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A review by maxscunningham
Deadeye Dick by Kurt Vonnegut
3.0
DEADEYE DICK is the most heavy-handed and allegorical Vonnegut I've personally encountered. The premise is brutally straightforward and tragic: young Rudy Waltz, at the ripe age of 12, accidentally commits a double murder when he innocently fires a rifle through his upstairs window. His innocuous (but nothing in Vonnegut is ever truly innocuous) action sets up a ripple effect of tragic and utter loneliness for the rest of Rudy's life. His parents fall into complete shambles (have only been propped up on cheap inheritance money and stupidity prior), forcing Rudy to essentially remain a child who never grows up. He frequently refers to himself as a "neuter", a lonely and sexless creature who roams the world untouched. Fucking bleak.
As always though when it comes to Vonnegut, there's a great deal to mine here in his commentary on life, which is how the majority of his books feel. Gun rights, politics, the nature of artistic integrity, nuclear warfare, and growing government powers are all up for grabs, and it's pretty alarming how current many of the issues still feel. But unlike BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS or CAT'S CRADLE, the despair here seems directed with less nuance and a greater sense of hopelessness. That's not to say there's something inherently wrong with a tragedy, but many of the points made in DEADEYE DICK feel shallow and angry and sad, without the kind of nuanced and artistic subtext his other works have had. Rudy himself writes the book from the age of 50, feeling like "his story ended but his life carried on." Vonnegut himself was 60 years old when the book was published, and you can't help but feel he was writing from a place of deep, personal experience.
As always though when it comes to Vonnegut, there's a great deal to mine here in his commentary on life, which is how the majority of his books feel. Gun rights, politics, the nature of artistic integrity, nuclear warfare, and growing government powers are all up for grabs, and it's pretty alarming how current many of the issues still feel. But unlike BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS or CAT'S CRADLE, the despair here seems directed with less nuance and a greater sense of hopelessness. That's not to say there's something inherently wrong with a tragedy, but many of the points made in DEADEYE DICK feel shallow and angry and sad, without the kind of nuanced and artistic subtext his other works have had. Rudy himself writes the book from the age of 50, feeling like "his story ended but his life carried on." Vonnegut himself was 60 years old when the book was published, and you can't help but feel he was writing from a place of deep, personal experience.