Tui đọc quyển sách này khi mà bên Mỹ đã trải qua thêm 2 lần tổng thống, còn ông tác giả thì đã chết như ổng mong muốn. Tui tin rằng, nếu còn sống, ông tác giả sẽ thấy nhiều chuyện bi hài hơn lúc ổng viết cuốn này, và rằng Bush chưa phải là điều tệ hại nhất.

Tui cũng chẳng biết phải review gì về cuốn này nữa, vì cuốn sách mỏng này đề cập nhiều vấn đề mang tính to bự quá, mà mình thì sức tàn lực mọn, chẳng dám oánh giá gì mấy lời của một ông lão già gân muốn chết. Ông ấy hài hước, dí dỏm, sâu sắc, nhưng muốn chết thật các bạn ạ. Điều ấy làm tui hoài nghi quá đỗi, rằng lão này chắc chắn không phải nhà văn, làm gì có nhà văn nào nhổ toẹt vào cuộc đời và bảo: Tao chán sống lắm rồi, cả xã hội này là mớ bòng bong mà ta chẳng thể nào thoát ra. Có thể, lão là một người theo chủ nghĩa bi quan, thích rủ rê mọi người chết chóc chăng?

Vậy nên, xin được véo một mẩu trong cuốn này để review: bàn về nụ cười. Khác với Milan, nụ cười của bác này chưa bao giờ là để chọc tức bọn độc giả, nó là một cái gì đó gần với đời sống thực hơn. Nó....chắc là Mỹ hơn.

Hồi bữa xem Joker, mình cứ thắc mắc hoài là hài độc thoại thì có gì hay ho mà tụi Mỹ chuộng đến vậy, chỉ là ngồi nghe một người nói nhảm thôi mà.

Rồi mình đọc phải cuốn này, trong này bác tác giả có bảo, có nhiều loại tiếng cười ở đời. Loại thứ nhất là tiếng cười của sự kinh hãi, như các nạn nhân ở trại Auschwitz. Đại thể như việc nhắc tới cái chết, rồi xóa nhòa nó, khiến cho tiếng cười trở nên sâu sắc hơn đến đáng kinh ngạc. Loại này, như Freud đã nói, nó là phản ứng trước sự thất vọng.

Loại thứ hai, ấy là tiếng cười hời hợt, chẳng bao giờ đề cập đến những vấn đề nhức nhối. Nói như kiểu VN, thì là hài miền Nam, hài của Hoài Linh và Chí Tài (huhuhuhu). Bác Kurt có bảo, những con người diễn hài hời hợt ấy, họ quá hiền lành để có thể tồn tại trong thế giới này.

Rồi mình nghĩ về tụi Mỹ, hài độc thoại thật buồn, chúng là nỗ lực sáng tạo của một người để mua vui cho người khác. Tiếng cười hời hợt của họ cô độc trong từng lời thốt ra, mong muốn được độc giả hiểu, cười, và luôn cười. Vậy nên, Joker đi từ anh hề lên nghệ sĩ hài độc thoại hẳn là có lý do.

Chuyện hài hước, trào phúng ở VN, nhiều lúc mình nghĩ đi từ văn chương trào phúng của Vũ Trọng Phụng, lên hài nhảm ở các show truyền hình, chẳng biết nên vui hay buồn nữa. Và chắc nhiều năm nữa, người ta mới thôi cười vì những trò dắt mũi nho nhỏ, đằng sau bàn tay của một người nào đó. :ss

A Man Without a Country by Kurt Vonnegut

I know now that there is not a chance in hell of America becoming humane and reasonable. Because power corrupts us, and absolute power corrupts us absolutely. Human beings are chimpanzees who get crazy drunk on power. By saying that our leaders are power-drunk chimpanzees, am I in danger of wrecking the morale of our soldiers fighting and dying in the Middle East? Their morale, like so many lifeless bodies, is already shot to pieces. They are being treated, as I never was, like toys a rich kid got for Christmas

Kurt Vonnegut's writing is revered by so many. It is his deeply humanist view of the world and a remarkable ability to distill his insights into witticisms that are most endearing to me. He is in a small pantheon of great humanist authors that include Dickens, Zola, Steinbeck, Orwell, Camus, Bradbury and Atwood. When I first read Slaughterhouse Five I was blown away, it is perhaps the most autobiographical science fiction book ever written.

