Poo-tee-weet?

In chapter 10 of Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut concludes the book with a rather interesting phrase. Interesting, that is, to the casual reader who skimmed through just to finish reading for the sake of finishing.  For me, however, I knew the phrase was coming all along. After studying chapter after chapter, I knew how the book would end, and I knew what word would be used.
Vonnegut's conclusion of the book is, "Birds were talking. One bird said to Billy Pilgrim, 'Poo-tee-weet?'" (215). Again, a casual reader would find "Poo-tee-weet?" to be a rather strange way to end the book. However, Vonnegut's purpose with this phrase is directly outlined in Chapter One. As a way of continuing his return into the book's forefront, Vonnegut ended the book just how he said he would at the beginning.
In chapter 1, Vonnegut uses the phrase "Poo-tee-weet?" twice, located on pages 19 and 22. On page 19, Vonnegut says, "And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like 'Poo-tee-weet?'" Vonnegut directly foreshadows what will later happen in the book. On page 215, the survivors of the massacre are clouded in silence: they do not know what to say. However, the bird breaks the silence, just like Vonnegut said it would, by saying "Poo-tee-weet." On page 22, Vonnegut says, "It begins like this: Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time. It ends like this: Poo-tee-weet?"
As a way of connecting the overall frame story from chapter one when it seemed Vonnegut himself would be the main character, he returns to his story at the end to connect with Billy Pilgrim. Furthermore, he ends the story exactly how he said he would, and how I had been anticipating for some time, with a bird. With nothing to say about the horrific bombing themselves, the survivors can only remain silent, but birds are never silenced. To birds, the firebombing was just another event in their lives, so they should just go on tweeting like they knew it would happen anyways. Perhaps Vonnegut is connecting the birds to the Tralfamadorians. Both seem to go on with their lives as if it's all part of the plan and death is unavoidable. So it goes.

Roses and Mustard Gas

In the final chapter of Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut re-introduces himself into the story. He returns to speaking in first person of the situations that happened to him and Billy Pilgrim. On page 214, Vonnegut makes a personal observation of what it was like in the "corpse mines" of Dresden. He gives the reader the image of, "There were hundreds of corpse mines operating by and by. They didn't smell bad at first, were wax museums. But then the bodies rotted and liquefied, and the stink was like roses and mustard gas."
Yuck. Roses and mustard gas? I've heard that before, from the first chapter to describe alcoholic breath. Vonnegut is directly referencing the first chapter here, and he is also giving the reader a direct image appealing to the reader's sense of scents, smell. Vonnegut uses this image to describe that the smell of the rotting corpses is the worst smell he can think of, so he associates the smell with alcoholism and roses and mustard gas, which must not be Vonnegut's two favorite stenches. Whenever Vonnegut describes a rotten odor, he always refers to the stench as "roses and mustard gas." He clearly must hate the scents.
In addition, the quote above also is more than an image; it is a dramatic understatement. An understatement is a severe type of verbal irony where the author says much less than what is meant. When Vonnegut says, "They didn't smell bad at first... the stink was like roses and mustard gas", he is understating just how rotten the smell actually was. Dead bodies are clearly much stinkier than roses and mustard gas, but, again, Vonnegut simply used those two smells to reference chapter one.The reader knows Vonnegut wasn't serious when he said they didn't smell bad at first. Of course they did! We're talking dead bodies here. Gross.
To conclude, I'm going to provide a video from Spongebob, because whenever something smells bad, I always quote Mr Krabs from the very first episode. Surely, whenever Vonnegut smells something he doesn't like, he must always compare the stench to roses and mustard gas, but I always use this quote from Mr Krabs:

Live from WOOF Studios, the Channel 3 News

In Chapter 9 of Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut includes several comments of his own on "the real world." One example is found on page 200, when Vonnegut says, "The news of the day, meanwhile, was being written in a ribbon of lights on a building to billy's back. The window reflected the news. It was about power and sports and anger and death. So it goes."
See what I mean? Vonnegut is directly satirizing what has become of the daily news. From several TV anchors to a repetitive replication of the same news over and over across several stations, the news isn't exactly new anymore. It's become more of the same. In Vonnegut's eyes, it's the same daily across American news stations with focus on power, sports, anger, and death. In a nutshell, Vonnegut is right. This is essentially all that ever appears on the news, with all the topics falling into at least one of the categories, if not several. (Well, except for the weather, but what do the weathermen know anyways?) Vonnegut is directly criticizing the news, and he generalized what every local TV station has been reiterating for years now.
The local news have been critiqued across several spectrums, including the TV show "Whose Line Is It Anyways?" Vonnegut is simply jumping on board with his critique of the news by simply stating the only four categories that ever seem to occur on the news. Vonnegut satirizes the news accurately, and I'm sure no one can truly argue one way or the other against his point.
And to conclude, I'm going to leave it to the "Boom Goes the Dynamite" Guy. Enjoy:

