There
isn’t any particular relationship between the messages, except that
the author has chosen them carefully, so that, when seen all at
once, they produce an image of life that is beautiful and surprising
and deep. There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense,
no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love in our books are the
depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time.
In this passage at the beginning of
Chapter 5, one of Billy’s captors explains
the Tralfamadorian novel to him. It seems that Vonnegut has taken
this template as a model for Slaughterhouse-Five, down
to the rows of asterisks or dots separating short clumps of text.
The irony of such a strategy is that Vonnegut, like Billy, lacks
the Tralfamadorian ability to pick and choose his moments. Vonnegut
thus considers his book a failure of sorts, because he has achieved
the Tralfamadorian structure without its accompanying depth and beauty,
and because he has come up with nothing more intelligent or deep
to say about a massacre than “Poo-tee-weet.” Most
readers would argue, however, that Vonnegut has actually succeeded
in making a thing of great beauty out of a collection of tragic
moments.