Book Review I: Slaughterhouse 5

Book Review I: Slaughterhouse-Five

:D I suppose my last post, "Omg Joseph Heller!" was more of a book review than a fruitcake rant, but then again, I felt my labeling justified because it was mostly me gushing about...well...being psychologically...er....manipulated....

....by an inanimate book...

Um, anyways, since I'm planning to do a lot more writing about books in the future, I figured I might as well create a new category: the book reviews. The issue is, often I analyze books from an intellectual perspective. When I write about it, especially in this blog, I would rather prefer to ramble and gush. So, as long as everyone is aware of the fact that, yes, most book reviews will really be book gushes, then I have no qualms about calling this a 'book review'.

Actual Book Review I: Slaughterhouse-Five!

Anyways, Slaughterhouse-Five. I liked it, a ton. It's postmodernist, so there is a limit to how much one can like it. I mean, after a while, the whole cynical apathy begins to wear on you. By the time I got to Catch-22 (by Heller, a contemporary of Vonnegut's) I began to feel a little fed up with these dumb postmodernists. Just my opinion. Still, all things considered, I found Slaughterhouse-Five, with it's time traveling (or rather, perspective traveling) Billy Pilgrim oddly gripping and satisfying.

The perspective shifting format, I believe, really makes this book cool. The sense of disjointedness lends much more to the diaspora (ok, I just misused that word...:P) of Pilgrim, and almost gives a poignancy to his life story that otherwise wouldn't have gotten across. Reading it made me really get that sense of disjointedness and passivity that characterizes Pilgrim.

That's the thing about Pilgrim-- I loved him, but my fellow AmLit-ers were pretty 'meh'. Well, actually, they mostly wanted to punch him. For some reason, I really liked Pilgrim though. His character doesn't seem annoying-- perhaps because I've read characters like him before, notably, Lathe of Heaven's George Orr. I liked Orr, too. :D See a trend? The passivity/apathy seems familiar. It's a pretty cool thing, too. Pilgrim becomes opinions, inactive, almost, he merely exists-- like George Orr! Milquetoast, Jellyfish! Like Orr, this guy was born for his role, the self-less (literally) time traveller, much like Orr was born for his role. Maybe Pilgrim represented the everyman simply because of his absence. Perhaps he was intended to give greater emphasis to the ridiculousness of life. He literally is that bird who witnesses the massacre and can't say anything but 'poo-tee-wheet'. Whatever. I don't have a good reason for why I like him, but I do.

On another note, what I didn't like was the Tralfamadoreans (No! I refuse to spell that correctly! It's a sign of hopeless geekdom if you know how to even pronounce it correctly). They were really random, very disjointed from the rest of the book. Perhaps they were intended to give greater relief on to the absurdity of life. Meh. Still didn't like them. I would postulate that Vonnegut was just throwing them in there to explain the whole 'unstuck in time' deal, but I think he's a much better writer than that. Despite their...well, the only way to describe it is randomness...I still wouldn't re-write the book without them if I could. It's a bit how I couldn't re-write Catch-22 without the intense pain. Somehow, without it, it wouldn't be the same. The book needs it, even though it generally detracts from the reading experience.

All in all, I would give Slaughterhouse-Five a double thumbs up, and definitely recommend reading it (unlike Catch-22. Yes. Read this, it's good). If you do plan on reading it, though, be sure to either pay really close attention to the beginning (where he's all like, "I'm going to write a war story!"), or re-read it when you get close to the end, because it is important, despite your misgivings, and it does get really cool near the end.

This is Quiet Girl, poo-tee-weet!

-Shhhh.....so it goes.

Fruitcake Rave V: Omg Joseph Heller!

Fruitcake Rave V: Joseph Heller

The inner lit vamp inside of me needed fresh blood (and lots of it) to sink her fangs into. So in addition to Survey of Brit Lit (again?), I also took an independent study Am Lit with some other DA kids. Nevermind that they're both male seniors (aliens from another planet!), it's been pretty fun. Recently we've just finished reading Joseph Heller's Catch-22.

...Sigh. What can I say? Catch-22 stands out amongst a crowd and has made a lasting impression on me. Much like how a brand makes a lasting impression on you. Like, a cattle brand. Funny, but now that I think about it, reading Catch-22 felt a lot like being branded. Yet despite the immense torture, I emerged, victorious, and in love*.