Lily Learns a Thing or Two

In Chapter 9 of Slaughterhouse-Five, Vonnegut briefly introduces a few new characters to the life of Billy Pilgrim. While in the hospital after his plane crashed, Pilgrim's roommates, Bertram Rumfoord, and his wife Lily. Rumfoord's fifth wife, Lily is indirectly characterized by Vonnegut as an uneducated high school dropout with little knowledge inside her head. In fact, could she even read?
Here are a few things Vonnegut directly states about Lily's character: she is Rumfoord's fifth wife and is twenty-three years of age.
Indirectly, Vonnegut later characterizes her as a pretty young girl, but I wouldn't say the lights are exactly on upstairs. Vonnegut says, "[Lily] had been an a-go-go girl when Rumfoord saw her and resolved to make her his own. She was a high school dropout. Her IQ was 103" (184). Honestly, I don't know too much about IQs, but I do know that if Vonnegut were to mention it, I doubt it would be too high. Especially about poor Lily, who just doesn't seem to know any better. Poor Lily. The reader also knows that she was a high school dropout and an a-go-go, so her life hasn't gone extremely smoothly. She has had a rough life so far, and marrying an old man like Rumfoord seemed to be a good option for her, so that also tells the reader how slowly the cogs are turning in her head. Let's just say she isn't exactly the brightest Crayola in the box.
Later in the chapter, Vonnegut continues to indirectly characterize Lily as a dim-witted dropout with a life made difficult by her lack of education. A few examples of Lily's uneducation include:

• "She didn't read well, which was one of the reasons she dropped out of high school" (185). The poor girl can't read? Yikes. Most people learn to read by high school, so that's a great example of Lily's sad lack of education.
• "He knew very little about her, except that she was one more public demonstration that he was superman" (185). She probably only married the guy for his money. She couldn't actually love him. Shaking my head.
• "So Lily sat down and pretended to read the Truman thing" (185). I can actually hear her saying, "Ok, I'll just read this Truman thing." Lily is somewhat of a stereotypical teenager with poor speaking abilities.

Those are three examples I found, and all are on the very next page from the introduction of Lily. it's sad that she hasn't gotten proper education throughout her life. She has struggled greatly in the classroom, but at least she's pretty. That seems to be all that Rumfoord cares about her, and he married her for all the wrong reasons. Although her lack of education isn't something to be laughed at, Vonnegut probably introduces her into his book as a form of satirizing high school dropouts who later marry old men for money. Vonnegut is trying to make fun of the uneducated women in American society. Shaking my head.

A Story Within A Story Within A Story Within.....

A frame inside a frame inside a frame

Chapter 8 of Slaughterhouse-Five is probably best described as a frame story. In fact, it's more than just that. It's more like a frame-frame-frame-frame story, or something along those lines. The entire chapter is interlocked as a paragon of Vonnegut's story-telling thus far. Inside a few of the stories, he tells stories of stories from the original frame, and vice versa.
For example, the chapter's original frame begins by describing American Nazi Howard W. Campbell, Jr. Edgar Derby would later stick up for American rights, telling Campbell he was something worse than a snake for being a traitor (Benedict Arnold-esque for leaving the American side).
The chapter then jumps to an original frame from long ago, with Billy's daughter scolding his behavior and wishing to kill Kilgore Trout for putting such crazy thoughts into his head.
Now the chapter shifts to a segue of Billy's first time meeting Trout, who is now a circulation man for the Ilium Gazette.
An excellent example of a frame inside this encounter is found on page 167, when Vonnegut describes the situation as, "'Hell no,' said Kilgore Trout. 'You think money grows on trees?' Trout, incidentally, had written a book about a money tree. It had twenty-dollar bills for leaves. Its flowers were government bonds. Its fruit was diamonds. It attracted human beings who killed each other around the roots and made very good fertilizer. So it goes." This frame story is somewhat of an aside because it is so brief; however it is a frame story because he shifts from the original story into a description of one of Trout's books, including several details.
More frames are found throughout the chapter, including Billy's eighteenth wedding anniversary party, his recall of the Dresden bombing (which is what I was talking about when I said he tells stories of stories from the original frame, or in this case, the beginning of the chapter), which leads to another story within a story, when Billy travels to Tralfamadore to tell Montana Wildhack of his experience after the bombing on the "moon" of Dresden.
This is an excellent transition from Vonnegut because the rest of the chapter focuses on the moon/Dresden. Billy Pilgrim was in his bedroom, reminiscing on the Dresden bombing, and the story shifts to that setting. Then, Billy comes unstuck in time and recalls when he told Montana Wildhack about the bombing. He then recalls fleeing to a suburb and finding an inn to sleep in for the night. In a way, Vonnegut has accomplished a difficult task of framing the anniversary party around Dresden bombing around Montana Wildhack in Tralfamadore around Dresden again.
Vonnegut probably placed the entirety of Chapter 8 in a frame setting to remind the reader of several various settings throughout the book's plot. He is also able to remind the reader of how Billy has been coming unstuck in time. However, the entire book has been centered around the Dresden bombing, and in this chapter, the reader encounters the climax of the plot of the bombing story. Personally, I am curious to find out what will happen in the next two chapters. How will Vonnegut be able to conclude all the side stories that have evolved throughout the entire book? I know Billy will live for a while because I already know how and when he will die. But how will everything else turn out? I guess I'll just have to read to find out.

