Kurt Vonnegut died on Wednesday night, or so the paper tells. I was sitting in the car about four years ago when my Grandma said that her favorite novel was Slaughterhouse 5. I made a mental note. She didn't elaborate on what the book was about, but she mentioned something about it giving her an idea of what my Gandfather experienced in WWII. My Grandfather, who joined the Navy when he was 17 so that he wouldn't get drafted into the Army, because, silly, in the Army, on the ground, there were bugs and dirt, and in a ship, things were a little less...insect-ridden. He ended up on a destroyer in the South Pacific, and never talked about it, except to mention one incident when his ship gunned down Japanese planes, and when it was brought to the attention of the captain that there was a survivor in the water, his captain gave orders to run the survivor over with the ship. Having been both raised on cartoons and having heard that story for the first time when I was probably five (when you are a middle child you often get to hear the things meant for the child six years ahead of you), I didn't see the tradegy, or the moral implications of the story until much later, when struggling with own existence.
I read Slaughterhouse 5, and was depressed. I couldn't see how this novel could be anyone's favorite, as the contents filled me with anxiety. But it stuck with me. I have, since reading it, thought often about it. I have thought about the horse that they use for transport without caring for it, and the man eating the spoonful of molasses and bursting into tears, the wooden shoes that they made the jerk-guy wear, the fire-bombing, and the people in the alien glass, and of course, the explanation of time being strung out, and all events happening at the same time, eternally.
The book came to mind when I was living in my parents guest house, a converted garage, and in stead of the garage door, there were glass panels and glass sliding doors, and my parents dogs (a big lab and a border collie) would saunter over to our glass and look in at us, like we were in a cage being examined by the dogs. It was disconcerting at times.
I haven't read any other Kurt Vonnegut, but I probably will; I think we will be reading him later in the semester. His cyncism hits close to home, and it hurts. He seemed like a sweet guy.
4 comments:
Almost all Vonnegut is worthwhile. I recommend Breakfast of Champions as the second Vonnegut people should read (Slaughterhouse being #1). I have read about 15 or so of his books, and even the weaker ones were worth reading. This, in part, because they read fast. I am sad to see the old guy go.
I seem to remember you having some sort of quirk about breakfast. Something about you being able to do well on a test just because you had breakfast? I'll put it on my summer reading list, but only if there isn't any war in it. Summer is for love, suckers!
I use the breakfast leading to good test result as an example of a logical fallacy (post hoc ergo propter hoc). The idea is that teachers in junior high always teach their students study skills and an invariable part of the lesson is to eat a nutritious breakfast the day fo exams. Take it from there.
But you make me think of this thing which I have often considered: what exactly do my students remember from my classes... or misremember? If even Brooke Davis herself "the Star" (I quote from John Ison here) should struggle to keep this crap straight, what of the others?
Hmm, what do I remember from that class...
You like the color green.
You ate celery the first day.
Once there was a big spider crawling close to me and you wouldn't kill it. What are you, Hindu?
You had an amusing habit of consistently tripping over the podium.
Writing on the chalkboard is slightly challenging for you.
I thought the actor in 12 Angry Men was George C. Scott, and I even called him Sir George -- and he was neither in the movie, nor was he British.
And I will never forget this:
Brooke: "Oh, yeah, and there are no zombie mosquito's in ________. I looked it up."
Brandon: "Yes there is!"
Brooke: "Huh-uh. It was an April fools joke."
Brandon: "No, it wasn't! I saw the thing, the page, and it was legit, on the BBC."
Brooke: "Yeah, well, some people created a page with all the same links. It was done very well."
Brandon: "Hm. Alright. Let it be a lesson to us all. Now, on to credible references..."
And then there was this consistent scenario:
Brandon: Okay. How about you, (student name off the roster), what was the main claim of the reading?
Student: Me?
Brandon: Yes, you. What was the authors claim?
Studnet: The claim?
Brandon: Yes.
Student: ...
Brandon: ...
Student: What page?
Logos, Ethos, Pathos. (In that order?)
Language is ambiguous.
Fallacies are abundant! Really! They're everywhere. Post hoc is so common. I listened to a talk recently and was dying because the speaker just ran the gammut of fallacies -- slippery slope, ad hoc, post hoc, straw man...I don't think he was really being a weasel, you can tell when people don't know how to argue well, or they haven't been educated enough to know the difference between really persuading an audience and merely entertaining or catering to their listener's predispositions.
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