When Vonnegut wrote A Man Without a Country in 2005 - a short book barely of novella length - he was already 82 years old. It was written during the middle of the Iraq War and he was very frustrated with his country as the title suggests. By this age it is obvious his writing has become more curmudgeonly and dour but the same satire is there. And my o’ my what tremendous insights. Myself, I am not so pessimistic about the future. I do know that the world is a much better place today than it was a hundred years ago and it will be a much better place a hundred years from now - if we don’t burn it to the ground. But still I believe Vonnegut, at eighty-two, had earned the right to say whatever he felt. For as much as he hated Bush’s policies, I don’t know that Vonnegut would have survived the Trump years. But there are some warmer moments as well.

In summary, I found the book to be well - inspirational. But I guess I am at my happiest anyway when the author’s sunlight is there acting as a disinfectant on the transgressions of leaders. The veneer has been stripped away and there is little equivocation about the number of problems facing us.

Here are a few of my favorite moments in the book.

1. Abraham Lincoln - Vonnegut loves Abraham Lincoln. He mentions Lincoln’s gift of writing in three different chapters. Not surprising since Lincoln was our greatest president.

2. George Bush and Eugene Debs - He really dislikes Bush and his policies and likes the views of Eugene Debs the socialist.

3. Vietnam War - He became very disaffected with politicians during this era, long after WWII.

4. Cigarettes - He is addicted to them and would like to sue the tobacco companies for billions.

5. Social media - Electronic communities build nothing. You wind up with nothing. We are dancing animals. How beautiful it is to get up and go out and do something. We are here on Earth to fart around. Don’t let anybody tell you any different.

I also try to get this same message across to my teenage children albeit with very little success.

One thing I would change about the book is that the thoughts, while cogent, are placed in a random way and do not provide an arc in the book.

4.5 stars

مرد بي وطن
در كنار رمان هاي گوناگون، گاهي خواندن چنين كتاب هايي كه حاصل يك عمر تجربه ي مردي دنياديده است،بد نيست. مثل اين است كه به پاي حرف هاي پيرمردي بنشيني و اجازه بدهي هرچه ميخواهد از اين دنيا گله كند بلكه آرام شود. هميشه شنيدن ديدگاه سالخوردگان درباره ي حقيقت زندگي، جذاب است.
كورت ونه گات، اين آخر عمري خود را مردي بي وطن مي نامد. او بسيار شاكي است از سياست جنگ جوي آمريكا، مصرف بي رويه ي نفت، به گند كشيدن طبيعت و جو فضاي زمين، جنگ هاي پي در پي بر سر قدرت، سلاح هسته اي، نابغه هايي كه به جرگه ي كثيف دولت ميپيوندند و... حال در سنين پيري، در سرزميني كه برايش جنگيده احساس غربت ميكند.احساس بي وطني. حق هم دارد.

نويسنده وصيت ميكند كه اگر خداي ناكرده روزي مردم اين را روي سنگ قبرم بنويسيد:
"تنها دليل او
براي اثبات وجود خداوند
موسيقي بود."
البته ميگويد چيزي كه به زنده بودنش ارزش مي بخشد، سواي از موسيقي، قديساني است كه ملاقات كرده است و منظورش از قديس كسي است كه در اين جامعه ي فوق العاده ناشايست، به طرز شايسته اي رفتار ميكند.

طبق نظر ونه گات، اين طنزپرداز قهار، فكاهي راهي است براي مقاومت در برابر مشقات زندگي براي در امان ماندن از آن ها؛ اما آخر سر هم به ستوه مي آيي. ستوه از اين زندگي فلاكت بار. از اين روست كه اين روزها فكاهي، ناياب و كمدي پردازان هم جدي شده اند و كمتر خبري از شوخي و طنز است.

-به نظرت تو آدم با استعدادي هستي؟
+ نه، ولي تمام آثار هنري نشانگر مبارزه هنرمند است عليه محدوديت هاي خودش

محشر بود! از معدود کتاب های طنزی که بلند بلند می خندیدم و عمیقا فکر می کردم.

