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kohlsamanda 's review for:
Just Like Someone Without Mental Illness Only More So
by Mark Vonnegut
At my most pathetic, when I felt lost and very sorry for myself and was no longer in charge of making breakfast and packing lunches for my boys, I set up a bird feeder on the ledge of my apartment overlooking a parking lot and no birds came.
This was... something. Mark Vonnegut's memoir had a lot of information and emotions and tragedy all wrapped up in a very dry way. This was a very human memoir, and very honest. Mark discussed his four psychotic breaks, his divorce, work, and his clearly troubled relationship with his absent father, Kurt Vonnegut.
It almost felt as if Mark Vonnegut sat down, wrote out a section of his life, and didn't sit down again until he thought of a different anecdote. Memories would end abruptly and an entirely new one would begin, with seemingly no connection to the original. Very small, random comments about Kurt Vonnegut were dispersed throughout the book, almost none of which were positive in nature.
This was a strange read because all of these big moments were written with a surprising lack of emotion. Mark Vonnegut may not like the comparison, but it very much reminded me of the same monotonous, apathetic way that Slaughterhouse-Five and Breakfast of Champions feel.