There haven't been any writers like Kurt Vonnegut. Many have imitated him, but only he knew how to make a satire that explored American capitalism and indulgence in such absurd and simple language. With "Breakfast of Champions," he created a text that was audacious in spite of its soporific formatting as it explored a world where humanity was now mostly robots and the two people who navigated the world noticed the crumbling world around them. What the book lacks incoherent plot, it more than makes up for with an entertaining look into madness, finding Vonnegut exploring just what it means to be an artist, and how the world's miseries shouldn't keep him from trying to produce art.
On average, the passages that makeup Vonnegut's novel are broken up into paragraphs that often read as tangential. He creates a thought long enough to entertain the reader but maybe doesn't serve to the bigger plot in obvious ways. There's a discussion of how the world has changed, discussing things as banal as what human sphincters look like. He is juvenile, but also finds a way to discuss prescient topics like the national anthem at sporting events have a deeper meaning. The unity is falling apart, so what is the point to order? It's a world dominated by capitalism and sex, where everyone is defined by their bodies and less by what they contribute to the world. For over 200 pages, it manages to rummage around in ideas, hoping to find deeper meaning and sometimes not getting there. Maybe that is the point, but it's also quite confusing why the book is considered to be one of his most revered, especially with how radical protester and edgy the themes get at times.
In the scheme of things, Vonnegut has said that this is one of his least favorite of his works, at one point rating it a D. This isn't to say that he was out of ideas (audiences sure didn't think so), but it definitely was one that was more ideas than plot, serving as a stream-of-consciousness for perverts. The book was accompanied on almost every page by art, detailing everything from mundane ideas like flags to how abstract buildings looked. The world that Vonnegut has created feels drawn by a juvenile hand or one that requires a lot of imagination. Maybe the plot functions best in the same way, especially as it hits a few snags along the way.
With that said, Vonnegut is never not entertaining and knows how to make the audience feel engaged with every last thought he has. It helps that his prose pops off the page and gives plenty to think about. It's science fiction, but certain things feel only slightly removed from the contemporary setting. However, the book is also at best a problematic look into the mind of an artist. On one hand, it's a story that ends with the author having remorse for his creation as it dies before him. The final pages are filled with Vonnegut's Kilgore Trout crying as the words "Etc." (the book's belief that life never truly ends) precede him. However, if this is to be taken as a personal account, it becomes a bit tricky to judge why Vonnegut's hyper-masculine tale is too much of a boy's club. The women that are in here are reduced to sexual stereotypes, and he's not afraid to use certain language regarding supporting black characters. Is it all to be read as satire of some bigger message, or is it just Vonnegut's inherent racism in a very unformed novel? It's hard to say. Still, it raises as much questions as it answers, and that's the beauty of "Breakfast of Champions."
For those wanting to get into Vonnegut, odds are that this is not a great place to start. While it has a lot of entertaining and humorous moments, it doesn't really have any conventional sense. Vonnegut has been praised for his esoteric approach to writing, but this is among his strangest work. It exists in a dystopia, but also in a meta-commentary on art. There's a sense of misery in the comedy, and his reliance on juvenile concepts are both distracting and fit the silly world he has created. Still, as an author who claimed that this book was a gift to himself for turning 50, it feels like he's dealing with a lot of ideas that never come together. It's a series of drafts that are fascinating on their own, but probably don't make a lot of sense together. It has something to say, but then it just goes away for awhile. It's fine as a novel, though it leaves a lot more to be desired.
No comments:
Post a Comment