من کورت ونه گات را دوست دارم
و با این حال با عرض شرمندگی هنووووز "سلاخ خانه ی شماره پنج" ش رو نخوندم
پ.ن: بالاخره خوندمش

این اثر، داستان نیست. گونه ای از بازگویی خاطرات نویسنده س به سبک غیرمعمول خاص خودش ولی بیشتر از خاطرات، طرزفکر ونه گات رو راجع به خیلی چیزها عیان می کنه. ونه گات مثل یه بابابزرگ پیر طناز دوست داشتنی تا دلتون بخواد به جون جرج بوش غر میزنه و به عنوان کهنه سربازی در جنگ جهانی دوم، سیاست های جنگ طلبانه و سلطه گرانه و دروغگوی امریکا رو زیر سوال می بره
( کتاب سال 2005 منتشر شد که همزمان با بحبوحه ی حمله ی امریکا به عراق برای یافتن سلاح های کشتارجمعی! بود)

انسان ها رو تا دلتون بخواد سرزنش می کنه که در فاصله ی زمانی کمتر از صدوپنجاه سال بعد از اختراع خودرو و هواپیما و ...، زمین تنها سیاره ی ممکن برای حیات و محیط زیست رو این طور به گند کشیدند. از تکنولوژی متنفره و در فصلی مبتکرانه لذت بیرون رفتن برای ارسال یک بسته پستی، راه همیشگی خودش، رو با انجام کار مشابه بوسیله ی کامپیوتر مقایسه می کنه و انصافن هم چیز خوشمزه ای در اومده

کتاب ، یک بخش جالب هم داره کلاس تخیلی آموزش داستان نویسی ونه گات که سیر داستانی کتاب های مختلف رو با رسم نمودار نشون میده
بخش نامه های مردم و جوابی که ونه گات براشون فرستاده بود هم خوب بود.در پایان هر قسمت، نویسنده جملات قصاری از بوکونون آورده.همون مدعی پیامبری و پیشگویی جهان در رمان گهواره ی گربه که کار جالبی بود

خلاصه این که هرچند ونه گات ادعا می کنه پیر شده و قدرت طنازیش رو از دست داده ولی این کتاب هنوز هم می تونه شما رو به فکر ببره و بخندونه

I have read much of Mr. Vonnegut's work over the years, and one of the things I always admired about him was how practical he was in what he said. He was an avowed socialist, while admitting that socialism has never worked, a professed crank, who saw the best in people, etc. I don't know what happened to that guy, but he was the not the guy who wrote this book.
"A Man without a Country" is so full of bitterness and bile that it clouds over some of the truly remarkable essays in this slim text. The book is formatted as a loosely connected batch of essays, and there are some that are vintage Vonnegut in their style and content. The essays "Here is a lesson in creative writing", and "I have been called a Luddite" being prime examples. They are enjoyable, insightful, and worth rereading and sharing.
But then the book takes a very bitter turn and never comes back from it. It appears that like his literary idol Mark Twain, Vonnegut became very disillusioned and hateful in his late life. What drew me to Vonnegut years ago was a recurring theme that appeared in so many of his works, the idea that we each have a duty to treat others respectfully and with kindness. Vonnegut himself even said in earlier works that "he never wrote heroes or villains". He knew that judgment was best left to others. But this book is hateful towards those whose political or philosophical views differ from Vonnegut. It is like seeing a person that you greatly admired being exposed as a fraud. Vonnegut (in this book, which is nonfiction) is mean spirited, and all of the things he spent so much time earlier in his life begging us all not to be.
Simply put, it makes me sad.
I have now read this text twice, about three years apart, and I won't waste the time (with the exceptions mentioned above) again. It depresses me, and distorts the view of Vonnegut I would rather maintain in my mind. Read his earlier works, especially the lovely "God Bless You Mr. Rosewater" and skip this one.

"Kurt is up in heaven now."

If you've read A Man Without a Country, you'll know I'm fulfilling a wish Kurt Vonnegut made in this book.

If you haven't read it, let me explain.

At a memorial service for the great science fiction writer Isaac Asimov, Kurt opened his tribute with the quip, "Isaac is up in heaven now". 

