Dobra, chociaż ja mam napiętą relację z nurtem literatury postmodernistycznej.
Historia jest napisana z humorem, ale jeśli się zastanowić to te wydarzenia i to co przytrafia się bohaterom jest raczej brutalne. Pod przykrywką czarnego humoru nie widać tego od razu, ale wystraczy trochę poszukać i wyłania się o wiele bardziej złożony obraz. Sami bohaterowie są raczej jak interesujące esponaty, którym się przyglądamy, niż żywi bohaterowie, których losy mamy śledzić.
Widać mocny sceptyzyzm i podważanie fundamentów na jakich opiera się znana nam rzeczywistość, filozfia, religia czy polityka i te rozważania są interesujące.

Not much I can add that hasn't been said here already.

This was my first Vonnegut - I might try his other Science Fiction offerings.

As a commentary on the meaning of life and just how much control humans apparently have over their destiny, this one pretty much has its finger aimed right at your eye. Occasionally funny, occasionally horrifying, always surprising and, in the end, thought provoking (in a really quirky kind of way).

I came away from this with more questions than answers, but not in the kind of way that leaves one feeling confounded (maybe just a little bit hollow). This is one that will resound for a while, and no doubt is the kind of book that demands a re-read to fully unlock all of its little bittersweet delights.

n  5 THINGS I KNOW I learned from reading Sirens of Titann

1. Kurt Vonnegut was a brilliantly insightful GENIUS whose brain waves were ever so slightly out of phase with our universe making complete comprehension of his work by the rest of us impossible;
2. In the hands of a master, literature can be both incredibly entertaining and soul-piercingly deep;
3. Vonnegut had a rock hard MAD on the size of a Dyson Sphere against Organized Religion;
4. Winston Niles Rumfoord is a Gigantanormous, Hobbit-blowing, Douchasaurus Rex (or if you prefer the proper latin phrase Giganticus, SamwiseGamgeeus, Douchbaggius Maximus); and
5. A Martian soldier unable to stand at attention because he has been strangled to death by his best friend...can be VERY, VERY FUNNY!!

There is quite a bit more that I’m pretty sure of after reading this Vonnegut classic, but on the above I am very confidant. I had so much fun with this book and I am sure that I still missed some of what Vonnegut was trying to say. His delivery is so dry and understated that if your attention wonders even for a moment, you can miss his point. I think this is one of those books that just screams to be read in a group and discussed. Maybe that’s why books like this lend themselves so well to re-reading every so often, because there is so much more there to find upon closer inspection.

PLOT SUMMARY

Here is a brief rundown of the plot (for what it’s worth). The story is told by an unnamed far future historian and takes place over a 40+ year period during the “Nightmare Ages”…“sometime between the Second World War and the Third Great Depression.” The story revolves around 3 main characters are Malachi Constant, the aforementioned Winston Niles Rumfoord and Rumfoord’s wife, Beatrice.

The story begins with Malachi Constant, the richest man in the world, being granted a rare invitation to the Rumfoord Estate to witness a “materialization.” You see Winston Niles Rumfoord, while traveling between Earth and Mars with his pooch came in contact with a phenomenon called chrono-synclastic infundibulum (one of the truly remarkable concepts created by Vonnegut, but you’ll have to read for yourself). As a result of his encounter, Rumfoord now exists as a wave phenomena, has complete knowledge of the past a future, and “materializes” for a few minutes at his home every 59.9 days. Malachi is the first person (other than Beatrice) to be allowed to see and speak to Rumfoord during his visits.

During the visitation, Rumfoord tells Malachi all about his future (and the future of his wife Beatrice) and explains that Malachi will go on a series of journeys and will eventually end up, with Beatrice, on one of the moons of Saturn called Titan (hence the title). Malachi, not liking the idea that his path is set goes about doing everything he can to prevent the events Rumfoord has ordained.
This event starts the series of events that make up the novel. Along the way, Vonnegut bitch-slaps organized religion; puts forth a funny, witty and piercing examination of the question “Free Will: YES or NO?;” and follows his characters as they experience growth and change through the constant loss and destruction over everything they are.

