This spring, on a trip to Bloomington, I stumbled on a massive, hardcover volume of Kurt Vonnegut’s collected short stories, which I excitedly bought and have been enjoying when I lug it off the shelf from time to time. I read a handful of Vonnegut novels in college, and really, really enjoyed them.

As I’ve enjoyed the short stories, I’ve been forming a vague resolution to return to the novels; and I figured re-reading Slaughterhouse Five was a great way to start. And reading it right after Maus, also a World War Two book, was the perfect time.

This book was great the second time. Personal, funny, and dark. I highly recommend it for most people.

I’m not going to dissect or analyze the book. Like Maus, or Persepolis, or any book written by someone trying to relate or make meaning out of their own painful experiences… I’m happy to just accept the words, and recommend the book to others.

From Slaughterhouse Five: “There is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is suppose to be very quiet after a massacre, and always is, except for the birds.And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like ‘Poo-tee-weet?’”

From Maus: “The victims who died can never tell their side of the story, so maybe it’s better not to have any more stories. Samuel Better once said ‘Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness’.

“On the other hand, he said it.”