So I recently finished up God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, a novel that ranked as the favorite of an acquaintance of mine back in my early twenties. It's taken me twenty years to get to it. I don't know why. It's not that I'm not a Vonnegut fan. He wrote some good stuff. But I just haven't run out and read a lot of his fiction. As the chart below shows, I read him most in my early twenties.
There's a certain obviousness to his points and themes, but I don't know that that should make him someone a person outgrows. There's much to admire, including that voice that is very much his own--and certainly enough, I think, that it won't be ten more years before I return to him.
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