Recently Read: "Look at the Birdie: Short Fiction" by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Look at the Birdie: Short Fiction by Kurt Vonnegut
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The first book by Kurt Vonnegut that I read was “Cat’s Cradle.” It hooked me, and even as a high school sophomore I identified with the cynical world view. For many, the first introduction to Vonnegut’s writing is “Slaughterhouse 5.” I think this is unfortunate. That particular work requires a lot more than most high school students are willing to give a book they didn’t choose to read on their own. “Cat’s Cradle” is a much gentler introduction, I think. However, that’s just my opinion. One could debate it either way until the cows come home.

What would definitely, without a doubt, be a horrible introduction for someone who has yet to read Vonnegut is “Look at the Birdie,” a collection of previously unpublished short stories. This is a posthumous publication, and that fact is rather obvious to anyone who has ever attempted to write themselves. Anyone who has ever given it a go is more than likely to have accumulated a file folder (whether digital or actual paper – I personally have both.) full of stories that aren’t quite right. We save them, perhaps with the intention of working on them further to fix the problems with dialogue, plot or continuity. We set them aside and await the elusive “A-ha” moment when we magically know just what to do with a lackluster story. Or perhaps each story, while painfully inadequate, contains a few clever nuggets that could be salvaged and used in a better story. Or perhaps we are simply anal pack rats who never throw anything away. Regardless, our overall intention is that the stories in that file will never see the light of day in their current state.  I have the strong suspicion that the short stories in this collection were discovered in such a folder in Mr. Vonnegut’s filing cabinet.

There are some who find the posthumous publishing of such stories offensive. Mr. Vonnegut, no doubt, didn’t publish them for a reason. It violates the deceased last wishes, some would say, and invades his privacy. I’m not of that opinion. Anything left behind is fair game. I felt that way when they ransacked Douglas Adams’ old Macintoshes, and I feel that way now. For this exact reason, I plan to include a clause in my will that will specify that upon my death certain papers, journals and files are to be destroyed without ever being opened. Of course, I will never know if my wishes are carried out. Not that it matters, as I doubt I will ever be remotely famous enough for anyone to care. But, I digress.

We all have our literary heroes, and certainly they earned such adoration. Still, we usually only read (and reread) their polished masterpieces. These works, in their magnificence, are a wonderful introduction to an author. And, if the author happens to be prolific, these works can give us years of amazement, joy, and endless provocations of deep thoughts and profound realizations. Yet, after you have explored much of what the author wanted you to see, there is some benefit to reading what the author wasn’t ready to share with the public at large. That’s the opportunity “Look at the Birdie” gives us … a chance to see a different side of Vonnegut’s writing – the unfinished side.

Not all of these stories are very good, which helps the diehard fan of Vonnegut see him as a flawed human who worked through a process to give us such great works. As a fledging writer, this can be inspiring. “Slaughterhouse 5,” “Player Piano,” “Cat’s Cradle,” etc. didn’t just flow from his typewriter like honey. They didn’t fall onto the page like manna from heaven. Mr. Vonnegut worked at it, and he worked hard. Sidney Offit writes in the Foreword, “Unpublished is not a word we identify with a Kurt Vonnegut short story. It may well be that these stories didn’t appear in print because for one reason or another they didn’t satisfy Kurt. He rewrote and rewrote, as his son, Mark, as well as agents and editors testify. Although Kurt’s style may seem casual and spontaneous, he was a master craftsman, demanding of himself perfection of the story, the sentence, the word.”

I’ve read much of what Mr. Vonnegut considered “perfect” enough to publish, but it was enlightening to read stories that didn’t meet his demands. Much like reading first drafts of heavily reworked manuscripts, you get the sense of raw imagination and creativity. You can almost see the flow of thought as an idea develops. Sometimes the story doesn’t really go anywhere, and some plots are not developed to the satisfaction of the reader, but always evident is the author’s inspiration and the idea he was trying to convey. It’s a glimpse of the master at work, a chance to peek behind the scenes. I once saw an exhibit of Van Gogh. It wouldn’t have been a complete experience if it didn’t include pencil sketches that later led to some of his famous paintings. It’s the same idea that made the Beatles Anthology series (released in 1995-1996) so intriguing. Here the average music lover was given the chance to hear the bad takes and mistakes made by the legendary band as they pieced together the versions of famous songs we know and love. You don’t have to know much about music to be able to enjoy listening to them attempt a song as a waltz and later decide it sounds better in 4/4 time, work out complex guitar fingering or play around with lyrics. You end up appreciating their music even more. Much the same, I put down “Look at the Birdie” appreciating Mr. Vonnegut’s talent and hard work more, even the less than “perfect” pieces.

