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Kurt Vonnegut dies at 84.....

venray

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April 12th, 2007 1:00 am


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NEW YORK - Kurt Vonnegut, the satirical novelist who captured the absurdity of war and questioned the advances of science in darkly humorous works such as "Slaughterhouse-Five" and "Cat's Cradle," died Wednesday. He was 84.

Vonnegut, who often marveled that he had lived so long despite his lifelong smoking habit, had suffered brain injuries after a fall at his Manhattan home weeks ago, said his wife, photographer Jill Krementz.

The author of at least 19 novels, many of them best-sellers, as well as dozens of short stories, essays and plays, Vonnegut relished the role of a social critic. He lectured regularly, exhorting audiences to think for themselves and delighting in barbed commentary against the institutions he felt were dehumanizing people.

"I will say anything to be funny, often in the most horrible situations," Vonnegut, whose watery, heavy-lidded eyes and unruly hair made him seem to be in existential pain, once told a gathering of psychiatrists.

A self-described religious skeptic and freethinking humanist, Vonnegut used protagonists such as Billy Pilgrim and Eliot Rosewater as transparent vehicles for his points of view. He also filled his novels with satirical commentary and even drawings that were only loosely connected to the plot. In "Slaughterhouse-Five," he drew a headstone with the epitaph: "Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt."

But much in his life was traumatic, and left him in pain.

Despite his commercial success, Vonnegut battled depression throughout his life, and in 1984, he attempted suicide with pills and alcohol, joking later about how he botched the job.

His mother had succeeded in killing herself just before he left for Germany during World War II, where he was quickly taken prisoner during the Battle of the Bulge. He was being held in Dresden when Allied bombs created a firestorm that killed an estimated tens of thousands of people in the city.

"The firebombing of Dresden explains absolutely nothing about why I write what I write and am what I am," Vonnegut wrote in "Fates Worse Than Death," his 1991 autobiography of sorts.

But he spent 23 years struggling to write about the ordeal, which he survived by huddling with other POW's inside an underground meat locker labeled slaughterhouse-five.

The novel, in which Pvt. Pilgrim is transported from Dresden by time-traveling aliens from the planet Tralfamadore, was published at the height of the Vietnam War, and solidified his reputation as an iconoclast.

"He was sort of like nobody else," said Gore Vidal, who noted that he, Vonnegut and Norman Mailer were among the last writers around who served in World War II.

"He was imaginative; our generation of writers didn't go in for imagination very much. Literary realism was the general style. Those of us who came out of the war in the 1940s made sort of the official American prose, and it was often a bit on the dull side. Kurt was never dull."

Vonnegut was born on Nov. 11, 1922, in Indianapolis, a "fourth-generation German-American religious skeptic Freethinker," and studied chemistry at Cornell University before joining the Army.

When he returned, he reported for Chicago's City News Bureau, then did public relations for General Electric, a job he loathed. He wrote his first novel, "Player Piano," in 1951, followed by "The Sirens of Titan," "Canary in a Cat House" and "Mother Night," making ends meet by selling Saabs on Cape Cod.

Critics ignored him at first, then denigrated his deliberately bizarre stories and disjointed plots as haphazardly written science fiction. But his novels became cult classics, especially "Cat's Cradle" in 1963, in which scientists create "ice-nine," a crystal that turns water solid and destroys the earth.

Many of his novels were best-sellers. Some also were banned and burned for suspected obscenity. Vonnegut took on censorship as an active member of the PEN writers' aid group and the American Civil Liberties Union. The American Humanist Association, which promotes individual freedom, rational thought and scientific skepticism, made him its honorary president.

His characters tended to be miserable anti-heros with little control over their fate. Pilgrim was an ungainly, lonely goof. The hero of "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater" was a sniveling, obese volunteer fireman.

Vonnegut said the villains in his books were never individuals, but culture, society and history, which he said were making a mess of the planet.

"We probably could have saved ourselves, but we were too damned lazy to try very hard ... and too damn cheap," he once suggested carving into a wall on the Grand Canyon, as a message for flying-saucer creatures.

He retired from novel writing in his later years, but continued to publish short articles. He had a best-seller in 2005 with "A Man Without a Country," a collection of his nonfiction, including jabs at the Bush administration ("upper-crust C-students who know no history or geography") and the uncertain future of the planet.

He called the book's success "a nice glass of champagne at the end of a life."

In recent years, Vonnegut worked as a senior editor and columnist at "In These Times." Editor Joel Bleifuss said he had been trying recently to get Vonnegut to write something more for the magazine, but was unsuccessful.

"He would just say he's too old and that he had nothing more to say. He realized, I think, he was at the end of his life," Bleifuss said.

Vonnegut, who had homes in Manhattan and the Hamptons in New York, adopted his sister's three young children after she died. He also had three children of his own with his first wife, Ann Cox, and later adopted a daughter, Lily, with his second wife, the noted photographer Jill Krementz.

Vonnegut once said that of all the ways to die, he'd prefer to go out in an airplane crash on the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro. He often joked about the difficulties of old age.

