In this period I had to work hard. I had to face with many problems. But, back home late at night, Breakfast of Champions was there, waiting for me. And all went quiet.
Listen, this is a tale of a meeting of two lonesome, skinny, fairly old white men on a planet which is dying fast. Tale written by Philboyd Studge or Kilgore Trout or The Creator of the Universe and then, by Vonnegut himself. And so on. Ah ah ah.
Half Swift half Voltaire of the second half of twentieth century, Kurt Vonnegut never fails to amuse me, to surprise me.
P.S What a coincidence, I read this book when approaching my fiftieth birthday, just like the author when he wrote the book.
"Once I understood what was making America such a dangerous, unhappy nation of people who had nothing to do with real life, I resolved to shun storytelling. I would write about life. Every person would be exactly as important as any other. All facts would also be given equal weightiness. Nothing would be left out. Let others bring order to chaos. I would bring chaos to order, instead, which I think I have done. If all writers would do that, then perhaps citizens not in the literary trades will understand that there is no order in the world around us, that we must adapt ourselves to the requirements of chaos instead. It is hard to adapt to chaos, but it can be done. I am living proof of that: It can be done."...Continua