A FEW FAVORITE MOMENTS

Without leaking too many details regarding the myriad of uncut gems that Vonnegut includes in this story, I do want to point out a few of my favorites.

On Religion

Clearly, Kurt's most all up in your face critiques are directed at “organized religion.” He doesn’t spend time bashing “belief” in any mean-spirited way. Rather, he focuses his ample ire on the “actions” that organized religion often leads its followers to perform. In this regard, my favorite satirical nuggest in this area were:

1. The Bible as Financial Analyst and Stock-picker.
2. The Church of God the Utterly Indifferent (this name still makes me chuckle)
3. The Earth as God’s Spaceship and the 10 commandments reworked as a launch countdown.

On Free Will and Why We’re Here

My single favorite “idea” from the entire book is the central idea of the novel in which Vonnegut answers for us the “what’s it all about” question. His answer, delivered with classic VonnegutSHOTness is sublime. When you take:

a. The intro to the story by the narrating future historian; plus
b. The final “reveal” regarding the purpose behind all of the actions of the characters in the story; plus
c. Some additional inter-story commentary from our narrator who hindsights this period of our history…
…and add it all together…the result for your eyes, gut and mind is a truly popping, wrenching, expanding STOP YOU IN YOUR TRACKS moment that may require a few injections of Whiskey (or stronger) to take the razor sharp edge off. It is certainly commentary that will burrow into your memory and lay idea eggs.

So I really, really liked it.

In sum, a truly exceptional work by a truly exceptional author expressing some exceptionally powerful ideas that made my exceptionally tiny brain scream for an exceptionally long time until I downed an exceptionally large glass of some exceptionally good stuff and suddenly felt exceptionally well….and exceptionally wobbly.

HIGHEST POSSIBLE RECOMMENDATION!!

Nominee: Hugo Award for Best Science Fiction Novel (1960)

كيرت فونيجت أصبح بالنسبة لي دواء يشفي من كل تعسيفات الحياة.

"Every passing hour brings the Solar System forty-three thousand miles closer to Globular Cluster M13 in Hercules — and still there are some misfits who insist that there is no such thing as progress."

-RANSOM K. FERN

This fantastic quote from the fictional character Ransom K. Fern greets the reader before the story even starts and sets the tone for the many more that follow. The story is billed as a tale from the Nightmare Ages. An age that falls roughly between the Second World War and the Third Great Depression. The richest, most depraved man on Earth, Malachi Constant, is offered a chance to take a space journey to distant worlds. This romp through space takes him from Earth to planets such as Mars, Mercury, and Saturn's moon Titan.

This was told from the third person perspective of an omnipotent narrator. A ploy that allowed Kurt Vonnegut to use humor and irony to explore his main themes of religion, free will, and the meaning of life!

I liked the themes of the story and enjoyed a lot of Vonnegut wry observations on humanity. The story itself was OK, but nothing special. The message was always worth more than the characters and the plot so that hurt my ability to fully engage with either.

Rating: 3.5 stars.

Audio Note: This was narrated by Jay Snyder who gave an exceptional performance.

This is Kurt Vonnegut’s second novel after his debut Player Piano… I am reading his novels in publication order. I have also read the short story collection Welcome to the Monkey House. (Google “Kurt Vonnegut novel report card” if you want to see how Vonnegut evaluates his novels in comparison). The Sirens of Titan follows Malachi Constant (great name) as he travels through space from Earth, to Mars, to Mercury; all the while, Constant’s life is intertwined with other characters such as Salo, Chrono, Rumfoord, and Beatrice.

This novel is nearly pure science-fiction, as opposed to other Vonnegut works like Mother Night that incorporate elements of historical fiction. The planet Tralfamadore appears for the first time in Sirens. Vonnegut, as always, writes in short, choppy prose. Most paragraphs are shorter than the ones within this review. Tonally, parts of the novel were flippant and irreverent, which I wholly appreciated. Recommended to those interested in comic sci-fi.

It's a thankless job, telling people it's a hard, hard Universe they're in!

