Armageddon in Retrospect – JT Hillier

Book Review >>> JT Hillier Armageddon in Retrospect

Vonnegut, Kurt New York: Penguin Group, 2008. 232 pp.

The late-great, Kurt Vonnegut was truly a refreshing oddity by any literary standard, to put it bluntly. Time and time again, he eased the weary hearts of his readers even in the midst of the most unnervingly turbulent of times. Yet, he managed to do so in spite of—or maybe thanks to—his unflinching impulse to shake things up even more tumultuously; and his readers could never seem to get enough of it. Knowing this, Berkley Books promptly released this posthumous assembly of formerly unpublished texts, Armageddon in Retrospect, in which a less-than vintage Vonnegut subjects himself whole-heartedly to his preferred themes of choice: war and peace. Thematically, the essence comes through about as Vonnegutian as could be expected, with no real surprises. However, subtle aspects within the fictional short stories featured prove to be relatively unfamiliar to all of his readers, ranging from the most devoted of Vonnegut buffs, to those lucky first-timers who have never heard of Tralfamadore, ice-nine, or those three, now infamous words: “So it goes.” The first of such ingredients is the most personal, authentically human undertone of any of Kurt’s released works. The novel opens with a heartfelt and poignant introduction provided by Kurt’s only son, Mark Twain Vonnegut, a fine novelist in his own distinct echelon. And bound by the tricky circumstance of aiming to write, literally, in the shadow of his own iconic father, he could have justifiably cracked under the pressure. Instead, he thrived with class, brevity and humility while offering very personal insight for a man characterized by book covers with bold faced V’s, iconic and archetypal titles, and his utterly distinctive authorial identity, which can often fall subject to predisposed dismissal or the superficial glorification of his work. Mark, known also for his work The Eden Express, exposes a human perspective of this cherished humanist: revealing his flaws, admitting his insecurities, and ultimately pointing out how Vonnegut the man and Vonnegut the author were, believe it or not, one in the same. “He was the least wild-and-crazy guy I ever knew. No drugs. No fast cars” (6). Kurt’s unswerving lack of confidence is also alluded to in several passages, “He worried that every good idea he got might be his last and that any apparent success he had had would dry up and blow away” (3) Mark recollects his father’s initial struggles with publishing, his trivial mannerisms and charmingly complex character traits. One excerpt describes a very brief stint in the mid-1950’s when his father was employed by Sports Illustrated. He was asked to write a short piece on a racehorse that apparently jumped over a picket fence, then tried running away. After waking hours, staring at a blank sheet of paper he eventually concluded, “The horse jumped over the [explicit] fence,” (5) then, calmly set it on his editor’s desk and left, self-employed again. Perhaps the most fist-pumping Vonnegut moments in this collection emerge in his speech at Clowes Hall in Indiana, which proved to be his last. Also presented by his son

