never read any vonnegut until this week. snagged Al’s old copy of Cat’s Cradle from our bookshelves before hopping the plane to Hawaii to visit her parents.
this passage appears on page 124:
“She improvised around the music of the music of the Pullman porter’s son; went from liquid lyricism to rasping lechery to the shrill skittishness of a frightened child, to a heroin nightmare.
Her glissandi spoke of heaven and hell and all that lay between.”
i believe that is beautiful writing. as to the rest of it. i’m still on the fence with vonnegut. a little too much quirk without any real humanity. or maybe people my age can’t understand what it was like when his writing first appeared on the shelves, critiquing the world and toying with mankind. either way. it was alright. but i’m already on to Nicole Krauss. and she’s good.
Read::Zebra 
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