Cruelest Month

Kurt Vonnegut just passed away.

On an earlier post, I mentioned how a friend sent me a stack of Vonnegut paperbacks when I was about 18, and it helped me kick-start me reading as a young adult. I went through a period of probably 6 or 7 years when I did not read much [about the time I began playing guitar.]

These books contained more than a few things that informed how I saw the world.

One, which I believe is contained in an introduction to one of his books [often the very best parts of Vonnegut's books] described how his Uncle Alex would attend AA meetings even though he had no verifiable problem with alcohol. But he attended for the sense of community that was otherwise lacking in his life [and in Vonnegut's estimation, in modern society, generally. Loneliness is a huge theme in Vonnegut's work.]

Secondly, there is a beautiful quote that I will always remember from "Rosewater" about how, in every sizable transaction, when large amounts of wealth are transferred, there is a moment - a magical instant - where some of the gilt rubs off on the lawyers' hands:

“In every big transaction,” said Leech, “there is a magic moment during which a man has surrendered a treasure, and during which the man who is due to receive it has not yet done so. An alert lawyer will make that moment his own, possessing the treasure for a magic microsecond, taking a little of it, passing it on. If the man who is to receive the treasure is unused to wealth, has an inferiority complex and shapeless feelings of guilt, as most people do, the lawyer can often take as much as half the bundle, and still receive the recipient’s blubbering thanks.”

Many of my views of the world - the inexorable loneliness of modern society, the absurdity of human intention, how people deal with fate [Deadeye Dick, for example], so many of these ideas were shaped and nurtured by my love of Vonnegut.

I'm going to go get "Palm Sunday" and some of his essays tomorrow. I hope I'm not alone.