But somebody's got to do it, and that's the job Kurt Vonnegut embarks on here, through the voice of his character Winston Niles Rumford, an impromptu deux-et-machina who plays with humanity like a fickle overlord with his toy soldiers, hoping to lure us, push us, force us, enchant us, frighten us into growing up, into freeing our minds of the shackles of political games, money grubbing, religious intransigence or epicurean abandon.
You see, Winston Niles Rumsfoord is a special person. He went out exploring the Solar System in his private spaceship even after earlier probes revealed the dangers of the endeavour. Subsequently he became chrono-synclastic-infundibulated (don't worry, the concept is explained in the novel) meaning he and his dog became scattered both in space and in time, witnessing the past and the future of the Earth. He now regularly re-materializes as a Prophet / agent of social change, determined to bring humanity into a new Illuminated Age.

Any man who would change the World in a significant way must have showmanship, a genial willingness to shed other people's blood, and a plausible new religion to introduce during the brief period of repentance and horror that usually follows bloodshed.

The plot of the novel pretty much follows the above Rumsfoord script, but within these boundaries Vonnegut excells as usual in his particular brand of black humor, impassionate condemnations of the military mindset, sharp satire of religious fundamentalism (check out the new concept of handicapping the lucky ones in order to cancel out their born advantages). What is particular to this early novel is a youthful enthusiasm, a more optimistic vibe, an exuberance and a rush of new ideas that would be tempered in later Vonnegut novels by a darker mood, dissillusionment and bleakness at humanity's chances to pull itself out of its present funk.

Coming back to the plot of the novel, it may be the influence of reading Dante in parallel, but I detected some pretty obvious references to the Divine Commedia. Rumsfoord picks as his agents of change his former wife Beatrice and a billionare Hollywood playboy named Malachi Constant. Beatrice plays a more passive role until the end of the novel ('The excesses of Beatrice were excesses of reluctance'.) I see her main role in the economy of the story as a cautionary tale against being too afraid to live your life, to take chances and to risk getting your heart broken in the process.  the conclusion of her story arc is one of those wonderful Vonnegut aphorisms, so quotable: The worst thing that could possibly happen to anybody would be to not be used for anything by anybody.

Malachi Constant I interpret as the man who loses his way in a dark wood and descends to Hell before he can ascend to Purgatory (there to meet the sirens of Titan from the title and to decipher at last the meaning of life). Another analogy could be made to biblical Job, as he is uprooted from his luxurious life and isolated from all his fellow humans by the machinations of Rumsfoord. I'm not starting a synopsis of his misadventures, because they form the backbone of the plot and I want to leave the pleasure of discovery for new readers intact. Again, Vonnegut draws the conclusion with his usual black humour:
Oh, my! said Constant, life is funny when you stop to think about it.

The novel is relatively short, but the rush of new concepts and the inventiveness make it feel like three or four normal novels condensed into one volume. One character in particular I felt deserved his own separate story. I'm referring to Salo the Tralfamadorian, the alien with inflatable feet whose defective flying saucer left him stranded in our Solar System until he could get a spare part from 150000 light years away. Extraterrestrial lifeforms in SF serve as mirrors to reflect and define our human nature when looked from outside our narrow, pebble in the sky perspective. Salo is no exception, and his millenia long monitoring of our planet has in the end changed his neutral, detached status:

The machine is no longer a machine. The machine's contacts are corroded, the bearings fouled, his circuits shorted, and his gears stripped. His mind buzzes and pops like the mind of an Earthling - fizzes and overheats with thoughts of love, honor, dignity, rights, accomplishments, integrity, independence.

The last batch of bookmarks I have are all related to the new religion created by Winston Niles Rumsfoord ( The Church of God the Utterly Indifferent), part satire, part serious teachings from the pen of one of my favorite humanist crusaders. I believe they are self-explanatory:

Take Care of the People, and God Almighty Will Take Care of Himself!

Oh, Mankind, rejoice in the apathy of our Creator, for it makes us free and truthful and dignified at last. No longer can a fool point to a ridiculous accident of good luck and say 'Somebody up there likes me'. And no longer can a tyrant say, 'God wants this or that to happen, and anybody who doesn't help this or that to happen is against God'.

