|
Sorry to hear you weren't impressed. So it goes. But it's well worth another crack o' the whip, Laz. I've read the book (and all Vonnegut's other novels, essays, etc) a dozen times over the years and I come away with something new every read. It's almost as though you grow into them. What always sticks in my mind from *Slaughterhouse 5* is a tiny scene in which the author himself briefly enters stage left. He can do nothing but vomit. Nowhere else does Vonnegut intrude personal feelings that aren't projected onto his fictional characters. Quite brilliant in what can loosely be described as autobiographical to subtly remind the reader: "Hey, but this ain't MY story." Cheers. Neil
|