So It Goes!

The American writer Kurt Vonnegut, Jr died yesterday. In researching Unitarians yesterday, I came across his name and face once or twice. Then, upon checking the news, I saw that he had died. So it goes.

This is one of my favorite quotes:

I say in speeches that a plausible mission of artists is to make people appreciate being alive at least a little bit. I am then asked if I know of any artists who pulled that off. I reply, "The Beatles did."

Over the years, I seem to have lent out all of my Vonnegut and am left with a dog-eared-- and chewed--copy of Welcome to the Monkey House. I don't mind sharing, those books will be in print forever.

Got an email from a friend who suggested pulling out my Vonnegut and re-reading something in tribute. At first I was reticent; I had just picked up a borrowed/stolen copy of The Illuminatus Trilogy (book theft goes both ways) which I had previously been unsuccessful in getting beyond the first or second page. A hundred pages in now, and I'm sufficiently invested in time and pages that the death of a favorite author strikes me as a terrible inconvenience. I'm still not sure what to do about it and find my attention vacillating between the collection of short stories and the masonic conspiracy tome.