“Does it trouble me to write so insubstantially, with air on air? Well--my words will be as enduring as anything my father wrote, or Shakespeare wrote, or Beethoven wrote, or Darwin wrote. It turns out that they all wrote with air on air.”
Whether through the plot or the writing style, Vonnegut always plays with the concept of time in his novels. In almost every book I’ve read of his, it felt like his idea of “time” was stretched and distorted to his liking, adhering only to his rules. Galapagos is no different.
Although one of Vonnegut’s later works, Galapagos is still incredibly satirical, humorous, and sarcastic. Vonnegut takes on human evolution, survival of the fittest, and the failings of the human brain, from the perspective of an evolved human one million years in the future. This narrator consistently reiterates how the human brain is too big, and as a species, we have become too complex as we generate wars, famines, and any other horsemen of the apocalypse.
“Why so many of us knocked us major chunks of our brains with alcohol from time to time remains an interesting mystery. It may be that we were trying to give evolution a shove in the right direction - in the direction of smaller brains.”
However, the idea of human evolution is such a big one to me, and unfortunately it felt like his satire only brushed the surface of it. Through small-scale vignettes, connected by a single plot line, a cast of characters about to embark on the Nature Cruise of the Century become the only hope for humanity continuing as a species – but I felt that too much time was spent on the backstories of these characters (important, no doubt) rather than how they start anew. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it felt like a bit of a mismatch with the overarching implications of the human race starting over.
But don’t take my review to be a dislike of this book – if it sounds interesting to you, you should pick it up. Three stars, to me, is a simple “I liked it” with no real sway in either direction. And remember, Vonnegut is like New Jersey pizza: it’s always going to be at least pretty good.
“Some automatic device clicked in her big brain, and her knees felt weak, and there was a chilly feeling in her stomach. She was in love with this man.
They don't make memories like that anymore.”
“The stock closed up $1.75 on Friday. Bill has 78,000,000 shares, so that means he’s now $136.5 million richer. I have almost no stock, and this means I am a loser.”
The title of this book tells you all you really need to know – Microserfs, a portmanteau of “Microsoft” and the feudal “serfs,” is about a group of programmers working at Microsoft who take the risk and start their own software company. Really, it’s a nineties version of HBO’s Silicon Valley.
This is an epistolary novel, but instead of a diary or letters, narrator Dan Underwood types all his thoughts in a “PowerBook entry,” filled not just with his day-to-day life, but with random notes and emails, complete with typos and grammatical errors to really give it that “draft word document” feel.
“Note: I think Starbucks has patented a new configuration of the water molecule, like in a Kurt Vonnegut novel, or something. This molecule allows their coffee to remain liquid at temperatures over 212° Fahrenheit. How do they get their coffee so hot? It takes hours to cool off—it’s so hot it’s undrinkable—and by the time it’s cool, you’re sick of waiting for it to cool and that ‘coffee moment’ has passed.”
I was born in 1995, so while I obviously cannot relate to these characters, Coupland does an excellent job of immersing you in this era of young programmers through his skillful incorporation of pop culture references. It’s a nice little slice of the nineties, infused with humor, quirkiness, and heartwarming moments.
“Checked the WinQuote: The stock was down 86 cents over the day. That means Bill lost $70 million today, whereas I only lost fuck all. But guess who’ll sleep better?”
Audible gave me a free audiobook, so I wanted to choose something that was not only interesting but had a narrator I would enjoy – so when I saw that H. Jon Benjamin had narrated his own memoir, I knew I had to listen to it. I’m a huge fan of Bob’s Burgers, and I've enjoyed some of his other works (though I never got into Archer), so I figured it would be nice to see how he came into his iconic TV roles.
What I got instead was a hilarious collection of anecdotes and stories from his childhood and teenage years all the way through to his current career. If you are looking for behind-the-scenes information on Bob’s Burgers or Archer, he barely gets into them in the last two chapters of the book. He instead spends time discussing his upbringing, his family, and his failed attempts at writing and starring in TV shows. His stories are insane, especially taken out of context:
“You know that feeling when you realize you have to spend an entire summer with a convicted felon? That’s how I felt.”
This book is downright comical, and his comedic ‘lists’ at the end of certain chapters do satisfy that Bob’s Burger’s-esque pun craving. Anyone remotely interested in his life will get something out of this (especially when he’s the one narrating, so I again highly recommend the audiobook version).
“Jesus! Where will it end? How low do you have to stoop in this country to be President?”
On the surface, this reads like a tamer version of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, although with just as much gonzo, as this novel chronicles Thompson’s coverage of the 1972 democratic primaries and the resulting race between incumbent Nixon and nominee George McGovern. Within the text, Thompson throws in his own haphazard accounts of his time as Rolling Stones’ journalist for the Democratic party.
