Post by rich on Apr 12, 2007 14:20:34 GMT -5
When I heard this on NPR this morning (as I couldn't listen to The Attack Machine) on the way to work, I was absolutely blindsided.
You often hear people describe something as "jaw-dropping", but very few times does one really experience this phenomenon. Hearing this news on the radio today was such a moment for me ... by the time the report was finished, it dawned on me that I had slowed my car down to a crawl and that my jaw had quite literally been hanging open since the announcer first opened his mouth. I'm not ashamed to say I was a little misted up. I'm not one usually to wax emotional over the death of someone I didn't know personally ... over some random celebrity or whatever. This is different.
I have to say, Kurt Vonnegut has always been one of my heroes. And that's saying something, considering my postmodern, skeptical, cynical disposition doesn't allow me to actually admire many people, much less beatify them in my own mind.
This man was, to me, something special. When asked in an interview at the beginning of a year-long leadership class what person or persons, living, dead or imaginary, would I choose to have a discussion with over dinner (and what a f***ing Barbara Walters question), my answer was Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
One of the proudest and most exciting moments in my educational career involved Vonnegut. It happened in the hall of the English building at U of Montevallo, where I was discussing favorite authors with a grad school professor with whom I had something of a love/hate relationship ... more of a friendly professional rivalry perhaps, but no matter. I asked him what he thought of Vonnegut and he stated "Vonnegut's a nihilist. I don't like him." I was apoplectic. I told him that Vonnegut was in no way a nihilist, as his stock in trade was satire ... and if he had mistaken Vonnegut's pessimistic bent for nihilism then he was way offbase. I went on to passionately state that Vonnegut, like all masters of satire, has a kernal of hope for humanity at the center of his being ... otherwise, what's the point of poking fun at society's foibles and self-destructiveness? Had he missed the gallows humor that is clearly the mark of a pissed off and disappointed optimist that has been kicked in the teeth by life, I asked? Did he not understand that Vonnegut's works are more cautionary tales designed to sway society from potentially fatal pitfalls than some nihilistic diatribe? I went on and on, in the way that only a grad student with a fire under his intellectual ass can. My prof grew contemplative as I finished my rant. He looked at me appreciatively and he said that perhaps he had been mistaken and that Vonnegut deserved another look. It wasn't exactly single-handedly bringing about world peace, but making a long tenured professor of literature change or open his mind about something felt pretty good.
I say this not to applaud myself, but to simply say something about the nature of the effect this man's work has on me and the impact he has had on my life through his writing. I remember sitting up late at night years ago in a little apartment in Cullman, reading Vonnegut's novel "Player Piano." It's the sort of book that just impregnates your thoughts and sets your mind racing ... I had to stop and take a break after each chapter, staring at the ceiling and letting what I had just read soak in and resolve itself with my world view before continuing. I remember sitting on a dirt road on the back 40 of a rural cement plant where I worked security detail while in college, reading "Cat's Cradle" by flashlight in a cramped little pickup while I took a smoke break ... and the thoughts and visions he created running through my head as I drove those little backroads throughout the night. I am firmly convinced that his wit, his intelligence, his perception and his heart have contributed mightily to who I am today.
The man was no mere novelist. He was a certified f***ing genius and one of the most important American writers ever. He is often called a science fiction author, which is to me dismissive of the man's greatness. Most of his novels have a fantastic element to them, sometimes dealing with other planets and alien abductions and slipping through time ... but he was not merely a genre writer, despite decribing himself on many occasions as a "hack." He wrote in plain, easily readable language ... not overly flowery or self-indulgent. His words were simple, but his ideas carried weight. He used these other worlds and paranormal situations to illuminate the human condition ... to voice his displeasure at the state of affairs in the world and to lash out, through the use of absurdism and exaggeration, at institutions he felt were dehumanizing or detrimental to human potential. To put it in less lofty terms, he wanted the world to be a better place and for all of us to be f***ing nicer to each other.
So, yeah, to say I'm a huge fan is an understatement. And, although, I feel kind of like I lost an old friend today (technically yesterday, but I was ignorant of that fact until this morning), I'm proud to have known him through his work and I feel like he's made my life better for having met him, in a manner of speaking.
A poor eulogy, this. I just felt like I had to say something, though. The man might be an icon in literary circles, but in my opinion, he's a f***ing legend ... his passing deserves some gravity. The import of this cannot be overstated. The loss of Kurt Vonnegut is not only a loss to the literary community or to America, but to the world.
Note: In the words of my friend Amanda, upon seeing this news pass across a news ticker this morning (and not hearing it reported upon): "WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT F***KING DON IMUS!!?? VONNEGUT IS MORE IMPORTANT!"