That's One Small Step for Man

In Chapter 8 of Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut develops a cliche about how Dresden had transformed into the moon after the bombing. Vonnegut is able to portray an image of a barren wasteland to the reader where everything that once was there, only used to be there. In the quote, "Dresden was like the moon now, nothing but minerals. The stones were hot. Everybody else in the neighborhood was dead" (178), Vonnegut first introduces his comparison between Dresden and the moon. As a reader, I instantly thought, "Wow" because it made me realize just how severe the damage truly was. Vonnegut is able to transform this experience that few people could relate or connect to into an experience that everyone can connect to. Everyone on Earth can relate to a simile of the moon because everyone on Earth has seen the moon and knows what it looks like. With this first simile, Vonnegut is able to grab the reader's attention and explain symbolically what it was like.
But he wasn't done there.
What makes this simile a cliche are Vonnegut's repetitive references to his original simile of "Dresden was like the moon." For the next few pages, Vonnegut's effort of focusing on his simile becomes cliche, or a dead simile (which isn't technically on the literary terms sheet, but I made it up because it isn't quite a dead metaphor).
For example,

• On page 179, when Billy is describing the bombing of Dresden to Montana Wildhack, he says, "'It was like the moon.'" Vonnegut's first directly refers to the original simile. ("Dresden was like the moon.")
• Later, on the same page and into the next one (180), Vonnegut describes the reaction to the bombing as, "It was realized then that there was no food or water, and that the survivors, if they were going to survive, were going to have to climb over curve after curve on the face of the moon." Here, Vonnegut is describing the rocky surface of the remains of the town. In this way, he is abstractly comparing Dresden to the craters of the moon. This could be seen as an extended or implied metaphor.
• In the next sentence, Vonnegut says, "The curves were smooth only when seen from a distance" (180). Just like, say, the moon, perhaps?
• In the following paragraph, Vonnegut includes two references to the moon with "Nobody talked much as the expedition crossed the moon." (180) and "There were to be no moon men at all" (180). The latter of these references is also an extended/implied metaphor that these survivors are now akin to moon men.

Therefore, Vonnegut's original simile comparing Dresden to the moon has grown tired and cliche. The spontaneity is now gone, and the effect of the initial simile is now ineffective. With Vonnegut's repetetive comparison to the moon, the reader is no longer thinking "Wow" and is now thinking "Okay, I get it. Dresden is the moon. It's been established." Vonnegut's original simile was excellent, but by the end of the chapter, the comparison has been over-emphasized.

Wait Till the Sun Shines Nellie

The previous song is a rendition of "Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nelly" with Bing Crosby and Mary Martin. According to Wikipedia, "Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nelly" was a popular 1905 song written by Harry Von Tilzer and lyrics by Andrew B. Sterling. Traditionally, floor traders at the New York Stock Exchange sing this song on the final trading day of every year, in addition to Christmas Eve, because the song has been the stock exchange anthem since 1934.
On page 156, Kurt Vonnegut alludes to this song by stating, "The barbershop quartet on the airplane was singing 'Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nelly,' when the plane smacked into the top of Sugarbush Mountain in Vermont. Everybody was killed but Billy and the copilot. So it goes."
Ah, how tragic! The barbershop is singing an incredibly upbeat and happy tune just before the plane crash. So it goes. (And - by the way - who doesn't love a good barbershop quartet? I can only think of one person who might disagree...)
After listening to that song a few times myself, I have already fallen in love. It's such a catchy tune! I immediately picture four men in dashing red-and-white-striped shirts, mustaches, suspenders, and white hats singing in perfect harmony while the audience applauds. Ah, 1905! The "Good Ol' Days!" I remember those years like they were yesterday... What? That's just me? Oh, alright.
The question now is, what purpose did Vonnegut have with the allusion to this song? Like I mentioned earlier, Vonnegut's purpose was to give the reader the image of everything working perfectly one second, and horribly the next. Everything is seemingly status quo in the plane with the quartet beautifully singing a fun, happy song (after singing a few crude, racist tunes) and tons of optometrists recalling old times. (Side note: What could a bunch of optometrists really talk about anyways? Example: Optometrist 1: Yeah, this patient of mine was nearsighted, but I accidentally told him he was farsighted. He walks into a door because he couldn't see! Hahahaha!
Optometrist 2: Hahahaha! Great story, Jim. One time I had this old lady who was as blind as a bat, so I gave her trifocals! And even then she couldn't see! Hahahaha... It was the funniest thing, you had to be there...... Yeah, sounds like a great plane ride....) Anyways, everything is going great, until- BANG! The plane crashes and no one saw it coming. Only two survive alive. The rest... weren't so lucky. So it goes.
So that's what I think Vonnegut's purpose was with "Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nelly." He was creating a mood of liveliness and happiness until, one second later, everything changes. I can immediately picture the scene. How tragic.

Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, It's Off to Work We Go

Chapter 7 of Slaughterhouse-Five is by far the shortest in the book at just eight pages. However, although the chapter is short, it is still loaded with material. In fact, on just the 2nd page of the chapter, I was able to find a blog topic: a quatrain in the middle of typical text... with hilarious dialect. On page 155, I found the quote:
     "Me and Mike, ve vork in mine.
      Holy shit, ve have good time.
      Vunce a veek ve get our pay.
      Holy shit, no vork next day."
After reading this quatrain, I immediately began laughing at the idea of these men singing this song in a mine. I could then hear their distinct accent, mainly from Vonnegut's way of spelling the words, and I laughed more.
When I read this quatrain, I wondered if he was alluding to an actual song or not. After all, whenever I thought of miners singing, I always used to think of Bashful, Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, and Sneezy from Snow White. After some brief research, I discovered that Vonnegut must have simply made up the song. From now on, I am positive that the "Me and Mike, ve vork in mine" song will now come to my mind instead of "Heigh Ho"
Vonnegut must have written this quatrain as a form of satirizing the Pennsylvanian coal miners . Again, Vonnegut displayed his mastery of conveying dialect through text, and he alsowas able to produce more humor from his book.
So, yeah, that's pretty much all I have to say about that humorous quatrain. I feel like ending this blog post with a song. 7 Dwarves, take it away:

Going, Going, Gone

Throughout Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut has often used one certain motif over and over again. At first, I thought it was Vonnegut just being a unique author with its constant recurrence, and he didn't feel the need to continue talking about the given topics. However, I now realize just what the significance behind the phrase actually is. I'm just slightly embarrassed that it took me until now just to realize what it meant. The phrase I'm referring to here is, of course, "So it goes."
I finally realized the significance of this phrase in Chapter 6 on page 140 after it was mentioned in the quote from Paul Lazzaro, "'And he'll pull out a gun and shoot his pecker off. The stranger'll let him think a couple of seconds about who Paul Lazzaro is and what life's gonna be like without a pecker. Then he'll shoot him once in the guts and walk away.' So it goes."
After reading that quote, it all started making sense. Vonnegut has been using "So it goes" throughout SH-5 to follow deaths throughout the book. This is Vonnegut's way of saying "There goes another life." Billy heard this phrase from the Tralfamadorians, who all view death as just another point in one's life. Death is not escapable; instead, every person's life just comes and goes.
After making my slowly processed realization that "So it goes" has a purpose, and just what that purpose is of signifying death, I continued to read the chapter and discovered my realization seems to be spot on. Here are a few more examples of "So it goes" throughout Chapter 6:

• "'In the war?' said Lazzaro. 'Yeah- I had a friend in the war. He's dead.' So it goes" (141). Yup, that fits my "So it goes" realization.
• "The United States of America has been Balkanized, has been divided into twenty petty nations so that it will never again be a threat to world peace. Chicago has been hydrogen-bombed by angry Chinamen. So it goes. It is all brand new" (142). If there was any doubt that a hydrogen bomb would entail at least a few deaths, the doubt has cleared with Vonnegut's remark of "So it goes." Yup, more death. (I wonder if the Cubs would win the World Series in that "brand new Chicago"... Yeah, I know, probably not, but I can dream.)
• "It is aimed at him from the darkened press box. In the next moment, Billy Pilgrim is dead. So it goes" (143). Death? Check. So it goes? Check.

Those are just 3 examples of the connection between "So it goes" and perishing. There are more examples of "So it goes" in the book and the chapter, but I'm too lazy to type them all out it would be too long of a list. I'm almost 100% certain that all of the rest of the examples also follow death, dying, or disease of some sort, so I'll leave the list at its current length.
I'm just really surprised it took me so long to realize the connection between "So it goes" and death. However, since I have now finally realized the connection, I will certainly continue to look for more connections as the story goes on.

Oh, the Irony

Irony. This food cart is a perfect example of it. See the irony yet? Keep looking. Its there [sic].
In Chapter 6 of Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut provides his best example thus far of situational irony. With the quote from Edgar Derby to his wife of: "Dear Margaret- We are leaving for Dresden today. Don't worry. It will never be bombed. It is an open city" on page 147,Vonnegut ironically hints the reader the exact opposite of what will happen. He knows Dresden will be bombed. Billy Pilgrim, in future flashbacks of his life, knows Dresden will be bombed. Even the reader knows (at this point in the book) that Dresden will be bombed.
The situational irony in the statement from Derby to his wife alerts the reader to the upcoming climax of SH-5: the inevitable Dresden bombing. Vonnegut has been hinting at this event since Chapter 1, but now the picture seems less and less fuzzy. We (the readers) know the bombing is coming and will undoubtedly shake up the rest of the plot. Now it seems as though Vonnegut will somehow manage to transform the bombing into a humorous, comical epicenter of SH-5.
We, as the readers, should have known this was coming. (Uh, what am I saying, we do know it's coming.) Vonnegut has been throwing his humor throughout his book, so it only makes sense that he will convey humor from such a tragic event in history. Somehow, it took until now for me to realize this. With Derby's ironic "It will never be bombed", it all finally clicked with me. Everyone (except obviously Derby) knows the bombing is coming. Now it's just a matter of when it will happen, and how Vonnegut is able to satirize the bombing. So it goes.