“...back on the Campaign Trail… running late, as usual: left hand on the wheel and the other on the radio dial, seeking music, and a glass of iced Wild Turkey spilling into my crotch on every turn.”
It starts off a little slow, because like any primary race, you spend the time meeting and learning about an entire cast of politicians. But things pick up as that cast dwindles and as Thompson gets closer to the Democratic and Republican primaries, then to the race between Nixon and McGovern, and finally the resulting aftermath. It was enlightening to see how, over the course of the novel, the campaign took a toll on Thompson (which he never hid from us, remarking “…the last thing I wanted to think about was the grim, inescapable spectre of two more frenzied months on the campaign trail”). To me, that perfectly reflected the fatigue we’ve all been having these past few elections.
“Yes… and… uh, where were we? I have a bad tendency to rush off on mad tangents and pursue them for fifty or sixty pages that get so out of control that I end up burning them, for my own good.”
Thompson gives us an up-close and personal look at the election, with some comprehensive political analysis and interviews, while also remarking on the danger of running for president and bashing the American political system. This work was described as “eerily prophetic,” and while there is no one-to-one analog between present and past politicians, I certainly agreed that entire concepts and commentaries in the campaign heavily reflected that of 2016 and 2020. Of course, that could just be the fact that some things never change.
“Questions arose. Like, what in the fuck was going on here, basically.”
This novel was an absolute pleasure to not just read, but immerse myself in. Like a few novels I’ve read this year, Inherent Vice takes place in 1970s SoCal, and follows private eye ‘Doc’ Sportello as he tries to help out an ex who discovered a murder plot against her real-estate mogul boyfriend. The novel follows Doc as he meets many zany characters, such as ultra-conservative police lieutenant “Bigfoot” Bjornsen, on-the-run sax-player Coy Harlingen, and maritime lawyer Sauncho Smilax.
The novel follows Doc and these characters in the context of the tension between counterculture (mainly symbolized by Doc) and anti-counterculture (mainly symbolized by Bigfoot) in the wake of the Manson murders. Those who ran in Doc’s circles usually had friction with those who ran in Bigfoot’s circles.
“[The police station] creeped him out, the way it just sat there looking so plastic and harmless among the old-time good intentions of all that downtown architecture, no more sinister than a chain motel by the freeway, and yet behind its neutral drapes and far away down its fluorescent corridors it was swarming with all this strange alternate cop history and cop politics—cop dynasties, cop heroes and evildoers, saintly cops and psycho cops, cops too stupid to live and cops too smart for their own good—insulated by secret loyalties and codes of silence from the world they'd all been given to control, or, as they liked to put it, protect and serve.”
I’ve heard this work described as Pynchon’s most accessible work (Pynchon-lite, if you will), and I may not be on best authority to throw my two cents in (the only other book of his I’ve read was The Crying of Lot 49), but I still think this is very much his style. While the plot in this one is a bit more sensible than TCoL49, there are still those delightful tangents that Pynchon takes in his writing. That being said, the novel can get complex pretty quickly, solely because of the number of characters, so I recommend this wonderful resource which diagrams the character relations for each chapter.
“Offshore winds had been too strong to be doing the surf much good, but surfers found themselves getting up early anyway to watch the dawn weirdness, which seemed like a visible counterpart to the feeling in everybody's skin of desert winds and heat and relentlessness, with the exhaust from millions of motor vehicles mixing with microfine Mojave sand to refract the light toward the bloody end of the spectrum, everything dim, lurid and biblical, sailor-take-warning skies.”
“ESTRAGON: I can't go on like this.
VLADIMIR: That's what you think.”
Although this play was famously described as one in which “nothing happens, twice,” any book or work that plays with the concept of time always piques my interest (this isn’t exclusive to time-travel). Time and memory are a large part in this play, but without spoiling, it only really works when you put together both acts. Act I was a bit boring, though it had some pretty funny dialogue, but reading the second half with the knowledge of the first half is a treat, because I wasn’t quite sure what to believe.
Quick sidenote: plays are meant to be seen in person, though, so I have a feeling that seeing this performed live (especially with Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Patrick Stewart) would turn this into a five-star play.
As a quick summary: the two titular characters, Estragon and Vladimir, are waiting for Godot, who is supposed to arrive soon. That’s all you need to know going into the play. With lots of references to absurdism and religion, you can really study this play as much as you want. On the surface level it works fine, and the conversations are actually pretty funny and witty, but as you read more into the dialogue and characters, you can really have fun with analyzing and speculating on what is truly going on.
“The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.”
