Quote 1
It
is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing
intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be
dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything
is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is,
except for the birds. And what do the birds say? All there is to
say about a massacre, things like “Poo-tee-weet?”
Kurt Vonnegut, as the narrator, addresses
his publisher Seymour (“Sam”) Lawrence directly in this passage
from Chapter 1. He seems to apologize for
delivering such a short, fragmented manuscript. The irony of this
passage is that if there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre,
then writing a book about one, no matter how short, is a major accomplishment.
Perhaps like birdsong, the book merely serves as a simple communication
demonstrating that life still exists in a devastated world. The
bird’s inquisitive refrain returns in the very last line of the
novel, leaving us with the unanswered question of what life is like
in the aftermath of war—life’s most devastating enemy.