"When Hemingway killed himself he put a period at the end of his life; old age is more like a semicolon," Vonnegut told The Associated Press in 2005.

"My father, like Hemingway, was a gun nut and was very unhappy late in life. But he was proud of not committing suicide. And I'll do the same, so as not to set a bad example for my children."

___

One of my favorite authors.....RIP.......Hi Ho Kurt... :cry1:
 
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And so it goes, Kilgore Trout was a true hero!!!
I was lucky enough to meet the great author on a manhattan street years ago. But he was very shortempered with me as I was nervous and got the titles and plots of his books mixed up lol.
 
Mph, Cat's Cradle has always been a fave. That's a darn shame. 84's a good long run though. Rest in peace... :dropatear

XOXO
 
Kurt Vonnegut was a staple of my "revisited literature" repertiore. I'm one of those folks who reads a book, gets it and absorbs the information. I rarely read it again. There are those that fall into the aforementioned catagory, however, and I find myself reading them over and over as time goes by, just to re-experience what I already know.

Vonnegut touched me on a strange level...a place in my brain where the surreal becomes acceptable as reality and the absurd makes sense. Much like Huxley and Orwell, the morality was better presented as a gift with bizzare wrapping paper than in a velvet box with gold trim.

Even though he wrote his last novel in 2005 and stated it as such, I was always hoping he'd change his mind. However, he died....

...and so it goes.
 
"I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different."

Kurt Vonnegut
 
And...how many people get hand-picked for a cam to play themselves as a living legend in a Rodney Dangerfield flick... :evilha:
XOXO
 
Rest In Peace

Unfortunately, I can't think of anything meaningful to say. Having been priveleged to hear the man lecture once, and to subsequently meet him by sheer accident (nearly ending his life about 10 years early when I bumped into him after said lecture, coming around a corner) I have some, very vague personal perception of what has been lost, but I'm not sure I can say anything original or overly appropriate about his end, although I do think he deserves an extended nap by now.
 
I remember several years ago that song where they used clips from his recitation of Mary Schmich's "Everybody's Free To Wear Sunscreen". If you haven't hear it, I'm sure you can find it on iTunes or other music servers... it's from the CD Something for Everybody by Baz Lurhmann.

And as amazing a writer he was and how I still find myself thumbing through "Welcome To The Monkey-House" whenever I pass my bookshelf, I still think one of his best moments was his brief but poignant walk-on in a scene from Rodney Dangerfield's "Back To School" where he was hired to help Rodney write a paper on one of Vonnegut's books!

-------------------------------------------------------
[after Diane gives Thornton an 'F' for his report, which was actually written by Kurt Vonnegut]

Diane: Whoever *did* write this doesn't know the first thing about Kurt Vonnegut!

[cut to Thornton's dorm suite]

Thornton Melon: [on the phone] ... and *another* thing, Vonnegut! I'm gonna stop payment on the check!

[Kurt tells him off]

Thornton Melon: Fuck me? Hey, Kurt, can you read lips, *fuck you*! Next time I'll call Robert Ludlum!
-------------------------------------------------------

He had such a great sense of humor. He'll be missed.
 
Rest In Peace, Kurt.

I greatly enjoyed "Cat's Cradle" and "Slaughterhouse 5".
 
His was a life well lived!

It's because of this man that I love to read, and write as well. Back in junior year in high school, we were given copies of Slaughterhouse Five to read as part of the curriculum. Within the given time frame in which to finish the novel, I read the damn thing, cover to cover, thirty-one times. I never dreamed, at my very young age, that such a novel could have ever existed. I still have a well-worn copy of the novel down in my basement. I read it again a couple of years ago- it hasn't lost anything. It's BETTER.

My best friend was laid up in bed with mono, when we were back in high school. His uncle (bless him, he's gonna be 77 years young in the fall), in order to put a better countenance on his face, brought him a copy of Breakfast Of Champions. It really, really eased the pain. I wound up reading that later on, while I was in the Navy. Breakfast Of Champions was one of the funniest novels ever written, by anybody. It's a complete farce. It's really the ultimate Vonnegut...in fact, he claimed to have written that novel as a gift to himself on his fiftieth birthday.

I suggest Mother Night. It wouldn't surprise me if Mel Brooks had lifted a character or two from Mother Night when he conceived of The Producers... another hilarious novel.

I thought that later on, post Breakfast, his novels had gotten kind of sad. I guess it sort of reflected his growing disenchantment with the human race. I'm happy that we have so much of the humor, though. He revolutionized my reading, and my writing...he made me love it dearly!
 
the saddest part is he did not even die of a disease or anything, he fell down and cracked hi head. who knows how long he could have lived.
 
killemall said:
the saddest part is he did not even die of a disease or anything, he fell down and cracked hi head. who knows how long he could have lived.

ahh he would have died of something, if you believe in destiny death dates,which i do...so even if he hadn't fallen down and cracked his head, something would have killed him, i believe anyway....doesn't mean it's true, it's just what i believe and have always believed...

still he lived rather a long time, much longer than most..
 
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