The sermon of the panorama was that even a man without a friend in the Universe could still find his home planet mysteriously, heart-breakingly beautiful.

Not to be lonely, not to be sad - xxx had decided that those were the most important things in life.

You might wonder why, after all the praise, I still didn't rate the book five stars. While I consider it a classic and one of the best Vonnegut efforts, I did had some issues with the plot development, especially the chapters centered on the Mars military force. I also thought the concepts taken individually are all great but they don't always mesh together optimally, making the ideas more important than character development or motivation. I put it down to an aboundance of inspiration that felt the need to throw in everything at once into the mix. Maybe a re-read will add the last star.

I'm admittedly disturbed by the amount of four and five stars I'm seeing connected with this book. Because it's Vonnegut? Not good enough. Not even close.

I'm giving this book 1/2 a star for a few clever turns of phrase and -500 stars for being one of the most self-involved, pointless "original" novels featuring some of the most deplorably women-hating men. Now with more rape! And homophobia! And loveless marriage! This book is going in our "best for use in case of emergency kindling" pile. Next to Dan Brown's Inferno, of course.

I'll start with a roundabout introduction. Garry Kasparov was not just one of the best chessplayers of all time, he was also one of the best analysts. Even as a teenager, he was always coming up with the most amazing ideas. Chessplayers often prefer to hoard their ideas; it can be worth a lot to surprise your opponent in a critical game, and there are many stories about grandmasters keeping a new move in the freezer for years, or even decades. Kasparov asked his trainer if he should be hoarding too. "No, Garry!" came the sage reply. "Use them now! You'll get new ones." And, indeed, this turned out to be a correct prediction.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote Sirens of Titan early in his career, and I wonder if he didn't receive similar advice. The novel contains enough ideas for half a dozen normal books, and fairly bubbles with creative energy. I like it much more than Slaughterhouse Five, and I've always wondered why it isn't better known. I suppose it doesn't actually make sense; but, for goodness sakes, do things always have to make sense? Free associating for a moment, Candide, A Grand Day Out and the Old Testament are all undisputed masterpieces. None of them make sense, and they would be greatly diminished if they did. Put them together and package the result as a 50s SF novel, and you might get something a little bit like Sirens.

So, you have a naively optimistic central character, who suffers the most appalling reverses of fortune in a way that somehow ends up being more comic than tragic; but, instead of going to South America, he spends most of the book wandering around a Solar System which is very slightly more credible than Nick Park's cheese-flavored Moon. He's pursued by a God who's rather too fond of elaborate practical jokes, but who is simultaneously trying to use the story to convey deep truths about the meaning of life. Unless He's just kidding. It's a bit hard to tell, but isn't that normal for pronouncements made under the influence of divine inspiration?

I see I've left out all the good bits. I haven't mentioned the chrono-synclastic infundibulum. Or Bea's sonnet, "Every Man's an Island", about how to breathe in space. Or Salo, and his message for the people at the other end of the Universe. Or Universal Will to Become. Or even the Sirens. If you haven't already done so, why don't you buy the book and check them all out for yourself? It's an easy read, and it even has a happy ending. I think.

New review:

I am very much in my Vonnegut phase as I prepare for a senior seminar all about him.

I should say more accurately, that it’s all about only five of his novels – Slaughterhouse Five and the four novels that precede it. I’ve said it more carefully elsewhere (and often), but I see Vonnegut as essentially writing one novel, a novel centrally concerned with the trauma of his war-time experiences at Dresden. That is, each of these novels bleed together into what I call a ‘meta-novel.’ Or, in my more creative moments, I call it Slaughterhouses One through Five.

In any event, as I return to this from a few years away and look for evidence to support my thesis, I want to say: this is the same novel as Slaughterhouse, just not as well written and not as concentrated in its recognition that it’s dealing with trauma.

In other words, this is a novel about a man – Malachi Constant, aka Unk, aka the Space Wanderer – who’s supposed to be part of an invasion but who spends the battle sheltered from disaster underground. That is, Unk is in a cave on Mercury when the humans of Mars make their designed-to-fail attack on Earth. Like Vonnegut at Dresden, he is both part of the attacking army and part of the people who are being attacked.