God Save the Queen

Fish and chips. Funny accents. The "Loo". Royal weddings. Those unmovable guards at Buckingham Palace. London 2012. The Barclays English Premier League. Harry Potter.
These are just a few things that come to mind when I think of the "jolly old U.K." However, in Chapter 5, Vonnegut paints a different picture of the British. His image of the men across the pond is  much more respectable than mine. In fact, Vonnegut's portrayal of the British in WWII is completely honorable.
Example:"The Englishmen had also been lifting weights and chinning themselves for years. Their bellies were like washboards. The muscles oftheir calves and upper arms were like cannonballs. They were all masters of checkers and chess and bridge and cribbage and dominoes and anagrams and charades and PIng-Pong and billiards, as well" (Vonnegut, 94).
Amazing. Simply amazing. These British soldiers are everything that a soldier would want to be. Is there anything they aren't exceptional at? (Answer:Yes, basketball.) Vonnegut later goes on to explain that the British are admired by the Germans, so much so that the Germans have provided them with an embarrassment of riches and camps. Wait a second. The Germans adore their warring rivals? Yes, and for good reason.
Vonnegut's portrayal of the Brits is one of "model citizens" and perfection. This has to have a purpose, doesn't it? So what is his purpose? I think Vonnegut's trying to show that the British aren't the people we believe them to be. They should be looked up to for their valiant effort in the war. Vonnegut is attempting to give them credit for their true heroism, and I now agree with him. They should be lauded. Professor Dumbledore, give them a hand:

A Kite Can't Fly with a Broken String

In chapter 5 of Slaughterhouse-Five, the chapter goes on and on and on for fifty pages with no purpose whatsoever many wild and incredible events occur with Billy Pilgrim. One of these crazy events is found  on pages 96 and 97, when Billy catches on fire after standing too close to a stove. Upon beating out the sparks with his hands without response from Billy, an Englishman comments, "'My God- what have they done to you, lad? This isn't a man. It's a broken kite'" (Vonnegut, 97). Ouch. That hurts. And no, I'm not talking about having one's coat catch on fire. I mean that being metaphorically called a "broken kite" certainly can't make anyone feel particularly great about himself. What the Brit probably means in his metaphor is that due to Billy's unresponsive nature, he assumes that Billy has been tortured or abused so that he is currently mentally gone. (See, "we never assume in geometry", and certainly do not assume in literature either.) The Englishman is stunned to see what has become of this poor Yank. So stunned is he that he later asks, "'Are you really an American?'" (97).
I don't know whether to be proud or offended by that question, but I think he means that he expected much better of Americans than this sore sap of a bump-on-a-log, Billy. Anyways, Billy is metaphorically called a broken kite for this reason: kites can't fly if they're broken; humans can't function without a brain. Vonnegut probably included this metaphor to continue prove that Billy had a really crummy, unbearable experience in the war. Being insulted by his partners in war is yet another notch in The Broken Kite's unfortunate life.

Alien Abduction Time!

I already know. This is already my second (!) post that involves Pixar movies. (The first explained how Roland Weary was similar to Sid from Toy Story.) I am aware of this fact, and I do not care. Pixar is amazingly animated and I think it's really funny. The video I linked to is a short Pixar film titled Lifted that was featured before (I believe) Pixar's Wall-E, but maybe it was before Ratatouille. I can't remember, but it doesn't matter. The video is about an alien abduction, and when I read page 76 of Slaughterhouse-Five, this is seriously the first thing I thought of. Although I don't think the original video included that soundtrack (I don't think Pixar wanted their videos to be easily available on YouTube or something, so someone must have had to edit it due to copyright limitations), the video still has the same meaning. I think it's quite hilarious personally, but maybe other people think otherwise.
Anyways, as I mentioned earlier, I thought of this video when I read page 76. Specifically, when I read the quote, "Billy's will was paralyzed by a zap gun aimed at him from one of the portholes. It became imperative that he take hold of the bottom rung of the sinuous ladder, which he did. The rung was electrified, so that Billy's hands locked onto it hard. He was hauled into the airlock, and machinery closed the bottom door," I immediately thought of this video.
Okay, so maybe the video doesn't exactly match up with the passage. However, I still thought of this video because each describes exactly what I picture when I think of an alien abduction. Both involve a human entirely against his will being lifted into a porthole of a spaceship through some sort of glowing light or "zap gun". Somehow, both Vonnegut and Pixar know exactly what I picture in terms of an alien abduction. Perhaps Pixar was attempting to make the two aliens in Lifted resemble Tralfamadorians. After all, both are green! I doubt this is the case, but I still find it interesting.
I think the main purpose of Vonnegut's quote from page 76 is to evoke an image of an alien abduction where Billy's brain is no longer able to function, and he is thrust onto the spaceship without a choice. I also think that Billy's abduction may come into play later in the novel. Perhaps this brain take-over by the Tralfamadorians will explain why Billy's mind travels throughout time. Then again, perhaps not. (After proof-reading this, I guess I really like saying the word perhaps, and I really love Pixar movies.)

