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A review by stewreads
Palm Sunday by Kurt Vonnegut
4.0
I consider Kurt Vonnegut one of my closest friends. It's a shame that I'll never meet him.
Ever since I read Slaughterhouse-Five, my first Vonnegut book, I've been hooked. I have literally wasted entire paychecks on nothing but Vonnegut. I have all of his novels, short stories, nonfiction, speeches, everything. I even have a Slaughterhouse t-shirt which I will wear religiously in college in search of new friends with common interests. After reading 3 Vonnegut novels in no apparent order, I decided to start at the beginning and work my way to the end of his stuff to fully appreciate all of the small details and references. Reluctantly, I made my way to Palm Sunday.
I say reluctantly because sometimes reading nonfiction isn't very fun. The last nonfiction Vonnegut I read was Wampeters, Foma, and Granfalloons which was interesting but overall random and far from memorable. This book, however, was nothing like that. Each of these 19 chapters deals with a different topic, giving the author a chance to rant for however long he wants about anything from sex to religion to World War II (lots of WW2). While this isn't always entertaining (the genealogy chapter was tedious and the religion chapter was kind of upsetting), it usually is. I would say about 14-15 of the 19 chapters in this book were very good, which is more than enough for the four stars I give it.
The best thing about Vonnegut's nonfiction, though, is the tone. It really feels like you're sitting down with him and talking over dinner and card games, (sign me up, yo) and he holds a great conversation. Can't wait to see just how grumpy he gets by the end of his career.
I'm sitting here, looking at my bookshelf. 26 Vonnegut books. I've read 12 already. I only have so much more time left to spend with my friend.
P.S. I blew through this 300 pager in a day and a half. Go me!
Ever since I read Slaughterhouse-Five, my first Vonnegut book, I've been hooked. I have literally wasted entire paychecks on nothing but Vonnegut. I have all of his novels, short stories, nonfiction, speeches, everything. I even have a Slaughterhouse t-shirt which I will wear religiously in college in search of new friends with common interests. After reading 3 Vonnegut novels in no apparent order, I decided to start at the beginning and work my way to the end of his stuff to fully appreciate all of the small details and references. Reluctantly, I made my way to Palm Sunday.
I say reluctantly because sometimes reading nonfiction isn't very fun. The last nonfiction Vonnegut I read was Wampeters, Foma, and Granfalloons which was interesting but overall random and far from memorable. This book, however, was nothing like that. Each of these 19 chapters deals with a different topic, giving the author a chance to rant for however long he wants about anything from sex to religion to World War II (lots of WW2). While this isn't always entertaining (the genealogy chapter was tedious and the religion chapter was kind of upsetting), it usually is. I would say about 14-15 of the 19 chapters in this book were very good, which is more than enough for the four stars I give it.
The best thing about Vonnegut's nonfiction, though, is the tone. It really feels like you're sitting down with him and talking over dinner and card games, (sign me up, yo) and he holds a great conversation. Can't wait to see just how grumpy he gets by the end of his career.
I'm sitting here, looking at my bookshelf. 26 Vonnegut books. I've read 12 already. I only have so much more time left to spend with my friend.
P.S. I blew through this 300 pager in a day and a half. Go me!