Kurt Vonnegut was the author I read in high school when I wanted everyone to know I was reading. But then I started reading him at the beach, and in the bathtub, and in the middle of a college football stadium. He introduced ideas my little adolescent mind had never explored–war and it’s meaning (or lack thereof), sex, depression,the absurdities of life and joy. I reread him now, and when I do he shakes and revamps my political, ethical and moral views. So much of my literary self, or the literary self I aspire to become, is Kurt Vonnegut.
And now he is gone.
As Vonnegut would say–So it goes.