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Faulking Around - Sep 27, 2004 - Printable Version
- "The Secret Vonnegut Society" or "Subversion as an Art Form"
by Mark Faulk
A few months ago, my then fourteen year old daughter asked me about my favorite author of all time, Kurt Vonnegut. She had attended the lecture he gave at Oklahoma City University a few years ago (with my oldest daughter and myself), and I remember telling her at the time "You might not know much about him now, but in a few years, you'll be telling everyone you were here". She read the short story "Harrison Bergeron" just before we went, and we came away inspired and enthralled. It's true that I've read a few online "reviews" of the speech that were less than flattering, but that reflects a lot more on the lack of vision of the reviewers than Vonnegut's performance. He was brilliant, they are morons. So, onward and upward: I've been "joking" that every time I turn around, I do something subversive, and this time was no different. At the age of fourteen, it was "time". My daughter was ready to be initiated into the world that belongs only to Kurt Vonnegut and those who have truly experienced him, the world of Wampeters, Fomas, and Granfalloons. There exists a secret society of Vonnegut devotees: either you "get it", or you don't. If you don't, well, don't bother calling those of us who do, or for that matter, don't even talk to us. And you can forget about learning the secret society handshake (here's a clue, it has nothing to do with hands, or physical contact of any kind, for that matter, so you can only imagine what you're missing out on). In other words, Vonnegut himself is a "Wampeter", which in Vonnegutese is defined as "an object such as the Holy Grail which is the focus of a karass , that is, around which the lives of many otherwise unrelated people may revolve."
As I was saying, it was time. I carefully sifted through my Vonnegut library, some were old and dog-earred (as in, "almost as old as I am"), but most had been replaced many times over, loaned out to friends and family, never to be seen again. It didn't matter, it was reward enough to know that I had initiated some formerly unsophisticated neophyte into The Vonnegut Society. I considered the possibilities: Jailbird? No, a bit too leftfield for the uninitiated. Sirens of Titan? Too science fiction for the first read.
Finally, I settled on the "Classic".
Slaughterhouse-Five.
I pulled it down, dusted it off, and gingerly handed it to my daughter. She took it to her room and closed the door. As much as I wanted to go in every half hour and ask, "Do you get it?", or "Isn't he the BEST writer eeeevver?", or maybe even a simple "What part are you reading now?", I knew instinctively that the first Vonnegut Experience was an intensely private affair. I kept my distance, pacing the floor like an expectant father. She read the book in less time than it takes many mothers to give birth. That was a good sign.
When the door opened and she came out, I was afraid to ask the question. Was she one of "us", or would I be doomed to an eternity of living with a daughter that I couldn't relate to on any level whatsoever? I scarcely dared to breath. Did she like it, or more to the point: did she "love" it?
We looked at each other, and she said simply, "I loved it. Which one should I read next?" It was a wonderfully bonding moment. There would be no need for a paternity test after all. Okay, she's pretty much exactly like me (but in a good way), so that was never an issue, but this isn't the time for understatement.
I handed her the copy of Slapstick which I had been anxiously clutching, gave her a two minute synopsis, complete with hand gestures and Vonnegutesque social commentary, and she disappeared back into her room. My daughter was growing up.
All was right with the world, my job as a father was complete. I was a rousing success. Or so I thought. Unfortunately, there's one more point I haven't covered yet: the "subversive" act I mentioned earlier. I had heard about the infamous "banned books list", a list compiled by the American Library Association (that bastion of subversion) to draw attention to the books that many cities, school boards, and various other right-thinking entities had banned from their midst in an effort to protect us from the dangers of "creative thinking". A good friend of mine emailed me this year's list, and there, along with The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, Brave New World, Lord of the Flies, and, inexplicably, Where's Waldo?, was Slaughterhouse-Five.
I had unknowingly corrupted my own daughter, tainted her, doomed her to a life of politically incorrect viewpoints, or, as I like to call it, "enlightened her". Good for me. She is one of us, and all the bombastic demagoguery in the world can't subvert her now. Hi ho.
And that, my fellow Vonnegutians, is the Faulking Truth.
"An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all." - Oscar Wilde
Editor's Note: This is the American Library Association's "Banned Book Week", from September 25th to October 1st. Read a Banned Book today! To see the list of "The 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books Of 1990-2000" (or, if you prefer, "The Must-Read List"), go to http://www.ala.org/ala/oif/bannedbooksweek/bbwlinks/100mostfrequently.htm
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