The Cavalier Daily
Serving the University Community Since 1890

So it goes

In the wake of his 90th birthday, the late Kurt Vonnegut deserves renewed attention

Last week, a writer for Charlottesville’s The Daily Progress reminisced about Kurt Vonnegut’s 1971 visit to the University. Sunday marked what would have been his 90th birthday. Although Vonnegut himself did not believe in meaningful occurrences, I think even he would have to acknowledge that now seems like an exceptionally appropriate time to discuss his life’s work. Essentially, I chose to write this article because I believe Kurt Vonnegut is wholly underrated. I believe more people should read his books, because doing so could potentially open their eyes to new opinions and perspectives. Let me state succinctly — if shamefully melodramatically — my feelings on Kurt Vonnegut: I would not be the person that I am today without his books. He changed my life.

Some common criticisms of Vonnegut include that his novels are “novels of ideas” rather than eloquent works of literature. They lack engaging plots or convincing characterizations. They want for artistry and simply cannot live up to the likes of Fitzgerald, Proust or Dostoyevsky. I will acknowledge the validity of these claims. It is true: You will not find any beautiful descriptions or poetic remarks within his pages, but you will find poignant, funny, brilliant observations. He says exactly what he is thinking, but often, doing so is more powerful than any lengthy prose could be. His words are striking, and he says a lot with brevity and clarity, not to mention with a tone that is all his own.

To address the claim that his novels are simply a collection of his own ideologies disguised as stories, I will concede that you certainly do gain a comprehensive understanding of Vonnegut’s political and spiritual views by reading his works. How does this differ from authors who are more conventionally great, though? For instance, it is clear from reading Orwell’s “1984” that he has strong opinions on censorship and totalitarianism, but the explicitness of his argument does not detract from the emotional and gripping nature of his plot. Vonnegut does speak through his characters. My argument would be, however, that all novels are novels of ideas. All authors identify with their characters. All books, regardless of genre or author, share the common goal of imparting wisdom or guidance, and Vonnegut’s books do this very effectively.

Perhaps it is simply my infatuation with his work, but personally, I do not find myself disconnected from his story lines or his characters. Although his plots may be outlandish and absurd — he is, broadly speaking, a science fiction writer — while his characters are slightly flat and overtly primal, these characteristics of his writing taken together create a final product that can send a compelling message. As The Daily Progress noted, “[Vonnegut] had a knack for addressing absurdities of life in a way people entering adulthood could identify with.” As college students, his body of work and perspective is thus all the more valuable to us.

Vonnegut exposes his characters to treacherous circumstances and then allows them to respond in darkly humorous, incredibly human ways. Without the exaggerated settings and plotlines of Vonnegut’s novels, his use of them as his own personal soap box would be too blatant. But the unlikely situations that Vonnegut predicts in his novels — such as the post-apocalyptic Manhattan detailed in “Slapstick” — force us to consider the problems with our own society, and how we could rectify them. When you find yourself able to relate to a world where isolation abounds, science is valued over humanity, or religion becomes a means of control rather than comfort, you inevitably come to the shocking realization that your world is not as impeccable as you perceived. Vonnegut will wake you up, and although it is never too late to be shaken up and pushed outside your comfort zone, college is arguably the most apt time. So in closing, let me share two of the lessons Vonnegut has taught me through his novels, in hopes that you all, but my peers especially, will see their relevance and be intrigued to investigate Vonnegut further.

In “Slaughterhouse-Five,” Vonnegut uses the struggles of a World War II soldier suffering from PTSD to construct a commentary on war and, more broadly, the relativity of time. Says Billy Pilgrim, the protagonist, “I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.” I have learned that we define our lives by choosing which experiences to view as impactful. In “Slapstick” and through his outside commentary, Vonnegut condemned the abundance of loneliness that exists in the world because we are so alienated from one another. When asked what young people should do with their lives, he responded, “Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.”

Vonnegut’s writing certainly cured me of my loneliness. The beauty of his writing is inherent in its ability to help people, although it may not be “beautifully written.” In his books I have found comfort and belonging. Vonnegut’s words are timeless and their meaning has evolved with me. If I piqued your interest at all, I encourage you to read a Vonnegut novel as soon as possible. You will not regret it.

Ashley Spinks’ column usually appears Mondays in The Cavalier Daily. She can be reached at a.spinks@cavalierdaily.com.

Comments

Latest Podcast

From her love of Taylor Swift to a late-night Yik Yak post, Olivia Beam describes how Swifties at U.Va. was born. In this week's episode, Olivia details the thin line Swifties at U.Va. successfully walk to share their love of Taylor Swift while also fostering an inclusive and welcoming community.