Timequake (original 1997; edition 1998)

this is my first vonnegut, and maybe it's unfortunate that i started with the last of his novels to be written. i don't know. this was definitely some of the things i was expecting it to be (quirky, unusual, irreverent - at times - ) and not some of the things i was expecting it to be (hilarious, mind-blowing, fantastic) and also some unexpected things (part autobiography, extremely honest). partly my fault because my expectations were too high? maybe. i don't know if he usually writes so much of himself into his books, but the way he wrote this one implies that it's pretty typical. i'm not sure how much i'd like that to be a consistent thing, but for at least this read, it was okay, and sometimes added a lot to the "story." parts of this book had echoes of tom robbins, which for me is a very positive thing. but i never felt like he did as good a job (bring on the thunder) as tom robbins would have with most of it. for me, he touched too lightly on too many things. a book this short can't very well be about nearly everything, but he seemed to try to make it be. i do like what he touches on about free will, though.

my favorite part of the entire book is from the prologue:

"That there are such devices are firearms, as easy to operate as cigarette lighters and as cheap as toasters, capable at anybody's whim of killing Father or [jazz pianist] Fats or Abraham Lincoln or John Lennon or Martin Luther King, Jr., or a woman pushing a baby carriage, should be proof enough for anybody that, to quote the old science fiction writer Kilgore Trout, 'being alive is a crock of shit.'"

had this been written by tom robbins, father, fats, abraham lincoln, john lennon, mlk, and the woman pushing a baby carriage would have figured to some extent in the story and it would have been brilliant. vonnegut made his father and abraham lincoln (and john lennon if you count that he mentioned the beatles, which i don't, really) part of the story but that's it. to me that's a big oversight. well, worse than an oversight. but it's not fair to compare to other authors (and i know that most people would never put robbins above vonnegut) and i do think that's affected my opinion on this.

i will be interested to read more by him and see if his other stuff is actually funny like his reputation boasts, and just to see more of his style, which i'll try not to compare with anyone else. ( )

This novel is sort of a mosaic made from fragments of Vonnegut's autobiography, and fragments of his alter-ego Trout's biography. In the forward, Vonnegut mentioned he'd had writers block, and mixing fragments of Trout's story with his story was the only way he could get the novel to work.

I'm not sure it does. Sure, it's neat how fragments of the novel loop back on each other - like the time quake loops time back on itself. And yes, it's sad that Vonnegut acknowledged the end of his career and life was fast approaching.

Yet, in many ways it still reads like a collection of vignettes rather than a novel. I'm seeing pieces of tile, not the mosaic as a whole. And that mosaic isn't picturing anything I haven't already seen in his other novels - and it was better crafted there. ( )

So this was a book club book that caused a lot of disagreement. Between Vonnegut fans and Vonnegut rookies, we couldn't decide whether the loose and ramshackle structure was playful, intentional, or just plain rambling. For a short and digressive book there are a lot of ideas about time and life, painful digs into the past and a wise (or at least resigned) acceptance of the simple pleasures and pains that life brings with it.

The premise is brilliant: Once upon a time the universe decided to rewind things ten years. Everyone has to relive the previous ten years over again. Some are put back in prison. Others are brought back to life. Everyone realizes rather quickly that they can't do anything to alter things. They relive an entire decade as slaves to their own former choices.

Things get interesting when they re-approach the 10 year mark where the universe decided to do grand rewind. After living ten years on auto-pilot, people don't know what to do with free will!

Unfortunately, the actual book doesn't live up to the brilliance of the plot. Vonnegut's meandering random style—which in other works is unique and endearing—is too scattered here. There are moments of brilliance but, in the end, too much confusion.

Ting-a-ling! ( )