Adapted from an in-class essay: 2011 Kurt Vonnegut, as a former prisoner of war during the bombing of Dresden in World War II (WWII), knows death. Vonnegut’s Billy Pilgrim, who is “unstuck in time” as a soldier during WWII, a husband at home, and a zoo display on an alien planet simultaneously, also knows death. Vonnegut, in his novel Slaughterhouse-Five, uses instances of death in Billy’s life to demonstrate that one need not be stirred by death; his view of death is passive, yet accepting in that death is inevitable. Vonnegut begins his novel with a familiar story from the Bible: God tells Lot and his wife to leave their city and not look back, but Lot’s wife looks and is turned to a pillar of salt. Vonnegut tells the story, then says “So it goes” (Vonnegut 27-28). Thus, Vonnegut introduces the scope of his novel with one of the earliest deaths in Christian history. Vonnegut comments on the wife’s human mistake, but does not show sympathy or emotion at her death. In another window of time, Vonnegut writes, “[Billy’s] wife died accidentally of carbon-monoxide poisoning. So it goes” (31). He does not make any other comment on this death, either. Even in a novel, a death is important. It makes the reader feel and mourn. Vonnegut, however, shows no emotion and merely states death as a fact, as another part of the story. He is not selectively passive. Vonnegut treats all deaths in his book the same way; he describes them, then writes “so it goes.” All deaths in the book are inevitable and equal, even in extreme measures. As he describes the Nazis, he mentions the German candles and soap “made from the fat of rendered Jews and Gypsies and fairies and communists, and other enemies of the state.” Vonnegut merely interjects his familiar phrase: “So it goes.” (122) Vonnegut later reveals, through a conversation with aliens, that a single alien destroys the entire universe with the push of a button. “So it goes” (149). Thus, he again widens the scope of his novel; he begins with individual deaths, one from hundreds of years ago and one from the present, then tells of the deaths of millions in the mid-1900s and the eventual destruction of the entire universe. Vonnegut, however, treats each radically different situation with the same passive, simple words. This comparison shows that he views each death as ultimately inevitable and of equal importance as the others, regardless of size, cause, or consequence. Vonnegut’s comparisons seem wild, but he explores interesting questions: Should humans accept death as part of nature, and not as something entirely sad? Do circumstances surrounding death make certain incidents worse than others? Is it human nature to mourn or is death devastating because society has constructed it to be so? Although these questions may not have definitive answers, Vonnegut forces his readers to confront a fact most choose to ignore: we all die in the end—it is merely a matter of time, place, and circumstance. I don’t believe Vonnegut, with his experience in war, felt nothing when experiencing the deaths of those around him. I do believe, however, that he had come to realize that death is not the definitive moment of someone’s life. Vonnegut died in 2007 (“Kurt Vonnegut Biography”), but his death does not define him. If he were to describe it, I believe he would say “so it goes.” "Kurt Vonnegut Biography — Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library." Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library. N.p., n.d. Web. 20 Oct. 2013. Vonnegut, Kurt. Slaughterhouse-five or The children's crusade: a duty-dance with death. New York: Dial Press Trade Paperbacks, 2009.
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Adapted from an in-class essay: 2012 In society, a set of rules, as ridiculous as some may be, governs the way people act and speak. Mark Twain, as quite possibly the greatest American satirist throughout the course of literary history, examines these social norms to reveal how silly they really are. In “At the Funeral” from An Unfinished Burlesque of Books on Etiquette, Twain writes to express the humor he finds in ridiculous, yet common, rituals at funerals, but also to reveal a yearning in humanity for order and control. True satire connects with human nature; that is, something is only humorous, ironic, or successfully and productively critical if it connects with people, if it touches something in them. Twain knows this well. Throughout this text, Twain consistently writes sentences in an imperative mood, intentionally addressing his audience directly. Thus, as he tells the reader exactly what to do and what not to do at a funeral, he relates common etiquette to the reader’s own life experiences. He writes, “Listen, with an intense an expression as you can command…” and “At the moving passages, be moved—but only according to the degree of your intimacy with the parties giving the entertainment…” Twain’s style fits his purpose. The reader has the opportunity to recall personal experiences, whether at a funeral or not, that he has had to pretend politeness or be specifically aware of his actions so as not to be overly intimate or under-appreciative. This, in turn, creates humor at the expense of the reader’s own hypocrisy, subtly reminding him that he is no different than every other human playing the political game of etiquette. In the same effect, Twain knows how to push the limits of propriety in a way that then emphasizes human need for this etiquette. He often uses language seems completely misplaced and inappropriate in a discussion of funerals. He repeatedly refers to the ceremony as entertainment: “Do not criticize the person in whose honor the entertainment is given.” Is it really appropriate to call a funeral “entertainment”? No, but this irony is exactly what gives Twain his satiric leverage. The elaborate ceremony and decorations parallel that of a party or celebration, and are expected at the funeral. To cope with death, or at least to please those who are, humans turn to etiquette: flower-giving, party food, and program order. People crave a sense of order and control, even if it is only through polite ritual, when life is disorderly and out of control. This is reminiscent of Twain’s beginning chapters of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, in which the abandoned child, Huck, is living with “the widow.” She makes him say prayers, wear clean and pressed clothing, and follow schedules everyday. Before he eats, Huck thinks to himself, “That is, nothing [was the matter] only everything was cooked by itself. In a barrel of odds and ends it is different; things get mixed up and the juice kind of swaps around, and the things go better” (6). The widow, alone and craving for something to make polite and orderly, tries to civilize Huck. Huck, though, is young, relatively innocent, and craves reality, which is completely apart from etiquette. He doesn’t say prayers, wear nice clothing, or follow schedules because, to him, this is not reality, but a facade. He sees right through the widow because she is caught by worldly ritual and he is not. He likes when “things get mixed up.” Just as in “At the Funeral,” Twain provides a medium that is relatable and also quite improper to show people their own humanity. Huck is this medium. Although a funeral seems the last place to find satire, Twain uses this satire to show us the result of our insecurities and need for organization: etiquette. Although etiquette and manners may be necessary to ensure that we do not offend others, Twain reminds us that we should also think about why we do what we do; sometimes, we are just silly. Twain, Mark. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. New York, N.Y.: Barnes & Noble, 2003. Print. Twain, Mark, and Bernard Augustine Voto. "An Unfinished Burlesque of Books on Etiquette: At the Funeral." Letters from the earth: uncensored writings. New York: Perennial Classics, 2004. 75. Print. |
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