No sports today. Instead, we’ll honor the passing of one of America’s greatest writers. Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday from complications from a head injury he received in a fall several weeks ago. He was 84.
Vonnegut was born in Indianapolis but also owned homes in Manhattan and the Hamptons. He is best known for his semi-autobiographical science fiction/satire novel Slaughterhouse Five, but I contend his greatest work is The Sirens of Titan. Vonnegut wrote 19 novels in all, including Cat’s Cradle, Breakfast of Champions and Galapagos.
Vonnegut’s writings are notoriously schizophrenic (as possibly are many of his characters), yet his odd blend of science fiction (aliens and space/time travel), his WWII remembrances and heartrendingly ironic, even apocalyptic scenarios somehow resonated across demographics. He was as wise as he was biting, as beautiful a writer as he was black as a humorist and his characters were unforgettable. One of my favorites is “Ransom K. Fern, a butt like two BBs” who, along with Winston Niles Rumfoord, played foil for a while to the colorful Malachi Constant. Of course, who can forget “Kazak – the Hound of Space” who was not a hound at all, but a mastiff.
Via con dios, Kurt…and thanks for the inspiration.
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