Acid test novelist: Kurt Vonnegut (1922-2007)

When I first encountered his writing during the fall of 1968 at the recommendation of a friend who was attending a college elsewhere in Indiana, Vonnegut was a breath of fresh air. I loved the sassiness, hipness, and dark humor of books. They had none of the pretentiousness of serious literature but were seriously satirical.

Besides, he was writing about the heartland of the neglected Midwest, at least at one point in each book. God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater nails the milieu and remains my favorite.

Overall, though, I feel an overarching nihilism negates a redemptive mission for his work. As for the gimmicks? Let’s just say this former favorite has shrunk in my estimation over the years.

Going ashore once again

Using what I had previously thought of as life boats was a common practice during the cruise.

Babson Island a wet landing
wearing Converse high tops sans socks
a mistake
lucky I don’t have blisters

a fine-shell beach
unlike any we have to the east
I know of

so here we are going ashore again
this time for lobster

Babson Island, Maine Coastal Heritage Trust

Our new upstairs front half takes shape

Do we need say how excited we’re feeling?

Let’s look at the continuing progress from the inside.

The northern half of our front upstairs with the small dormer still in place but the ceiling already gone.
And then with the plaster, lathing, and drywall gone.
We finally got to see what was between the stairwell and front. No hidden treasures or bodies, as it turned out. But we could finally see from one of the front bedrooms to the other.
A spate of wet weather presented a challenge on how to proceed with the “dustpan” dormer that was replacing the old roof line. The answer was by working under a large white tarp. Here you can see a new rafter going into place atop the new front exterior wall. The final old rafters and last bit of asphalt roofing are about to removed.
Here the new rafters are in place under the white tarp. Compare this in the south front bedroom to the first photo in this series.
The front upstairs interior stands free of obstruction apart from the old shell around the stairwell.

Next steps will be the roofing, foam insulation, windows, siding, trim, and flooring.

Can this really be happening?

When I saw this tee-shirt, I started drooling

Where, for heaven’s sake, would this place be? We don’t have a lot of options in our remote rim of Maine.

And then I was told the restaurant was a late and lamented site a block from my home, now reincarnated as an echo of the grill and bar next door. Only, perchance, a shade better.

Well, as a reaction, I did have an appropriate Greek slang expression I’d found earlier when researching background for my novel What’s Left, not that I’ll quote it here.

Employment is a big thread running through my fiction

In my parallel universe, my real-life life, newspapers were caught up in technological “advances” that kept setting us back. Those changes had started well before my sabbatical break, but they were speeding up. Back when I was starting, perforated teletype tape meant we really couldn’t edit stories we received from the Associated Press or United Press International or similar services. And then scanning of typewritten pages made improving even staff reports physically difficult. After that came the early stages of computer screens and keyboards, where editing took about three times longer than it had with a pencil – moving that cursor around took more effort, certainly, and computer crashes were commonplace. These were all matters that impacted the emerging story of Hometown News, though I believe anyone working in a large business office would have parallel experiences to relate.

We forget how much reliability our laptops and PCs have gained. Does anyone else remember losing a draft to a static electricity spark that then erased whatever was on your screen? Or, for that matter, when it was a bigger power outage?

I could detail the shifts from letterpress and hot type to pasteup and eventually pagination or from typewriters and linotype machines to early computers to, well, the digital devices we have today or from letterpress to offset printing and now digital editions skipping paper altogether.

Or similar leaps in photography, as we see in following Kenzie.

~*~

Paid work occupies a large part of most adult lives. Even when it doesn’t, how we handle our money, wealth, time, and so on is a highly emotional issue, no matter what the dismal science of economics insists. (For that line of useful inquiry, go to the Talking Money series on my Chicken Farmer I Still Love You blog.)

I just couldn’t create characters without their having jobs. Well, most of them – the hippie farm had some of dubious means.

Besides, so much of a typical male’s identity and life purpose is tied up in his job, especially when he can take pride in it. The job even defines his social circle.

I didn’t want to add another book about a hopeful writer to the literature. What a cliché. Or a musician or actor or even a painter. How about a plumber or fireman or circus clown?

But I still needed a witness figure for the history abstracted to fiction that was before me. I defaulted to using a photographer, in part because I had wished I had taken up a camera, if only I could have afforded the time and a darkroom, blah-blah-blah, and in part because I had been a serious visual artist in high school. You can see those elements developing in Daffodil Uprising and later coming together in What’s Left, but they also play out in Pit-a-Pat High Jinks and Subway Visions. I’m a highly visual guy in my awareness and thinking, OK? The fact he was employed at a newspaper is one part I couldn’t evade.

I still value novelists who manage to set their story outside of the writing world, and that includes universities. Charles Bukowski gets points for me for his novel Post Office. Well, I guess that’s also where genres kick in, too. They’re about detectives and spacemen and billionaires and cowboys and so on.

Photojournalist? At the time of the first draft of Subway Hitchhikers, I didn’t have any models to draw from, but that quickly changed. I wound up working with some of the best in the business.

Over time, photography, the kind that required light meters and F-stops and film and darkrooms, became ancient history. That part I would have to intensely rework and explain as my books underwent revision, thanks to Cassia in What’s Left.

In contrast, Hometown News was primarily about work. I had no problem in this case where everything took place at a newspaper plant, though the economics of the surrounding community also emerged as a central thread.

Jaya became a more difficult case. Her career in the early drafts was drawn from my newspaper offices and hours, now vaguely abstracted to management in general. It would get more specific in the revised titles, where she specializes in nonprofits management. It’s a real job description in a major component of the economy. For that flash of inspiration, I could look to one neighbor in Dover and the impact she had statewide in peace and social justice matters.