Mark (which he mentions in the introduction as well), the speech, which took place just weeks after his death in April of 2007, displays his two best strengths: relevance and hilarity. At times, you can practically hear the audience’s laughter from punch line to punch line. From knocking semi-colons as “transvestite hermaphrodites that represent exactly nothing” (22) to praising Karl Marx; he fearlessly bounces from subject to subject (honestly, at times he sounds like an adaptation of Andy Rooney with a violent strand of A.D.D.). Always keeping our attention Vonnegut’s content ranges from the most commonly trivial remark to those touching, insightful epiphanies pulled from the deepest roots of his wisdom. And this unsystematic nature was precisely what made him so charming. As his son put it, “Where oh where is my dear father going? And then he would say something that cut to the heart of the matter and was outrageous and true, and you believed it partly because he had just been talking about celibacy and twerps and snarfs.” (9) The letters and essays in this collection prove to be rather solid, yet there are a few duds in this bunch. All in all, there are 11 short stories, scattered side notes, and quirky illustrations; and all of them, while they are entrenched with the presence of war, simply exploit the side-effects of wartime as a mechanism to expose the struggle of the human experience, similarities and differences, strengths and weaknesses in the fabric of human character. “Guns Before Butter,” is a bright spot, a mild flavored, easy-to-read character sketch, focusing on several starving American prisoners of war surveyed by their German prison guard. A common yearning for food unites the captives and their guards, while the plot’s forebodingly comical dialogue, as the context rarely strays away from the subject of entrees, pancakes and the occasional cigarette drag, epitomizes the common societal struggle in Germany at this time in European history. “The Commandant’s Desk” offers a less inviting take on some of the same themes. It epitomizes the deprecating impact of war on anything that is genuinely virtuous, or prideful. It is focused on a Czech carpenter and his daughter, who have endured in their moral inclinations despite unbecoming Nazi and Soviet activity in World War II. The true definition of a patriot, the Czech plans on commemorating his country’s escape from tyranny when Allied forces move in across the street, following their success. Yet, this proves to be drenched in irony, as the carpenter is scrutinized for unwarranted association with the Axis Powers (after openly admitting to building furniture for them during their stay). Knowing this, the new American commander also wants furniture from the Czech, specifically a flamboyant desk decorated with an American eagle. It is one of the few narratives in the collection that recite directly from the perspective of a bystander of war, civilian innocents, and calls attention to the effect war unlawfully projects upon them, regardless of one’s intention or moral cause. Another recurring feature in the layout of these texts is the blind ambition of American soldiers, who serve as fervent pawns within the ‘grander’ scheme of war and its demands. In one piece, entitled “Wailing Shall Be in All the Streets,” an officer depicts a typical conversation between German inhabitants and his blood-drunk comrades. Vonnegut writes, “Germans would ask, ‘Why are you Americans fighting us?’ ‘I don’t know, but we’re sure beating the hell out of you,’ was a stock answer” (34). This narrative focuses on the desolate destruction of Dresden shortly after the American Fire Bombing raid and was simultaneously the most direct inspiration for Vonnegut’s most successful work, Slaughterhouse-Five. In this narrative, the commentary swells with guilt and remorse on a very personal level, illustrating a scene in which many of the details prove to be too morbid to take out of context.

A wackier piece, “Great Day” incorporates the collection’s first science fiction elements, portraying a future society in which there is only one army that handles all matters of conflict in the world (which seems to be very little). This army, consisting essentially of spineless high school drop outs, inspires a war-crazed Lt. to simulate a holographic battle site from World War I. This experiment goes awry, however, as a malfunction leaves the soldiers indefinitely ‘unstuck in time’, superimposed in an endless debacle between two disasters. While the story has many holes within the plot, it illustrates a memorable picture and depicts the impracticality of peace in a world in love with warfare. The most moving of these short stories has to be the painfully vulnerable “Happy Birthday, 1951.” Of all the stories it proves to be the most simplistic structurally,, thematically, and logistically, which makes it so smoothly understandable. It prototypes the embodiment of war and peace, ignorance and wisdom, and paradoxically clashes these two opposing ideals characteristically. When a war-sick old man in postwar Germany tries to teach a six-year-old boy the ways of the world, on a day that the old man elects to call the boy’s ‘birthday,’ he bestows upon him the gift of taking him away from the war and into the forest. All the while, he finds that the little boy shows no interest in nature and instead spends the day saluting soldiers as they pass by, and playing in imaginary tanks. Its understated, minimalist diction leaves the reader in a haze of inexplicable disappointment. While the promise of Armageddon in Retrospect should certainly be made aware of; realistically, it must be clarified that this work may not be a final curtain call. Nor should it be assumed this is ‘the last breath of Kurt Vonnegut’, taking into consideration the not-so-subtle promptness of this publication’s release, only a year after his death, suggesting a slight touch of opportunism at work. Also, I must point out that these works are in all likelihood not ancient artifacts. It is no secret that the man was still writing good stuff, even into his eighties. These are still relevant pieces, nevertheless the sheer reality that none of these pieces are dated diminishes my own, profound hope beyond hope that Kurt had them shoved in a desk drawer way back in the 1950’s, or a hyperbaric chamber marked “Give this to my minions when I’m dead and gone. I promise its great stuff. So it goes. –Jr.” Honestly, if Kurt wanted these published, he probably would have done so himself. He may have even considered some of these works to be drafts as a number of the themes and character names can be found in other works he published on his own accord. These assumptions are far from certainties and hair- splitting conjectures are beside the point. In due course, this anthology is an appropriate and fitting work for Kurt Vonnegut, which belongs on the same shelf as Cat’s Cradle, Slaughterhouse-Five and Mother Night. It’s a must read for true Vonnegut cohorts, but for the newbies, I would suggest this as a not-so-urgent priority comparatively with his body of work. And the small moments of his hackwork that do exist in this collection, still prove to be some pretty brilliant drivel. Thanks for another one Kurt, we miss you already.