This of course elicited many chuckles. Mr. Asimov was atheist and probably no one in this room of humanists believed in an afterlife, whether it be heaven, hell, reincarnation, or floating around haunting people and inspiring movies in which Whoopi Goldberg has to help a deceased Patrick Swayze reunite with his grieving love Demi Moore.




Recalling the laughter he evoked with his joke, Kurt wrote, "If I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, 'Kurt is up in heaven now.' That's my favorite joke". 

And so there it is, Mr. Vonnegut. I have fulfilled your pre-dying wish.  You can thank me when I too get to heaven.




Thank you. Thank you very much.

If you enjoy this sort of dry humor, you will appreciate this book. Mr. Vonnegut displays his gift of sarcasm throughout, which brought about many chuckles from me.

A Man Without a Country is a collection of essays Mr. Vonnegut wrote a couple years before he died. He deliberates on many things - art, technology, American "patriotism", socialism, sex, politics, and more.

It was interesting to note the criticism Mr. Vonnegut had of Bush, Cheney, and Co., and of their travesty of a war. His biting assessment makes one wonder what he would have had to say about the current administration had he lived long enough to see Agent Orange take control of the White House. His critique of the Bush administration seems almost excessive, when many of us actually feel nostalgia for the days when we had that goofy, grinning puppet in the Oval Office rather than the nefarious and dangerous fool who is there today.

Sadly, Mr. Vonnegut is no longer with us. If he is looking down from some heaven, we can only wonder what he would say about the current fiasco. Will someone please get Whoopi/Oda Mae Brown out of isolation? I'd love to hear Kurt's thoughts.

I leave you with a few quotes from the book:

"The America I loved still exists at the front desks of our public libraries."

To so-called patriots: "They don’t hate us for our purported liberty and justice for all. They hate us now for our arrogance."

On those in power:. "They aren’t really interested in saving lives. What matters to them is being listened to.... If there’s anything they hate, it’s a wise human."  (And this was said during the Bush years. Again, imagine what he would have had to say today!)

On climate change:  "It seems to me as if everyone is living as members of Alcoholics Anonymous do, day by day. And a few more days will be enough. I know of very few people who are dreaming of a world for their grandchildren."

On humanism:  "We humanists try to behave as decently, as fairly, and as honorably as we can without any expectation of rewards or punishments in an afterlife."

On hypocrites:. "For some reason, the most vocal Christians among us never mention the Beatitudes. But, often with tears in their eyes, they demand that the Ten Commandments be posted in public buildings.... I haven’t heard one of them demand that the Sermon on the Mount, the Beatitudes', be posted anywhere.
'Blessed are the merciful' in a courtroom? 'Blessed are the peacemakers' in the Pentagon? Give me a break!"

We lost this brilliant man too soon.

Tanrı göstermesin günün birinde ölürsem umarım, “Kurt artık cennette,” dersiniz. En sevdiğim espridir. (s.73)
*
Kurt artık cennette ve bu kitabı okumak onunla son bir sohbet gibiydi.

What an amazing read.


Those of us who had imagination circuits built can look in someone’s face and see stories there; to everyone else, a face will just be a face.

I used to be the owner and manager of an automobile dealership in West Barnstable, Massachusetts, called Saab Cape Cod. It and I went out of business thirty-three years ago. The Saab then, as now, was a Swedish car, and I now believe my failure as a dealer so long ago explains what would otherwise remain a deep mystery: Why the Swedes have never given me a Nobel Prize for Literature. Old Norwegian proverb: “Swedes have short dicks but long memories.”

We are killing this planet as a life-support system with the poisons from all the thermodynamic whoopee we’re making with atomic energy and fossil fuels, and everybody knows it, and practically nobody cares. This is how crazy we are. I think the planet’s immune system is trying to get rid of us with AIDS and new strains of flu and tuberculosis, and so on.
I think the planet should get rid of us. We’re really awful animals. I mean, that dumb Barbra Streisand song, ‘People who need people are the luckiest people in the world’—she’s talking about cannibals. Lots to eat. Yes, the planet is trying to get rid of us, but I think it’s too late.”