I only wish the editors had provided a time line for these stories, so I could know when each of these stories was written and whether or not parts were “salvaged” for use in later works that were actually published. I found myself being reminded of other works by elements of certain stories, which made me wonder if it was written prior and Mr. Vonnegut simply recycled particular elements into a more “perfect” story line. Also, some stories seem downright optimistic, which I don’t normally associate with Vonnegut’s writing and makes me wonder if they were written when he was much younger and still working through what had happened to him during the war. I also found myself wondering if one or two were written before he was captured by the Germans and held in Dresden. I haven’t come across any biographical indication that he wrote prior to his post-war life, but it seems writing ran in his family. I’d like to think it’s possible he started writing as a young man, since it seemed such a logical choice for him to pursue the career after he was discharged and really had something to say.

This collection contains fourteen stories, of various length and theme. I will try my best not to give too much away in the form of spoilers. All were intriguing and interesting in one way or another. I didn’t like a couple of them, and absolutely loved a few others. Many left me scratching my head, not sure what to think. I am refraining from sharing which ones I liked and which ones I didn’t, mostly because that is a particularly subjective assessment. Besides, it was worthwhile to read every single one.

“Confido” is the story of how a device that talks in your ear affects the inventor’s family.
“FUBAR” seems to be perhaps a precursor to “Player Piano.” The first paragraph ends with this sentiment: “Fubar is worthy of a better fate, meaning as it does fouled up beyond all recognitionly useful and interesting word in that it describes a misfortune brought about not by malice but by administrative accidents in some large and complex organization.”
"Shout About it from the Housetops" is funny and light-hearted. The protagonist is a straight man who absentmindedly wanders into a comical scene.
"Ed Luby's Key Club" is an interesting portrayal of the best and worst of humanity, two polar opposites with nothing in between to temper the two extremes.
"A Song for Selma" is uncharacteristically upbeat, positive and ends on a hopeful note.
“Hall of Mirrors” could have been featured on “Alfred Hitchcock Presents.” It’s rather predictable and corny until the very last two short paragraphs, which slap the reader in the face with a twist out of nowhere. This is the first of two stories in the collection that mention a specific round ballroom lined with mirrors and it’s connection with therapy.
"The Nice Little People" is an intriguing concept that I wish had been more developed. It would have made a great episode of “The Twilight Zone.” It ends on a decidedly hopeless note.
"Hello, Red” is very depressing portrait of humanity at its most base and ugliest.
“Little Drops of Water” was entirely unpredictable and clever, but again doesn’t paint a pretty picture of society. I imagine it would be similar to “Fatal Attraction,” if that movie starred Doris Day and Rock Hudson and Tony Randall was the narrator.
"The Petrified Ants," clearly influenced by the Cold War era in which it was written, is a heavy handed commentary on communist Russia that compares humanity to pre-Mesozoic ants. The comparison bears a striking resemblance to the current situation in the good ol' USA.
"The Honor of a Newsboy" is told from the point of view of an adult who is jealous of the world seen through the eyes of a 10 year old idealist. Preserving the boy’s innocence is his highest priority. And, I mean highest.
In "Look at the Birdie" a man is hustled in a rather alarming, sadistic way. In today’s world of surveillance and camera phones, I can totally see this type of crime happening. This is the second story that mentions a mirror lined ballroom with a connection to some form of therapy.
"King and Queen of the Universe" is a loss of innocence tale that takes place during the Great Depression, but could be retold during modern times. I couldn’t help but think of the Occupy Wall Street Movement, particularly the kids graduating with staggering debt only to find there are no jobs available. In this story, two offspring of the 1% open their eyes to the suffering of a member of the 99%. (I might have given too much away on this story. Sorry.)
I couldn’t tell where "The Good Explainer" was going, and wasn’t sure where I was once Mr. Vonnegut took me there. It left me thinking the tragedies of our past will always leave a mark on our present and future, and sometimes the reasons are impossible to explain.

I hope I left you intrigued.

Needless to say the second volume of unpublished stories by Mr. Vonnegut, entitled “While Mortals Sleep” has been on my Amazon wish list since its release this past January. Now that I’ve read “Birdie,” I’m really looking forward to reading it.


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