
"We are healthy only to the extent that our ideas are humane." So reads
the tombstone of downtrodden writer Kilgore Trout, but we have no doubt
who's really talking: his alter ego Kurt Vonnegut. Health versus
sickness, humanity versus inhumanity--both sets of ideas bounce through
this challenging and funny book. As with the rest of Vonnegut's pure
fantasy, it lacks the shimmering, fact-fueled rage that illuminates
Slaughterhouse-Five. At the same time, that makes this book perhaps more
enjoyable to read. Breakfast of Champions is a slippery, lucid, bleakly
humorous jaunt through (sick? inhumane?) America circa 1973, with
Vonnegut acting as our Virgil-like companion. The book follows its main
character, auto-dealing solid-citizen Dwayne Hoover, down into madness, a
condition brought on by the work of the aforementioned Kilgore Trout.
As Dwayne cracks, then crumbles, Breakfast of Champions coolly shows the
effects his dementia has on the web of characters surrounding him. It's
not much of a plot, but it's enough for Vonnegut to air unique opinions
on America, sex, war, love, and all of his other pet topics--you know,
the only ones that really count.
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