What’s more, just as Billy Pilgrim is ‘unstuck in time’ – by the creatures of Trafalmadore, who are central to this novel – Winston Niles Rumfoord is similarly caught up in a loop that has him experience everything in his life as if it’s part of the same moment.

In my reading of this, we see the outline of the novel that will become Slaughterhouse Five. The same questions are here – a victim doesn’t know how to tell the story of his trauma and that trauma expresses itself in part by a perpetual present, a perpetual inability to move beyond the moment of that trauma.

All of that squares with the lens of trauma theory in literary studies that I am working with, so it’s all very reassuring of my central thesis.

Maybe I won’t persuade people to read Vonnegut in the way I propose, but I do hope I can persuade at least some to keep reading his stuff. The later novels tend to bore me – worse, they disappoint me so much that they make me question how good these early novels are. Starting with this, though, and moving through the next four, I think Vonnegut accomplished something powerful, something worth preserving.

If you believe me, start here. Keep going because it gets even better – next to the others, this is cluttered and unsure of its way – but this is funny and humane in ways that only Vonnegut could be.


---------------Original review, Sept. 27, 2017--------------

I had a Vonnegut phase in high school and into my early college years, and I remain grateful to him for showing me that literature can make you think even as it makes you laugh. I loved him for four or five years, then I felt I’d outgrown him. It’s only in the last four or five years (leaving a good 25 in between) that I’ve come back to him in a more measured way.

I think the best Vonnegut really is as good as his partisans say, as good as I thought it was when I first encountered it in the Reagan years. God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, Slaughterhouse Five, and, of course, Cat’s Cradle are all substantial works that hold up. They take elements of science fiction, combine them with a cynicism that can only be the product of an even deeper idealism, and give us some of the most memorable critiques of American life from the last 50 years.

Sirens of Titan isn’t quite up to that level. It’s Vonnegut feeling his way toward his more successful work. He senses there’s an intellectual freedom in a science fiction mode, but he gets mildly trapped in it here. The idea, for instance, of Rumfoord as a cosmic intelligence capable of seeing past and future is an intriguing spin on the idea of a god, but it also becomes a bit self-defeating. Rumfoord moves the events of Constant’s life forward, but it isn’t clear why. He seems to want to teach humanity a lesson – and Constant’s conclusion that our purpose is to love another isn’t a bad distillation, even if it sounds trite in my paraphrase. In the end, though, he himself is confused and moving on. It’s solid and intriguing, moving in some ways, but it also implies an anxiety from the still-learning Vonnegut.

Much of what is striking in the novel gets refined in later ones. We have, for instance, the rudiments of a religion that comes across more impressively in Cat’s Cradle. We also have a riff on the use of impediments to arrive at true equality; an idea he does a lot more with in “Harrison Bergeron” and that feels tacked on here. And we have disaffected rich men, unsure how to account for their great fortune, who get crystallized in Eliot Rosewater.

The one great contribution here, I think, is the Tralfamadorans. Yes, they come back in Slaughterhouse Five, but they’re here in fully realized form. It’s a brilliant idea: life forms so different from ours who direct humans toward great accomplishments that serve as trivial ‘text messages’ from across the universe. What is the Great Wall of China but, in effect, a post it note from the inter-stellar UPS driver saying he’ll be back soon with the package.

Definitely read this one. It’s not a bad place to start with Vonnegut if you know you’ll go on, and it’s a great way to echo the pleasures of the more mature novels if you’ve read them. Either way, commit to reading other Vonnegut as well. As striking as this is, it’s only a glimpse at what was to come.

Some books are better if just don’t expect them to make sense. The Sirens of Titan actually surprised me in how accessible it was for a Vonnegut novel. For the first few chapters, everything was pretty mundane. Weird, yes—but I followed everything that was going on. It’s not until about Chapter Four, when Malachi ends up on Mars, that everything gets super-strange. From there it’s just deeper down the rabbithole as Vonnegut spins layer upon layer of story.

