It would appear that Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday.
I have very fond memories of Kurt Vonnegut as probably the first author I got really into. His books were easy to read, easy to digest, often very funny, and always interesting. The autobiographical nature of a lot of his work coupled with the dozens of running in-jokes made you feel like part of a club by the time you got through your third book of his (which would probably be about two weeks after you started the first).
I'd held out hope for awhile that he would live to publish another novel. I guess that's not going to be the case. Maybe I'll revisit some of his stuff.
No further eulogizing here, the article linked does a better job of that.
'Tis a shame, sort of. (I have a hard time feeling too upset when somebody dies at 84.)
1 comment:
"it would appear"?
silly.
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