BOOK REVIEW: “Cat’s Cradle” by Kurt Vonnegut (1963)

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I love Kurt Vonnegut for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is his irritation factor. Kurt loved to sort of bug people in ways they couldn’t really do much about. Much like Harlan Ellison, his real 24/7 job was basically being himself, and the writing flowed from that. Back in Indiana of the 1950s, for instance, Kurt started inviting black people to fancy dinner parties. Why? Well, lots of reasons, but in large part he’s admitted that he just liked to make his very white, very Midwestern hosts uncomfortable in a social surrounding where they couldn‘t do anything about it.


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