Malachi Constant isn’t a nice man. He is hedonistic at best, overly complacent in his inherited fortune and prone to parties and womanizing. But Wilson Rumfoord is an even worse man. Discorporated and scattered throughout the solar system by a chronosynclastic infundibulum (try saying that three times fast), Rumfoord materializes periodically on various planets as the waveform of his being intersects them. He—along with his dog—exists outside of time, able to perceive all moments of his life at once. (This is reminiscent of the Trafalmadorians of Slaughterhouse-Five—though aliens under the same name appear in this book, they don’t seem to have the same non-linear existence.) Through Rumfoord’s prophecies and Malachi’s arranged suffering, Vonnegut once more explores the tension between determinism and free will and whether we are really able to make choices at all.

That last sentence sounds grand, but it actually requires a great deal of unpacking. Just as n  Slaughterhouse-Fiven is about more than non-linear time, this book is about more than determinism vs. free will. Vonnegut raises questions of morality and responsibility, and context-aware readers won’t be able to help but draw parallels to the horrific events of World War II and the refuge fatalism offers from the abyss of nihilism.

At first, we have to wonder about the fate of Malachi Constant. According to Rumfoord, he is destined to end up on Titan—along with Rumfoord’s wife, Beatrice, with whom Malachi will have a child. Malachi decides to rebel against this prophecy by selling all of his company’s shares in a spaceship company—but this, along with some other bad luck, ruins him.

From here, Vonnegut recounts the story of how Malachi’s father lucked into his riches. Luck is the word he uses, which is interesting, because we typically perceive luck as the force opposing fate or destiny. In this case, however, luck is clearly just another manifestation of fate—perhaps the baldest manifestation of fate. This thesis gains further definition much later, as Malachi further comes to accept his strange role in events and says, “I was a victim of a series of accidents, as are we all.” This is the “so it goes” of The Sirens of Titan: we are all, like Malachi Constant, merely victims of a series of continuous accidents, and that is what we call life.

The whole Martian invasion of Earth subplot is silly and very Vonnegut—it’s a pastiche, really, of a more sinister idea played straight in Watchmen and the machinations of Ozymandias. (Obviously the latter book came after this one; what I mean to say is that it is a good example of the trope Vonnegut mocks here.) But that’s why he doesn’t spend much time on the particulars and instead focuses on Unk’s evolution as a moral agent.

Is Unk culpable for the death of Stony Stevenson? The answer seems to be “no.” The reasons, however, could vary. At the time he kills Stony, it’s arguable whether Unk is much of a person at all. (Vonnegut is vague at first about the amount of control an individual retains in the Martian Army, though later I’d argue it becomes clearer. It seems that Unk probably had more volition than he exerts, but the combination of memory wipes and his conditioning means he isn’t in a fit state to exercise that volition.) On a more thematic note, Vonnegut seems to suggest that Stony’s death, like everything else, is merely a foreordained part of events in the universe, as told by Wilson Rumfoord.

So is Rumfoord God? His near-omniscient, near-omnipresent state and the skill with which he manipulates both Earth and Mars affairs certainly sets him up as god-like. But he’s probably not God per se—Vonnegut is definitely using the religion he creates on Earth to mock how seriously organized religion takes itself and the concept of a higher power that is anything other than indifferent to the well-being of humanity.

There is a certain irony, I suppose, in the way Rumfoord reacts when he finds out how the Trafalmadorians have been sending messages to Salo. They are monstrous for influencing Earth affairs, but he is apparently justified? Depending on how you view it, Rumfoord is either the most or least culpable character in the book—for surely knowing all of one’s actions and their consequences down throughout one’s entire existence either makes one completely responsible or not at all responsible for those actions and consequences.

I didn’t like the ending though. I appreciate it from an artistic perspective, but as a value judgement, I just find it so empty. Vonnegut’s style is similar to Douglas Adams’—both authors have a specificity that lends itself well to their absurd humour. The ending to The Sirens of Titan, alas, is much like the ending to Mostly Harmless (albeit without the apocalyptic elements)—there is a sense that the entire story leading up to it is rendered moot, which, as a reader, is not a nice feeling to have.

