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A review by tommyhousworth
Palm Sunday: An Autobiographical Collage by Kurt Vonnegut
4.0
Reading Vonnegut is such a joyous experience, especially his autobiographical sketches, where you feel as if the man is just sitting with you, casually throwing off witticisms, deft observations, and sacred beliefs. It's you and Kurt, sharing a glass of lemonade under the shade of a grand willow tree for an afternoon.
Here, Kurt shares his thoughts on a cornucopia of subjects, from censorship and American politics (circa the '70's, mostly) to how and why jokes work. He pays homage to the author he is most indebted to (Mark Twain) and gives us insight into a few writers he knew over the years (Mailer, Irving, Buckley, Kerouac, Ginsburg).
Most enjoyable to me were his takes on writing and religion. He's an atheist who name drops God with reverence, a skeptic who still sees the world as nothing less than divine, and a writer who has reverence for his craft, but never so much as to presume that we all shouldn't give it a try, just to experience the joy of chasing the lightning and thunder that converges around the perfect sentence.
Of all my favorite writers, Vonnegut is the one I wish I had actually known. I can imagine him living next door, dropping by to borrow some kitchen gadget, and staying for a few hours to mesmerize me with thoughts both playful and profound.
Having now read "Palm Sunday", I feel as if he has dropped by a few times...and I'm a better neighbor for it.
Here, Kurt shares his thoughts on a cornucopia of subjects, from censorship and American politics (circa the '70's, mostly) to how and why jokes work. He pays homage to the author he is most indebted to (Mark Twain) and gives us insight into a few writers he knew over the years (Mailer, Irving, Buckley, Kerouac, Ginsburg).
Most enjoyable to me were his takes on writing and religion. He's an atheist who name drops God with reverence, a skeptic who still sees the world as nothing less than divine, and a writer who has reverence for his craft, but never so much as to presume that we all shouldn't give it a try, just to experience the joy of chasing the lightning and thunder that converges around the perfect sentence.
Of all my favorite writers, Vonnegut is the one I wish I had actually known. I can imagine him living next door, dropping by to borrow some kitchen gadget, and staying for a few hours to mesmerize me with thoughts both playful and profound.
Having now read "Palm Sunday", I feel as if he has dropped by a few times...and I'm a better neighbor for it.