The way I would describe this book would be as a work of art. It’s simple yet confusing. It is not for everyone. It can make you sad, happy, relaxed, or even angry.
I find the book a narrative, not something with a plot. With the way the timeline is, it feels like small clips being put together and connected to each other. The way Vonnegut described emotions and, what some think was, PTSD. How he created Tralfalmadore as a way to escape reality because, who would really be abducted with a ex-pornstar, it is kind of a stretch, even for science fiction writers. On Tralfalmadore was the only way Billy could be satisfied with his life, and he was able to relax a little. I feel that Vonnegut created it by being genuine because, he sort of felt alienated after the war, and wanted to share how stupid it felt to be back home after the war.
Vonnegut created a fictional character by looking at his war experience in the third person. I think he alienated himself from those feelings by doing that. Vonnegut was a very intelligent man and, he wasn’t going to let war mess with his mind, instead, he would be messing with ours.
The hardest part that I found with this book was: separating the author from the story, like I’ve said before, I have a hard time believing that any part of this story is true. Meanwhile when reading The Color Purple I had to remind myself that it was just a story, every time I had an assignment on it.
I would of liked to know what Vonnegut was feeling when he wrote the book, when he messed with our minds, when he decided to scramble the timeline, and if somedays were worst than the others. If one day he could write to his heart’s content, and another where he couldn’t even see what he was writing. I also would of liked to know what Mrs. O’Hare had to say about the book. And if he ever became a pillar of salt again. He brought light to a massacre not many people thought about, let alone talk about it, like what he said, “Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds. And what do birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like ‘Poo-tee-weet?’” He became the bird, the bird he heard all of those years ago.