Don’t let that minor criticism make you think that I disliked the book, however. I thoroughly enjoyed The Sirens of Titan. It doesn’t quite have the gravitas of Slaughterhouse-Five, but I understand why some people prefer this book. At the very least, Vonnegut demonstrates he can bottle lightning a second time.

n  n

این کتاب…
واقعا عجیبه. حتی نمیدونم از کجا شروع کنم. موقع خوندن این کتاب قطعا توی یه قیف گیر کرده بودم. حالا چه قیف عادی چه کرونوسینکلاستیک. (کتابو بخونین میفهمین :)) )
همه چیز کتاب یکجاست. نمیدونم چطور بگم، ولی دقیقا مدلی که رامفورد از تمام گذشته و حال و آینده همزمان با خبر بود، منم انگار تمام این مدت از کل کتاب با خبر بودم ولی خودم نمیدونستم. به پایانش که رسیدم یه حس آشنایی برام داشت. یه چیزی که انگار از قبل درون من وجود داشته و الان صرفا یادآوری شده.
(در این لحظه به سرم زد باز چند صفحه اول کتاب رو یه نگاه کنم و فهمیدم واقعا آخر کتاب از همون صفحات ابتدایی مشخص بود.)
محتوای کتاب عجیبه. حقیقتا حالا که بهش فکر میکنم ممکنه با ذائقه خیلیا خوش نباشه چون یهو میبینی نویسنده کلی جزئیات بیخود راجع به جنس یه میله و قد و وزنش مینویسه ولی به اصل کار که میرسه میگه:
خب اینم که همین بود. چجوری نمیدونستی؟ واضحه دیگه.
و یهو ولت میکنه پی کار خودت تا بفهمی چیشده.
خیلی کار قشنگیه به نظرم چون به محتوای کتاب میاد. محتوا شامل این موارده:
-سرنوشت؛ آیا کنترلی روش داریم؟
-هدف زندگی؛ اصلا هدفی وجود داره؟
-معنای زندگی؛ واقعا با هدف زندگی یکیه؟ فکر نمیکنم.

این مفاهیم و سوالات مرتبط باهاشون هیچ جوابی ندارن. کورت ونه گوت هم نمیخواد بهمون جوابی بده. به نظرم خودشم از جوابش مطمئن نیست دقیقا مثل کرکتر رامفورد.
تلاش رامفورد با وجود اینکه میدونست کنترلی روی هیچی نداره عجیبه. اگه اطلاع داشت از اینکه مثل یک عروسک داره گردونده میشه، چرا تلاشی برای شکستن این جریان نکرد؟ مگه از همه چیز در طی زمان مطلع نبود؟
یا کنستانت، کرکتر دیگه‌ی کتاب. باشه کنستانت ادم بدیه (شدیییدا منو یاد بوجک هورسمن میندازه) ولی این گردبادی که رامفورد باعثش شد چرا باید یقه اونو بگیره؟ زن رامفورد چی؟
من حس میکنم اگه همین سوالارو از نویسنده بپرسم جوابی براشون نداره. چون واقعیت زندگی اینه که همه چیز رندومه و اتفاقا خدا تاس میندازه و کتابم یجورایی همینو نشون میده.

طنز کتاب رو خیلی خیلی دوست داشتم. خیلی جاها واقعا شدیدا خندیدم و از کتاب لذت بردم.
کامنت های کتاب راجع به تشکیل ادیان عالی بود و یکی از بخش های مورد علاقم توی کتابه. قشنگ سیر تشکیل هر دین در جهان مثل سیر همین کتابه و بخاطر همین خوندنش خالی از لطف نیست.

خیلی خیلی خیلی بیشتر میتونم راجع به کتاب حرف بزنم اما به نظرم در حد ریویو همین حرفا کفایت میکنه.
البته چرا ۴ دادم؟ (با وجود اینکه تقریبا ۷۰ درصد کتابو یه روزه تموم کردم!)
نمیدونم. از رامفورد بدم میاد و دلم میخواد اینجوری قدرتمو به کتاب تحمیل کنم.
(نه شوخی کردم. کتاب خوبیه ولی ۵ برای من جایگاه خاص داره این روزا. این کتاب ۴.۵عه برام ولی به پای ۵ نمیرسه.)