But a joke is like building a mousetrap from scratch. You have to work pretty hard to make the thing snap when it is supposed to snap.

There are old poops who will say that you do not become a grown-up until you have somehow survived, as they have, some famous calamity—the Great Depression, the Second World War, Vietnam, whatever. Storytellers are responsible for this destructive, not to say suicidal, myth. When I got home from the Second World War, my Uncle Dan clapped me on the back, and he said, “You’re a man now.” So I killed him. Not really, but I certainly felt like doing it

http://delsharm.blog.ir/1397/05/21/wi...

«اگر متوجه نشد‌ه‌اید، [خوب است بدانید] رهبریِ انتخاب‌نشدهٔ ما میلیون‌ها و میلیون‌ها انسان را به خاطر دین و نژادشان در شمار انسان نمی‌آورد. ما آن‌ها را هر طور دلمان خواست زخمی می‌کنیم، می‌کشیم، شکنجه می‌کنیم و زندانی می‌کنیم.

مثل آب خوردن.

اگر متوجه نشده‌اید، [بدانید] ما حتی سربازانمان را از شمار انسان‌ها خارج کردیم، نه به خاطر دین و نژادشان، بلکه به خاطر طبقهٔ اجتماعی‌شان.

بفرستیدشان هر جایی. مجبورشان کنید هر کاری کنند.

مثل آب خوردن.

…

پس من مرد بی‌وطنم، [هیچ جای آمریکا وطنم نیست] جز کتاب‌خانه‌ها و روزنامهٔ [سوسیال‌دموکرات] این روزهای شیکاگو.

قبل از آن که به عراق حمله کنیم، روزنامهٔ باشکوه نیویورک‌تایمز تضمین داد که سلاح‌های کشتار جمعی در آنجاست.

…

نپالم [سلاح شیمیایی که آمریکا بر ضد ویتنام به کار برد] از دانشگاه هاروارد بیرون آمده است.» (صص ۸۷-۸۸)



به نظرم همان «سلاخ‌خانهٔ شمارهٔ پنج» برای خوب بودن کرت وانه‌گات کافی است. این کتاب در واقع نثرهای پراکندهٔ اوست که حاصل از متن سخنرانی‌هایش در سال‌های مختلف است. کتاب دو سال قبل از فوت او نوشته شده است و درون‌مایهٔ اکثر نوشته‌ها طنز همراه با نقد جنایت‌های آمریکا و سیاهی دنیاست. به همین خاطر به احتمال زیاد موقع خواندن این کتاب زیاد خواهید خندید.

وانه‌گات یک کافر شش‌دانگ است، تا چند پشتش هم کافر بوده‌اند ولی نوع نگاهش به دنیا بسیار جالب است. مخصوصاً آن که حرف‌هایش با چاشنی طنز همراه می‌شود. بخشی از این سخنرانی در این کتابِ بسیار کوتاه آمده است:

https://bit.ly/OKVTqy

As seems to happen often, I became a fan of Vonnegut during college. It's been a few years since then and so to finally hear him writing in his own voice about his own thoughts, as opposed to getting to know him through the eyes of his fictional characters, was very cool. The sarcasm, the dry wit, that cynical-yet-hopeful view of the world...ah yes, if Mark Twain had a 20th Century doppelganger, it was Vonnegut.

"اگر این قشنگ نیست پس چی قشنگ است."

کرت ونه گات خالق "سلاخ خانه ی شماره پنج" در این کتاب واکنشی به شکل طنز علیه رنج و غم جامعه ی امریکا دارد. به تعبیر خودش یک" لودیت "است. ( این کلمه از اسم مردی به نام" ند لود" گرفته شده است در اوایل قرن 19 ماشین های مکانیکی بافندگی را نابود کرد "ماشین شکن " بود.. داستان"شرلی" نوشته ی "شارلوت برونته" در همین فضا روایت می شود.)

از همان ابتدا مشخص می کند که قرار است با چه روایتی مواجه شویم . یک خود‌واگویه ای از دغدغه هایش است.
از نوشتن کتابش و خلق آن چه حقیقت است و تحلیل با مزه ی شیوه های خلق داستان می گوید. نکته ی با مزه برام این بود که شیمی خونده