I Wonder What Will Happen Next...

In Chapter 4, Vonnegut begins to hint at what would later happen to Billy on Tralfamadore. On page 77, Vonnegut foreshadows Billy's future with the quote, "The hold of the saucer was crammed with other stolen merchandise, which would be used to furnish Billy's artificial habitat in a zoo on Tralfamadore."
Hmm, I wonder what will happen next... Perhaps Billy will be placed in a zoo on Tralfamadore. However, since the Tralfamadorians are not typical beings, the zoo probably won't be a typical zoo. I mean, if they are furnishing his home with other random stolen merchandise from Earth, he probably will be living with a bunch of mix-matched items that he has no idea what to do with. Although, my guess is that he will live like a regular human while the Tralfamadorian zoo go-ers stare and wonder how strange a race we truly are. They will probably laugh at the stupidity of Billy while he wonders what to do with himself.
That's just my guess anyways. With all the other material that has happened so far in Slaughterhouse-Five, it certainly wouldn't surprise me if Vonnegut went that route. However, Vonnegut foreshadowed the zoo for a reason. Perhaps he wants the reader to think that Billy will be a typical zoo animal, but that will not actually be the case. Perhaps he wants the reader to imagine Billy living like a zebra while the Tralfamadorians watch behind the glass and eat cotton candy. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. My mind is just running with possibilities of what will happen to Billy in the zoo. Vonnegut included the zoo to encourage the reader to develop possibilities, and I am now extremely anxious to find out just what will happen. Good job, Vonnegut. Now I have to read to find out.

King Croesus

In Chapter 3, Vonnegut continues his excellent allusions, anecdotes, diction, etc. On page 61, though, he takes his mastery one step further. He is able to mix an allusion with a simile at the same time. How is this possible? Because he's Vonnegut, that's why.
The quote I'm referring to is found in the middle of page 61, when Vonnegut refers to the rich life of Billy Pilgrim. The quote is, "[Billy] was rich as Croesus, something he had never expected to be, not in a million years." My first reaction after reading this sentence was, "Who is Croesus??? And why did Vonnegut refer to him? That's a nice simile though."
Consequently, I turned to Wikipedia. Wikipedia also describes Croesus' life as a very rich one, lived in extreme luxury as he ruled as King of Lydia of ancient Greece. He is credited with producing the circulation of the first gold coins in history. He is also famous for forming an alliance with Sparta during the Greek struggle against Persian onslaught. (I also learned that his name is not pronounced "crow-sus" and instead "cree-sus". It certainly still looks like Crow-sus to me, so that's what I'll call him from now on.)
Obviously, Vonnegut had a purpose in naming Crow-sus while describing Pilgrim's optometric riches. Netting $60 grand a year must have something to do with it. He also owned a share of a Holiday Inn and 3 Tastee-Freeze stands. But how is that comprable to a King of Lydia? The answer is that it's just a simile, so it doesn't have to be entirely accurate, but make a point that, in this case, Billy is much richer than he ever imagined an optometrist could be. Billy is living a life of luxury, and he is similar to Crow-sus because they both exceeded the typical living standards of other people in their respective cities and times.
So, with Vonnegut's epic allusion/simile combo of referencing Crow-sus, he is able to enthrall the reader with a connection to the ancient past. He also gives further explanation to just how extremely luxurious Billy's life was becoming.

