Books and Trees and Trees and Books

Yesterday I read Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut. It was an interesting book that followed a man who was rich beyond reason, lost all his wealth, and then traveled to Mars, Mercury, Earth, and then Titan (a moon orbiting Saturn). 

It is a fantastical tale that really puts under the microscope the idea of purpose, free will, intelligence, conformity, and the burden of intelligence. It was fairly alright, in my estimation.

Today I read Mother Night, also by Vonnegut. This book I would rate much higher. 

It is the fictional account of a Nazi Propagandist during World War 2 who is living in Germany. However, he doesn't really believe in his propaganda and is working as an American Spy. The book opens with him in a prison in Jerusalem years after the war but just before being tried for his alleged war crimes. He then details what exactly led him to his current predicament.

The main quote or moral that the whole book seems to revolve around comes in the Introduction:

"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."

Both the trouble and the absolute brilliance of Vonnegut is that he sets up profound wisdom with whimsy. The whimsy clouds your vision for most of the story. But then with he unwraps that whimsy and shows that it was profound wisdom all along and it hits you like a hammer. What seems muddled quickly becomes poignant and with tremendously accurate precision in burrows inside of your mind and festers. 

In other words, I can't stop thinking about his books. Tomorrow (erm, today) I head out with Patrick to go camping. I was planning on bringing along my Kindle to start Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance but I have this tickling feeling that I will instead read another Kurt Vonnegut book.

If you ever decide to pick up one of his works, know that it might take a couple attempts to get invested. The first time I picked up a book it took me three tries to even realize it was satirical in nature. That particular book was Cat's Cradle, which I absolutely love. It took me those three tries to appreciate it though.

He has a certain voice that is unique to him and very palatable once you get a taste for it.

Anyway. I am eager to camp. I am hopeful for stars. I am adamant about creating fire even in the face of torrents, should there be torrents. I am craving the silence that only the wilderness creates.

There is something about reading a wonderfully fine book that makes me feel poetic.

As I close, I must ask. What are all of your favorite books? Maybe not your top favorite but one, two, or of your favorites.

I find I have trouble committing to the next book to read but rather I'm enjoying the inspiration to read a book from a wide wealth of options before me. In that spirit, I'd love to add to me list any books you all have personally treasured in your life. And Dad, no fair saying Needful Things as that is already what I read before bed each morning.

Until next time!

-Bradley