Ben’s Bookshelf: Slapstick

Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go looking for it, and I think it can often be poisonous.

I wish that people who are conventionally supposed to love each other would say to each other, when they fight, ‘Please–a little less love, and a little more common decency.'”

Kurt Vonnegut
Slapstick

Gather ’round children. Enough ranting about what I refuse to read. Let’s actually discuss some literature that’s worth my time, shall we? Coincidentally, if it’s worth my time… it’s well worth yours too. That’s how this works.

I just finished reading Slapstick, by Kurt Vonnegut. It qualifies, very easily, as a ‘good read’.

In the prologue, Vonnegut says that this is as close to an autobiography as he’s ever written. Much of that has to do with Kurt’s relationship with his brother, and some apparent similarities between that and the relationship between the protagonist and his twin sister. Though, the nature of the bizarre relationship between the two siblings laid out in the novel left me to wonder what, exactly, were those similarities?

The story is told by Dr. Wilbur Daffodil-11 Swain. How he came to possess such a strange middle name is one of the anecdotes unfolded in the book. I will say that it stemmed from one of his “brilliant” plans to unite the country as President of the United States, and I’ll leave it at that.

Sure, there are some things being said here. The book is a commentary on our society (circa 1976), war, loneliness and love. And, I think there are some good points made. But, what I come away with most after the read is how odd it is to me that I enjoy reading something so strange. Really. Vonnegut is nuts (may he rest in peace). But, in a good way. Let me explain…

Wilbur is 7 feet tall. He’s a twin, and each sibling is described as “monster-like”. They don’t look normal. Wilbur claims to be the less intelligent of the two, though nobody will believe this since his sister Eliza can neither read nor write. When they are together, they supposedly share 1 complete brain that is the most intelligent brain since Einstein. Although, to explore the full depth of their intelligence, they tend to engage in some rather disturbing physical activity with each other. For this reason, as children, they are separated and forced to learn how to live with “half a brain”, if you will.

He (Wilbur) is writing the story from his home – the empire state building – after the island of Manhattan (a.k.a. the Isle of Death), has been ravaged by disease. He is one of the few surviving inhabitants. He is a former President of the United States, but the nation’s government has completely collapsed and is now being ruled and fought over by people with titles such as The King of Michigan (to whom Wilbur sold a portion of the country to for $1).

It’s described as an “apocalyptic tale”, and there is much of death, destruction, and the end of the world. Strangely enough though, I don’t believe there’s a depressing moment in the book. The story is written in such a humorous way, it’s almost as if Wilbur is not disturbed in the least by these horrible things, rather he’s fascinated and slightly amused by them.

As I said before, there are, of course, some bigger things that Vonnegut is trying to say to us. But, as far as a message that I take away, I think it’s this:

Much of love is a choice.
Much of happiness is a decision.

Wilbur, though profoundly lonely, seems to be content enough with his life. Despite some horrible things coming to pass, he chooses to find happiness in little things, like candlesticks. I think that’s a lesson we could all learn. Life sucks sometimes. But.. really… so what? That shouldn’t change our common decency, or our respect for those around us. It shouldn’t change the way we act towards and care for those we claim to love. We would be wise to remember that sometimes, life sucks for everyone. We’re not unique in loneliness, depression, or hard times. That is mortality. That is life.

I know that everything Vonnegut was trying to say here didn’t sink in, and I’d like to say that I’ll reread this book, but I have no idea if I ever will or not. I will say that I enjoyed it. It was well worth the read.

And, I will say that reading Vonnegut is truly addicting, in a weird way. I’ll be exploring more of his other works before returning to Slapstick, if I ever do.