Slaughterhouse5

So far I find myself really enjoying this novel, and somewhat surprised that I do. As a general rule of thumb I do not enjoy science fiction. I do not enjoy war novels. Slaughterhouse Five is a melange of these two styles, and yet I like it quite a lot. Perhaps the reason I am enjoying this scientific war novel is because it is unlike any novel of war or science fiction that I have read before.

For one, the author does not focus on one style or another. It is not completely a story of science fiction, nor is it completely a story of war. As far as war-novel protagonists go, Billy Pilgrim is also unique. He is not the typical hero. Billy Pilgrim is weak, loony, and bizarre. Even his name reflects immaturity and weakness. So far in my reading up to chapter seven, Billy has done nothing particularly exciting or extraordinary. Billy just seems to float through his POW status, escaping reality periodically to visit past memories.

You know when you are watching horror movies and you say to yourself, “that loser/idiot is going to be the first to die.” This theory of mine is played out several times in the novel. For example, the stubborn hobo starves to death. Annoying, loud, and pompous Weary dies off as well. The characters of intelligent mind and strong body are always the ones to live. People like Edgar Derby. Derby, however, ends up being shot at by a firing squad in Dresden. Why is it that Billy gets to live? Why him? “Why anybody?...So it goes.”

It is here that Vonnegut proves me wrong, showing that in war, there are no rules. The heroes die, the losers (bless them) die as well. No one is spared, no one is pardoned. No one, that is, except our goofy Billy Pilgrim.

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Other things I like about this novel is Vonnegut’s writing style. I enjoy the way he is able to create such vivid, developed characters in a short amount of time. I find myself able to clearly picture each of the characters, no matter how small. Though bizarre at times, they are characters that are believable, and people that I can identify with and relate to my own everyday encounters. It seems that Billy is the hardest character to understand. I haven’t quite been able to “figure him out” just yet. I doubt I will by the end of the novel. I would be alright with that though, because his complexities and bizarre idiosyncrasies enhance his merit as a character, rather than make him a weak character that is annoying to readers.

I also enjoy Vonnegut’s dry humor and satire (funny how those traits so often go hand in hand..) and his sensitiveness to the war that can go undetected at time. There is a quote on the back of my book by “Life” contributor Wilfrid Sheed that reads, “Splendid art…a funny book at which you are not permitted to laugh; a sad book without tears.” I think that this captures the affect and tone of the book quite well. There are very humorous aspects to the book, but I think that most would have trouble actually laughing at them due to the rawness and truth in the scenes. Nearly everything is dark; nearly everything is shadowed by brutal pessimism. It’s hard for readers to laugh at the more humorous scenes (even though there are many of them) because we are constantly being reminded that this is the very true, very real life of a prisoner of war, and that topic just isn’t funny. Billy can appear so pathetic in his confusions between Tralfamadore and Earth that not even this seems laugh out loud funny. Similarly, even though so many aspects of the novel are heart wrenching and depressing, there is no true grief. The Tralfamadorians and Billy do not believe in grief. They take up the mantra of Whitman, saying “all goes outward and onward… and to die is different than anyone supposed, and luckier.” So it goes so it goes so it goes. Readers are not permitted to grieve and the novel is void of tears due to this everlasting acceptance of reality.

This combination is a unique one, but hey, uniqueness does seem, after all, to be the goal of modernist authors.