I liked Slaughterhouse Five as a whole. I thought it was interesting, thought provoking and definitely the weirdest thing I've ever read. It offered a unique perspective, an interesting format, and some pretty off-the-wall characters. There were so many things to consider while reading this novel and so many places my mind had to be at once. It was a real workout for my brain, something I think I kind of needed. There were some great references, quotes, and characters. Okay, so, the ending may not have been the greatest thing I've ever read, but it was what it was and I can't change it.
This book made me think outside the box, and it gave me some awesome writing inspiration. Some of the scenes of the more inappropriate nature were kind of unnecessary in my view, but obviously the author did not agree. This novel left me wondering a lot of things. How much of our lives do we live in our minds? How much of what we see and hear is really true? Why do we participate in these wars which ship off our young women and men to the battlefields of a once beautiful, peaceful nation, now transformed into hell? Why? That's probably one of the biggest questions I have after reading about all the things this character and this author went through. Why do we do this to the people of our world? What is the point of it all? Don't get me wrong, I have my own set of beliefs, and one of them is that everything happens for a reason and that we are all part of a plan that will work out for the good, but seeing some of the suffering up close through this character it's just hard not to wonder why people like to hurt other people.
Anyway, now that I've ranted about that for a while, I will get back to the real point of this post: Slaughterhouse Five. I first read this book last year because I picked up a copy in Value Village, read the back, and was immediately interested (don't ask me why, as this is definitely not the kind of thing I will normally even pick up). I started reading and I was hooked. Maybe I didn't get all of the hidden meanings, and there were parts that were all mixed up in my mind, but I knew this would be a book I would come back to over and over. There's just something about Vonnegut's writing that speaks to something in me. Maybe it's the way he turns the simple, mundane things into something spectacular, something I know I could have never thought of. There are things in this book I never would have thought of in such a way, probably too many to name. It's so complicated, yet it's so simple. I am a pillar pf salt.Vonnegut wrote this book for himself, to express what happened in Dresden, yet I feel like he wrote it for me. It's authentic in a way that not many things are. It doesn't feel the least bit fake or made up, even the pieces that are hard to believe are authentic, which is funny because a big chunk of it is about aliens from a planet that doesn't even exist (at least to my knowledge). The book made me feel human. I understood something I didn't think I could understand: the experience of another person in a situation completely the opposite to my own.
The characters too, were memorable. When I really think about it, a lot of the characters from this novel are stereotypical in almost every way, yet there is something about them that makes them unique. Edgar Derby, the army section's father figure, is not just a cliché man as one may expect, he's someone I can relate to people in my life, he's someone I believe could be completely real, and I when he died, I felt genuinely sad, even though I knew it was coming. Poor old Edgar Derby. These characters were more than their stereotypes, and honestly, I've thought about why, and I don't know what makes them so special. They just are.
I think my absolute favourite thing about this book though was that sneaky, hidden theme of hope. There was so much destruction, so much hurt, yet there was so much hope. Thinking of Vonnegut as the cynic he was, the hope is kind if funny. It was there though. Every time Billy survived or overcame something, it was there. In the little, pitiful moments, in the cheesy scenes, even in the war, it was there. In the boxcar on the way to the POW camp, Wild Bob, who was dying, still managed to have hope, telling people that if they are ever in Cody, Wyoming, to come see him. It was beautiful, in a way, to have that there. It was what kept me reading. The hope was always there.
I guess that's all. So, thank you, thank you very much Kurt Vonnegut.
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