No one quite does no plot quite like Vonnegut. A blackly funny little book about the absolutely miserable experience of human existence, this’d be a depressing read if it wasn’t just so fucking funny. Set in “2001” (written in 1990) and the US has outsourced itself into a blakanized prison state run by an inbred (and dyslexic) ruling class that’s proud, dammit, proud to be living in the greatest country in the world! Vonnegut’s prose is more bizarre than usual (the scribblings of a condemned man on toilet paper, backs of envelopes, etc) and each individual thought is visually fragmented. And there’s this running gag of following up most thoughts with a summation and exclamation point as if advertising copy. (It’s fun to read!) I haven’t read one of K.V.’s books in a while – he still is a hoot.
