When I was 5-years-old, my father invited me to sit down and watch a movie with him on TV. It was Slaughterhouse-Five, which had run in theatres a few years before in '72. I was fascinated with the random montage of the storyline. My father was impressed that I grasped it and didn't ask for any plot clarification. Looking back, I believe that to be the defining moment that destined me to a lifetime of leaning toward the odd and the different, of seeking out the intelligent and the messenger, whether in movies, literature, or music.
Enter adolescence. Being both a bookworm and the "weird girl", I naturally went on a Vonnegut run at the library at some point. I selected Slaughterhouse-Five from the shelf, thinking "Hmm, this sounds familiar." Just as I had at age 5, I fell into the story all over again, albeit with a higher level of understanding. I was amazed by Vonnegut's brilliance, how he took what might have been the typical "retrospective look at one man's life as representative of his entire generation", and turned it into something like you'd never read before.
As is often the case with genius, Mr. Vonnegut suffered from depression, and had attempted suicide in recent years. I hope he has found peace, and I hope he left knowing that he's left his immortal stamp on the face of 20th century literature. I just wonder...is Mr. Vonnegut really gone? Or did he get whisked off by his friends, the Tralfamadorians?
Rest in peace, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
~ Katrina S.