Toto, We're Not in Wyoming Anymore

While reading chapter 3 of Slaughterhouse-Five, I noticed something quite interesting on pages 66 and 67. When Vonnegut briefly introduces a new character, Wild Bob, he attempts to characterize him as a stereotypical "Average Joe" from Wyoming. The best way that Vonnegut is able to characterize Wild Bob is with his dialect.
I felt that the best example of Wild Bob's dialect was on page 67 when he says, "'God be with you, boys!' he said, and that echoed and echoed. And then he said, 'If you're ever in Cody, Wyoming, just ask for Wild Bob!'"
Now, I may be alone when I say this, but I don't think, if I am ever on my deathbed, that one of the things I would say would be, "God be with you." I would hope I would have the strength and courage to do so, but I'm not positive that this phrase will come to my head. To me, this shows a great deal about Wild Bob. Clearly, Wild Bob is extremely grounded in his faith because he had the presence of mind to ask God's blessing upon these troops while struggling for his life with pneumonia.
To be honest, I have to admit that before reading this chapter, I did not really think at all about the state of Wyoming. The only reason I really know anything about the state is from 5th grade geography, when I learned that it's a rectangular shape and its capital is Cheyenne. (Although, to be fair, Wyoming probably thinks the same about Indiana, so I guess we're even steven.)I did not even know if there was a stereotype existed about the citizens. Therefore I was really taken aback when I read Vonnegut's generalization of the Wyoming-ans (Wyominites? Wyominians? Wyomingers? Whatever it is...) as a bit of a typical "Wild Wild West" citizen. What do I mean when I say that? Gosh, I wish I knew. The people aren't uneducated, but they have a slang of leaving out verbs in sentences- example: "'You one of my boys?'" (66). The people embrace the "cowboy" lifestyle- example: the University of Wyoming's mascot is the Cowboys. And, most importantly, the people are very friendly and center the lives around God's will- a perfect example is found in the quote from page 67: "'God be with you... just ask for Wild Bob!'"
Yes, I am aware of the stereotypes I just made about all Wyoming-ans. I know they aren't all like that, and would be offended if they were reading this. However, Wild Bob fits each of these stereotypes perfectly; for example, Wild Bob looks forward to barbecuing a whole steer when he returns home, even though he is dying.
So, I guess the question is: what is Vonnegut's purpose in the quote from page 67? I think Vonnegut included the character of Wild Bob as a way of generalizing all Wyoming-ans to continue the satire of SH-5, and also because he likes to attempt to reproduce the dialect from Wyoming and add some more humor to his book.
Wild Bob, "God be with you." Rest in peace.

From Gory to... Toy Story?

While reading Chapter Two of Slaughterhouse-Five, I had a sudden realization of a movie connection. I was able to connect a character of this book to a character of Toy Story. Yes, as foreshadowed by the picture above, I am connecting the life of Roland Weary to Sid Phillips, the toy bully.
 For example, on page 35, Vonnegut begins explaining the young life of Weary to begin to characterize him. The quote is, "It made Weary sick to be ditched. When Weary was ditched, he would find somebody who was even more unpopular than himself, and he would horse around with that person for a while, pretending to be friendly. And then he would find some pretext for beating the sh*t out of him."
This quote provides a reason for the motivation behind Weary's actions as a cruel, bullish person. Because Weary was unpopular as a child (due to his horrific, unavoidable aroma of bacon), he had to take out his anger on someone else. Weary was never satisfied with anyone's friendship, and he took out his grudge on innocent classmates. Consequently, from then on, Weary began to love torturing others in the most gruesome ways possible. (Exhibit A: the "triangular blade" he possesses would cause a wound to never close up. Yikes!)
And with his horrifying love of torturing others, he is very similar to Sid Phillips. Yes, I know, Sid was not necessarily a torturer of humans, but the point is still valid. Sid loved torturing toys, and he would not stop with a simple way of torture; instead, Sid opted for torture devices like "The Big One," to cause the largest explosion. Other examples of Sid Phillips' torture include performing a "double bypass brain transplant" surgery between his sister's Janie Doll and a pterodactyl, and he also took a magnifying glass to burn Woody's head. Clearly, this is one pretty messed up kid.
Weary and Sid have one main thing in common: a knack for painful torture. But Sid Phillips also had a reason for being so nasty: he must have been kicked out of summer camp. (I know this based on Hamm's comment of "They must have kicked him out of summer camp early this year.") Sid must have been angry because of the camp (or maybe just because he's an insane young psychopath) to take out his anger on his toys. In this way, he shares a bond with Roland Weary because each of the two takes out his anger on others and enjoy torturing with the most possible pain upon their victims. The two are each bullies, and I think there is a direct connection between them.

Sweating Bullets

A picture of Billy, "the filthy flamingo"

In Chapter 2, Vonnegut begins telling his "failure" of a story about Billy Pilgrim. Somewhere at about the midpoint, Pilgrim escapes a near-death situation in which he and the "Three Musketeers" are shot at by a marksman from across the street.
Vonnegut, being the great writer that he is, describes the situation on page 33 as, "The third bullet was for the filthy flamingo (Billy), who stopped dead center in the road when the lethal bee buzzed past his ear."
That is a superb example of the excellent diction of Vonnegut. First of all, he refers to Billy again as "the filthy flamingo" as a way for the reader to recall back to a few sentences prior. If he hasn't already hooked the reader's attention with his word choice of "filthy flamingo" (which he probably has), he is about to with his use of "the lethal bee buzzed past his ear." This amazing diction by Vonnegut reels in the reader to perfection. Hook, line, and sinker.
When I read "the lethal bee buzzed past his ear", I immediately had an image come to my head of a bullet whizzing just past his head while Billy's eyes instantly become approximately 7.829473% larger than their usual size. I then could hear a bee's distinct buzzing noise to culminate in an image of epic proportions. (I also had a sudden craving for Honey Nut Cheerios.) I had a picture in my head of what was going on along with a lingering "bzzzzzzz" in my ear. Vonnegut has produced an image appealing to the reader's senses of both sight and sound (and maybe a little to taste) at the same time with just one little choice of words.
If Vonnegut was a typical writer, he might have just said, "Billy narrowly escaped a bullet flying past his head." Yeah, but Vonnegut is no typical writer. His diction is clearly something worth noting and has been present throughout Chapters 1 and 2. Vonnegut's word choice is one-of-a-kind, much like a filthy flamingo. (I couldn't even find a picture on a Google search of "filthy flamingo")
Now that my blog is done, I am going to go feast on a divine bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, and maybe a Three Musketeers bar while I'm at it. So it goes.