You often hear people describe something as "jaw-dropping", but very few times does one really experience this phenomenon. Hearing this news on the radio today was such a moment for me ... by the time the report was finished, it dawned on me that I had slowed my car down to a crawl and that my jaw had quite literally been hanging open since the announcer first opened his mouth. I'm not ashamed to say I was a little misted up. I'm not one usually to wax emotional over the death of someone I didn't know personally ... over some random celebrity or whatever. This is different.
I have to say, Kurt Vonnegut has always been one of my heroes. And that's saying something, considering my postmodern, skeptical, cynical disposition doesn't allow me to actually admire many people, much less beatify them in my own mind.
This man was, to me, something special. When asked in an interview at the beginning of a year-long leadership class what person or persons, living, dead or imaginary, would I choose to have a discussion with over dinner (and what a f***ing Barbara Walters question), my answer was Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
One of the proudest and most exciting moments in my educational career involved Vonnegut. It happened in the hall of the English building at U of Montevallo, where I was discussing favorite authors with a grad school professor with whom I had something of a love/hate relationship ... more of a friendly professional rivalry perhaps, but no matter. I asked him what he thought of Vonnegut and he stated "Vonnegut's a nihilist. I don't like him." I was apoplectic. I told him that Vonnegut was in no way a nihilist, as his stock in trade was satire ... and if he had mistaken Vonnegut's pessimistic bent for nihilism then he was way offbase. I went on to passionately state that Vonnegut, like all masters of satire, has a kernal of hope for humanity at the center of his being ... otherwise, what's the point of poking fun at society's foibles and self-destructiveness? Had he missed the gallows humor that is clearly the mark of a pissed off and disappointed optimist that has been kicked in the teeth by life, I asked? Did he not understand that Vonnegut's works are more cautionary tales designed to sway society from potentially fatal pitfalls than some nihilistic diatribe? I went on and on, in the way that only a grad student with a fire under his intellectual ass can. My prof grew contemplative as I finished my rant. He looked at me appreciatively and he said that perhaps he had been mistaken and that Vonnegut deserved another look. It wasn't exactly single-handedly bringing about world peace, but making a long tenured professor of literature change or open his mind about something felt pretty good.
I say this not to applaud myself, but to simply say something about the nature of the effect this man's work has on me and the impact he has had on my life through his writing. I remember sitting up late at night years ago in a little apartment in Cullman, reading Vonnegut's novel "Player Piano." It's the sort of book that just impregnates your thoughts and sets your mind racing ... I had to stop and take a break after each chapter, staring at the ceiling and letting what I had just read soak in and resolve itself with my world view before continuing. I remember sitting on a dirt road on the back 40 of a rural cement plant where I worked security detail while in college, reading "Cat's Cradle" by flashlight in a cramped little pickup while I took a smoke break ... and the thoughts and visions he created running through my head as I drove those little backroads throughout the night. I am firmly convinced that his wit, his intelligence, his perception and his heart have contributed mightily to who I am today.
The man was no mere novelist. He was a certified f***ing genius and one of the most important American writers ever. He is often called a science fiction author, which is to me dismissive of the man's greatness. Most of his novels have a fantastic element to them, sometimes dealing with other planets and alien abductions and slipping through time ... but he was not merely a genre writer, despite decribing himself on many occasions as a "hack." He wrote in plain, easily readable language ... not overly flowery or self-indulgent. His words were simple, but his ideas carried weight. He used these other worlds and paranormal situations to illuminate the human condition ... to voice his displeasure at the state of affairs in the world and to lash out, through the use of absurdism and exaggeration, at institutions he felt were dehumanizing or detrimental to human potential. To put it in less lofty terms, he wanted the world to be a better place and for all of us to be f***ing nicer to each other.
So, yeah, to say I'm a huge fan is an understatement. And, although, I feel kind of like I lost an old friend today (technically yesterday, but I was ignorant of that fact until this morning), I'm proud to have known him through his work and I feel like he's made my life better for having met him, in a manner of speaking.
A poor eulogy, this. I just felt like I had to say something, though. The man might be an icon in literary circles, but in my opinion, he's a f***ing legend ... his passing deserves some gravity. The import of this cannot be overstated. The loss of Kurt Vonnegut is not only a loss to the literary community or to America, but to the world.
Note: In the words of my friend Amanda, upon seeing this news pass across a news ticker this morning (and not hearing it reported upon): "WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT F***KING DON IMUS!!?? VONNEGUT IS MORE IMPORTANT!"