Reading Catch-22 was like nothing I ever read before (and remembered. Sometimes, traumatic events get wiped from your memory). Initially, the book was pretty hilarious; that is, it got a couple of smirks and a bunch of 'oooh, that's clever'. Eventually, however, you realize that the jokes are getting old. And then after that, you realize that there is no plot. And after that, you realize that you aren't getting anywhere. And then, comes the final realization, you are going to die. Just kidding. But in all honesty, the book soon evolves into an upward battle. You constantly trudge through the same monotony, over and over again, and look back, and realize, absolutely nothing has happened.

At all.

Seriously.

I mean it.

Yet throughout the stagnacy, hope gleams. Merely because nothing has happened and the fact that Catch-22 is renowned as am lit, you continue to hope that maybe, maybe Joseph Heller is the messiah and can somehow manage to tie all of this together into an amazing wonderful conclusion in the next 30 pages.

And he does. He manages to pull it off. After roughly 400 pages of emotional abuse (there is no other way to state it. Yes. I have been manipulated by an inanimate book), he pulls through and creates this amazing ending which makes it all worth it. The suffering, the pain, the boredom is all tied together (or at least, most of it), and the ending...well, let's just say it's one of the most beautiful things in this world.

...Of course, it could be, (as Alanna puts it) just that Heller manipulates you so that you expect dirt nothing, and then gives you a carrot, so you're like "A CARROT!!!! ", which is definitely viable, considering how this book reads.

But, emotional abuse aside, this book is a work of art after you read the ending. Midway you begin to notice the deaths of Yossarians friends, very flatly narrated, but still poignant (and in the case of Hungry Joe...slightly ridiculous?), and if you're really nice to Heller, you may admit seeing the delicate growth of madness (through reading the book, what else!) growing not only on Yossarian, but on you, until it all explodes during the end, and if you do fan-worship Heller, you realize that this is the most amazing balance of ridiculousness and monotony until you're practically forced into Yossarian's viewpoint.

All of this, however, depends on the ending. The ending, I believe, is what reveals this as a work of art. Because otherwise, it is (pardon my language) a piece of c***. So if you do decide to read Catch-22, you must read everything. You can't pull out midway (because otherwise you'll be even MORE psychologically scarred), so if you begin, you must persevere to the end. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, and while I don't recommend reading Catch-22 (because it's a pain), if you do decide to read it, my heartiest congratulations, and prayers, because you will need it. It's an interesting balance of one of those things I hate and love, that I adore but would totally not read again or recommend to a friend (maybe to a serious enemy, but even that seems a little extreme).

Three things are for certain; this really does deserve its place in the American literary cannon; I have been irrevocably scarred and manipulated by a book**, and Joseph Heller's Catch-22 is certainly not for the faint hearted.

Squeal! now I'm a fangirl. This is Quiet Girl, off to read more books!

-Shhhh....

*with the book. Just saying.

**No, I'm kidding. But I do feel like I've gone through an ideal, and emerged stronger.

Ramblings 1: The Dead (not James Joyce)

Ramblings 1:

...I have been dead for a very, very long time.

...

...No, not really, but for all practical purposes, I have been dead.

Firstly, I'd like to extend a belated apology to all my long distance friends and anyone who reads this blog (..."hello?....is anyone...out there?... Anyone?...Anyone?") for being such a bad communicator and not keeping up with the overworld (as we the dead term the world of the living). No excuses, as cliche as this sounds, can really justify such a long silence, and I really am sorry for being an irresponsible correspondent. From my heart, with love, my sincerest apologies.

Secondly, a quick update. I'm not quite sure how to quickly update anything, and a lot has happened since moving to Reno. I don't know if anyone's interested in the daily grind of school*, or angsty teenage bemoanings, and also-- I'm not really sure what to talk about. I suppose I should tell you I'm happy (the dead usually are), well fed (though Mom's going nuts about healthy food), alive (not. No, just kidding), that I've taken up yoga (ommmm....Namaste. That's all I know**), reunited with Piano at UNR***, started liking Geometry (see, this is how you can tell that I'm really dead, b/c I would only start liking math over my dead body!!!), and haven't grown one inch. Much to my disappointment****.

I'll work on quietly catching things up to speed, rambling ever on and on about life...in general. But before I ramble on even more and blow this up into a novel about the woes of teenager hood (jk), This is Quiet Girl, back from the dead!

-Shhh...

Even the dead need their beauty sleep.

*Or if I'm allowed to talk about the daily grind of school. DA is...well, one of the most paranoid buildings on campus. Just kidding. It is pretty paranoid, but it shouldn't be an issue.

**no, not really. But more on yoga later.

***My wonderful piano teacher, Dr. W has completely transformed piano as I know it.

****Even MORE to my disappointment, Ian HAS grown one inch. And another. And ANOTHER. AND ANOTHER. He is now two inches taller than me. :P Ah, so it goes.