Is there anything better than a Kurt Vonnegut book? Nope. Not even when it’s a collection of speeches/articles written over twenty years ago when Cold War destruction coul have happened at any moment, which is what Fates Worse Than Death is. He calls it an autobiographical collage, which is a form I like. He veers between optimism and pessimism, about how everything’s going wrong and could go right if we weren’t so lazy and cheap. He talks about Indianapolis and about chemistry and about war and even Mozambique.
Whenever I read a Vonnegut book I want to go out and read another and another and another. But I don’t. I’m pacing myself. The guy’s dead and there’s only a finite amount of his stuff for me to find for the first time.