his experiences. (Not diagnosed, but he describes it so well in his books, particularly this one.) Vonnegut became opposed to war, and disillusioned with American politics, which he saw as covering up the deeper war between the wealthy “winners” and everyone else, who were “losers” in the system. He lamented that socialism had become off limits in American politics. (As it is today, even as “socialism” in the sense of social democracy, which is very different.) 

 

The central character in this book is Billy Pilgrim, a chaplain’s assistant who becomes a POW. Later in life, he marries a rich (but unattractive) woman, which leads to his wealth and successful career as an optometrist. He is the sole survivor of a plane crash, his wife accidentally gives herself carbon-monoxide poisoning and dies, and...oh yeah, he is kidnapped by aliens and spends time as an exhibit in a zoo on another planet. 

 

Whether the alien kidnapping ever occurred has been a subject of much debate, including in our book club. One could certainly read it as a true event, of course. The Tralfamadorians are in various of Vonnegut’s works, he wrote plenty of science fiction, and the narrative is consistent. 

 

However, one could also read the story as one of PTSD and irrational beliefs as a means of self-protection and an attempt to make sense of one’s trauma. As one member of our club pointed out, every part of the alien episode has a connection to a real-life incident in Pilgrim’s life. His companion in the zoo is a porn star that he ran across in a picture in an adult bookstore, for example. Everything connected to the aliens has its root in his “real” life, including his “foreseeing” his death at the hands of the crazy fellow POW who said he would kill him someday in the future. 

 

The narrative itself is disjointed, out of sequence, and loops back and forth and around an changes as it unfolds. As a couple members of our group who have had family members with some combination of PTSD or dementia or brain damage noted, the book very much reads like the experience of talking to someone with that kind of damage. At first, I found it irritating, but as it went on, things became clearer, and at the end, I was impressed by the craft involved in creating that kind of a mental journey. 

 

I should also mention that the book was intentionally written to trigger the sorts that want to ban or challenge books. From the kind of icky sex scene between Pilgrim and his wife, to the then-shocking acknowledgement that the Nazis tried to exterminate LGBTQ people to the gratuitous line drawing of boobs, it is clear Vonnegut was trolling. And he is so good at it. Personally, living in the 21st Century, the stuff that got Vonnegut in trouble in 1969 seems a bit tame, but he lived in the transition in the law regarding obscenity, and genuinely took a risk. 

 

Another structural oddity is that the first chapter reads like an author’s preface, with the author inserting himself in the story with “I was there.” And yet, because it is labeled as a chapter, it also serves as a framing story as well as what could be the opinions of either the author or of a character. I do not believe I have ever seen that particular technique used like that before. There is an interesting aside in the chapter that I noted. 

 

I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee. 

I have also told them not to work for companies which make massacre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that. 

 

That’s a pretty succinct summary of Vonnegut’s view of war. Another moment explains his belief that soldiers mostly exist to serve the powerful and inexorable forces in society.

 

There are almost no characters in this story, and almost no dramatic confrontations, because most of the people in it are so sick and so much the listless playthings of enormous forces. One of the main effects of war, after all, is that people are discouraged from being characters.

 

Vonnegut is also pessimistic about America and American culture. Looking at things over a half century later, I think he was on to a few things about us. For example, his description of Billy Pilgrim’s mother, who substituted as an organist at various churches, but never committed to one - she wanted one that she felt was “right.”

 

She never did decide. She did develop a terrific hankering for a crucifix, though. And she bought one from a Santa Fe gift shop during a trip the little family made out West during the Great Depression. Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops. 

 

Another observation in one of the more absurdist passages involves an acquaintance of Billy’s, who marries a high school dropout working as a go-go girl. 

 

He didn’t know that she couldn’t read much. He knew very little about her, except that she was one more public demonstration that he was a superman.

 

I have seen plenty of similar cases, where a man marries a woman who makes him feel smart, or strong, or wealthy, or whatever. Often the marriages end up breaking up, of course, because humans usually don’t like being used to make others feel better about themselves..

 

I was also haunted by a particular description by Billy of the effect of his PTSD. He is unexpectedly upset by a song, and his wife realizes he is not okay. 

 

“Really-I’m O.K.” And he was, too, except that he could find no explanation for why the song had affected him so grotesquely. He had supposed for years that he had no secrets from himself. Here was proof that he had a great big secret somewhere inside, and he could not imagine what it was.

 

There are a few other things that I found interesting. Vonnegut loves to employ black humor, and he indeed is a master of making the most horrible things sound funny, and the funniest things horrible. So it goes. 

 

Apparently, the character of Kilgore Trout in the book is a recurring one throughout his books - and is a poisonous jab at his real-life rival Theodore Sturgeon. Likewise, the Tralfamadorians pop up in various books, along with their view of time as non-linear. 

 

Speaking of that, the idea that time is non-linear has been explored both seriously by physicists and philosophically by, well, philosophers as well as science fiction authors. And, for that matter, theologians wrestling with how time appears to an eternal divine being. For the Tralfamadorians, they are able to experience all of life at once, as a collage of “moments,” rather than a linear progression. This leads them to focus on the good moments that are occurring rather than the bad ones. Pilgrim still lives life as a human, and thus cannot see all at once, but he is able to randomly travel between moments, and having experienced everything, tries to focus on the good ones. But, as the book’s narrative reveals, he isn’t successful, but keeps finding himself back in the horrible moments. (This is a good argument in favor of the time travel being PTSD, not literal.) 

 

We had a fascinating discussion about the meaning in the book of the fatalist viewpoint. The Tralfamadorians laugh at humans for believing in free will. Pilgrim embraces this fatalist viewpoint as well. Does Vonnegut? It is hard to say. And what is this viewpoint? Some felt it was “radical acceptance,” others “apathy,” others “fatalism,” - and all of those are defensible views. Perhaps one sign of Vonnegut’s genius is that he doesn’t impose a particular interpretation. 

 

I am sure I am missing a bunch of things I meant to say. We had a solid two hours of discussion about this book. A number had read it before, and found it deeper this time around. Others had avoided it because of the title. I also got plenty of suggestions for other Vonnegut novels to try in the future. 

 

I am glad I got to fill in this missing piece in my education. The chance to discuss it with thoughtful and enthusiastic friends made it that much better. 

 

***

 

Just for fun, here is the list of books that our book club has read. At least the ones I have read too. Most of these were read for the club, but a few were ones I read previously - those posts pre-date the club discussion - and some I read afterward, because I missed the discussion. A few of the books were “optional” second books for a given month.

 

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

Exhalation by Ted Chiang

Broad Band by Claire Evans

Ghost Story by Peter Straub

Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich

Forest of a Thousand Lanterns by Julie Dao

Deacon King Kong by James McBride

Space Opera by Catherynne M. Valente

Bad News by Edward St. Aubyn

Circe by Madeline Miller

Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Calypso by David Sedaris

The Air You Breathe by Frances de Pontes Peebles

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

There There by Tommy Orange

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Be Frank With Me by Julia Claiborne Johnson

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Educated by Tara Westover

Stiff by Mary Roach

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

The Marsh King’s Daughter by Karen Dionne

Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin

Never Mind by Edward St. Aubyn

All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders

Artemis by Andy Weir

Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov 

The Radium Girls by Kate Moore