Curse You, Google Translate

Posted above is a picture of the Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady) in Dresden, Germany. Kurt Vonnegut briefly alludes to this magnificent church in Chapter 1 of SH-5.  However, when I read through the paragraph he mentions it, I skipped over it.
While in the O'Hare household, Vonnegut finds Dresden, History, Stage and Gallery by Mary Endell. On page 18, Vonnegut quotes Goethe's response to finding ruins in Dresden: "Von der Kuppel der Frauenkirche sah ich diese leidigen Trummer zwischen die schone stadtische Ordnung hineingesat; da ruhmte mir der Kuster die Kunst des Baumeisters, welcher Kirche und Kuppel auf einen so unerwunschten Fall schon eingerichtet und bombenfest erbaut hatte. Der gute Sakristan deutete mir alsdann auf Ruinen nach allen Seiten und sagte bedenklich lakonisch: Das hat der Feind gethan!" Is it Gibberish? No, not quite. Could I say it five times fast? No, and I hope I never have to.
Like most non-German students, when I read this passage, I rolled my eyes and skipped over it, while praying he would define the words for me I was curious to learn the meaning of these words, but unable to do so by myself. So, I naturally (and unsuccessfully) turned to Google Translate for help. (Note: do not use Google Translate for such a long passage because it is less helpful that way)  When I eventually discovered the meaning, this is what I found: "From the dome of the Church of our Lady I saw this loathsome rubble amongst the beautiful urban orderliness; whilst the verger boasted to me about the art of the master builder who built this church and the dome to withstand such an undesired event by making it bomb-proof. The good verger then pointed to all the ruins around us and said, reflectively and laconically; 'It was the enemy who did that!'"
After reading the translation, I was able to discover Vonnegut's purpose in alluding to such an extensive quote from Endell's book. If he wanted, couldn't he have left out Goethe's quote in his own book? The answer is, no. Goethe's quote emphasizes the devastation caused in Dresden, but proves the beauty of the Frauenkirche was built to last forever. The quote also proves that Vonnegut was seemingly dedicated to writing  his "Dresden book" yet unable to do so. Vonnegut tried hard to write an entire book about Dresden, yet something in him was just not quite capable of doing so. This first chapter emphasizes the struggles Vonnegut encountered while trying to write this book, and this quote is a perfect example of his dedication.
As for me, I remain angry with Google Translate for making me go through so much trouble to find the correct translation. If Google Translate ever again makes me do extra summer work, I will say: "Das hat der Feind gethan!"

Anecdote

Well, here goes nothing. This is my first real blog post about Slaughterhouse-Five.
Before I start, I must say, I already like this book. Vonnegut's writing style totally crushes Charles Dickens' style by a landslide. I guess I'm trying to say that A Tale of Two Cities was nothing more than a real snore of a book and it was just too hard to understand what Dickens was saying. Slaughterhouse-Five, on the other hand, is completely easy to follow because Vonnegut's voice is heard throughout and it's very relatable to the present, especially the words he uses because they are actually used by people. (Unlike Dickens' "Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched..." in T2C for example, this book acutally makes sense! Also, note to self: look up the meaning of the word besmirched.)
Okay, now I think I'll actually start talking about this blog post. Maybe I went on a little segue in that little paragraph above, but I guess after reading a chapter of Vonnegut, one begins to imitate his anecdotes throughout Chapter One. (See what I did there?) As I said, Vonnegut seems to love to throw a boatload of short stories around in this opening chapter in order to piece the whole book together. One example of an anecdote is found on page 10 when Vonnegut says, "I happened to tell a University of Chicago professor at a coktail party about the raid as I had seen it, about the book I would write. He was a member of a thing called The Committee on Social Thought. And he told me about the concentration camps, and about how the Germans had made soap and candles out of the fat of dead Jews and so on. All I could say was, 'I know. I know. I know.'" Vonnegut uses this anecdote to explain examples of how it was "worse in the war" and also how the war made those who experienced the trauma first-hand seem "tougher" and know that things weren't quite as bad as they might seem. And, most importantly, the quote serves as an example of the many tangents Vonnegut would later use throughout the chapter.
Vonnegut's use of anecdotes also brings a much lighter and happy tone throughout the book as the reader is able to see Vonnegut's personal style shine throughout the text.
Well, that's my blog post about Chapter One. I hope I did this right. If I later read this one day and think, "Wow, what a great blog I wrote. I think I let my voice truly be heard in this post", then I guess I will have done my job. If not, well, I guess I still have more work to do this summer.

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