Kurt Vonnegut's new novel finds him on old ground. All his hallmarks are prominently here: the cute narrative manner belying an apocalyptic message (the end of the world is once again nigh); the little 'so it goes' tics of style (here an asterisk placed before the names of characters about to die); comic-scientific periphrasis (marriage is 'biologically significant copulation'). It's as if, having labelled himself a boring old fart, as he did in the prologue to Breakfast of Champions, Vonnegut had now decided to play the part for all it's worth. Fortunately, the old fart's bag of tricks still amuses. But I think I would have liked this novel more had it been the first of the author's that I'd read.

LRB 7 November 1985 | PDF Download