Method, madness, or mess?

Thoughts on God Bless You, Mr Rosewater by Kurt Vonnegut

This book is no mess.

Let’s take that option off the table.

It’s only on the table because a reviewer, writing in The New York Times in 1965, was not particularly kind about this novel. His review—on the book’s publication—was “a bit harsh.”

He concludes:

“…if a novel should project a view of life by means of character, this book is not being merchandised in the proper category. Random meditations, si, Fiction, no. This should certainly not deter Mr. Vonnegut. I think Nietzsche started the same way.”

In comparing Vonnegut to Nietzsche—and given the tone of the rest of the review—there’s a certain insinuated insult, that maybe Vonnegut is on the same trajectory as the mustachioed philosopher… his endpoint being madness.

Or maybe he was trying to be clever in referencing a well-known madman given the book’s titular character, Eliot Rosewater, is himself mad.

If I backed myself more, I’d suggest this Mr Levin chap missed the point completely and was being a bit too clever. (Also, what is that “si” thing about?)

God Bless You, Mr Rosewater is unquestionably a work of fiction, and it does “project a view of life by means of character.”

It just does it too well.

My problem with the book is that it’s so committed to “projecting life by means of character” that we lose some of the entertainment and smarts we expect from Vonnegut.

It’s why, I think, I didn’t enjoy this novel as much as I enjoy so many of his others.

Pulling a Daniel Day-Lewis

God Bless You, Mr Rosewater was Vonnegut’s fifth novel.

It came off the back of more sci-fi-leaning stuff and preceded his most famous book Slaughterhouse 5.

I think he was still figuring out some stuff.

I think he was still figuring out himself, testing his skill and talent, and pushing his abilities to breaking point.

I think he got a bit lost doing so.

For me, Vonnegut went too “method” here, like Daniel Day-Lewis stabbing the pork loin being served in the on-set staff canteen and snarling “This is a kill” and then stabbing it from another angle, “This is a kill,” all while the service staff and other actors look on in shock.

The book feels a tad too erratic, even for Vonnegut. It feels—despite the strong themes (madness and capitalism)—like it’s missing a strong enough through line. It feels like it’s not only about a madman but that it’s been written by one too.

That was probably intentional.

Admirably, to get in the mode of Eliot Rosewater, I think Vonnegut went deep and tried too hard to embody “the vibe” of madness in the whole presentation of the novel. The effect is a bit strange, and I think he went a step too far, leaving some of his usual control and discipline at the door.

Mr Levin again, nearly 60 years ago:

“Here is a book that is devoid of anything as square as a plot, its text broken up into short epiphanies, like poetic cantos, with typographical squiggles for segues.”

Again, a little too harsh.

For one, in today’s literary world, we wouldn’t blink at a novel broken down into short sections. Almost all of Vonnegut’s novels are, and it’s the go-to style for so many modern writers (many likely cribbing from Vonnegut himself). But back then, in the still experimental 60s, it seems to have tripped Mr Levin up so much that he couldn’t see the plot at all.

He’s wrong, by the way. It’s not true there isn’t a plot. There is.

Still, to be fair to Mr Levin, the plot is obscured somewhat, and even if you’re following very closely, it’s a bit slow.

But I think contrary to what Mr Levin suggests, the plot isn’t obscured by the fact the story is told in short sections (Vonnegut manages plot effectively in the same style in other books). No. It’s obscured here by the fact that the story is told through this “lens of madness.” The story is the madness; the madness is the story. At least, that’s the aim—it’s just Vonnegut’s not entirely successful at pulling it off.

Dirty money

It’s also worth pointing out that God Bless You, Mr Rosewater is a story about money. It’s about capitalism and greed and is a reminder that in the last 60 years, we’ve not changed all that much as a society.

(Another mildly tangential thought: in the form of the classic show, don’t tell function, this novel seems to split its two main themes in such a way as to show madness, but tell money. Does it? Have I any evidence? Does this even make sense? Probably not. Am I writing a PhD? No. Let’s move on.)

Vonnegut’s thoughtful (and prescient) riffs on greed and capitalism all still stand. It’s another element of my sadness with this book: if it was delivered with the same expert skill as something like Mother Night or Breakfast of Champions, this novel has the ingredients to be among his best.

As it is, and like Mr. Rosewater himself, it’s all a little confused.

That said, I’m no Mr Levin, and the book is still, ostensibly, good. It has some great ideas wandering around inside it. It’s anything but ordinary. And in its slight madness and abstract unpredictability, it is entertaining.

Bottom line: it’s Vonnegut, and reading Vonnegut always brings pleasure on some level.

For me, it’s just not Vonnegut at his very best.

My recommendation: This is one for Vonnegut completists. If you’re eager for more Kurt coming off the back of Slaughterhouse 5, or Breakfast of Champions, read some of his more successful novels first: Mother Night, for example. Or Timequake. When you do come to read this one, do so in a plain white room with stark fluorescent lighting.