I’ve been reading the notes at the back of the Library of America’s 2012 compilation Kurt Vonnegut: Novels & Stories 1950–1962, because a) I get a kick out of that kind of thing and b) I’ve already read all of the novels and stories themselves. And I’m surprised by what the editors thought needed to be explained to me so I’d understand Vonnegut’s allusions.

Here are some things the Library of America thought I wouldn’t get without explication.

Rube Goldberg machine
Rosicrucians
Horatio on the bridge
Black Maria
Jim Thorpe
Maxfield Parrish
Tweety and Sylvester
Le Sacre du Printemps
The Protocols of the Elders of Zion
Mata Hari
Adolf Eichmann
Maxfield Parrish
Cyklon-B
Werner von Braun
Maggie and Jiggs

I did need to be told, however, that a Helen Twelvetrees is a “cocktail of Southern Comfort, ginger ale, and blackberry concentrate,” because I only know of her as a movie actress from the ’30s. But then, I don’t drink. I presume the non-teetotalers out there already know about it.

That being said … am I wrong to believe that anyone likely to pick up a copy of Kurt Vonnegut: Novels & Stories 1950–1962 is already aware of each of those people and things, making such explanations unnecessary? Or am I, unlike H. L. Mencken, overestimating the intelligence of the great masses?

I received a copy of Kurt Vonnegut: Novels & Stories 1950-1962 in the mail the other day. The book featured a cover photo of a Vonnegut I did not recognize and an essay on science fiction written by a Vonnegut I did not recognize either.

The photo caused some cognitive dissonance because of what was lacking—the curly hair, that mustache … and where was the cigarette? And as for the essay, well, he may have liked SF writers and editors, thinking them a jovial bunch, “generous and amusing souls,” as he put it, but he sure didn’t like the words on the page.

I’m sure I read the piece titled “Science Fiction” back in 1974 when it was reprinted in his collection Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons, but I’d completely forgotten about it. Maybe you have, too. Or perhaps you’ve never read it. But in writing of the science fiction field of 1965, Vonnegut was quite dismissive:

Whatever it knows about science was fully revealed in Popular Mechanics by 1933. Whatever it knows about politics and economics and history can be found in the Information Please Almanac for 1941. Whatever it knows about the relationships between men and women derives from the clean and the pornographic versions of “Maggie and Jiggs.”

Oh, but he doesn’t hate all science fiction, though, because: (more…)

Dan Harmon, the creator of the TV series Community, has a theory about the shape of stories, one which was shared in a profile recently published in Wired. It’s different from any other story shape I’ve seen, in that it’s circular, rather than the usual X-Y graph reflecting highs and lows, whether of fortune, or tension, or some other plot element.

He says that when watching movies and TV, “I can’t not see that circle. It’s tattooed on my brain.”

Here’s how he lays it out.

It makes for an interesting theory, but it’s not one I’m comfortable with accepting as the skeleton of story, due partially to the circle and partially the fact that I don’t see many of these numerical concepts as being universal.

For example— (more…)

While in Utah a week ago, I stole a few hours from the World Horror Convention to ride the light rail system so that I could at least pretend that I’d seen some of Salt Lake City. (Often, all I ever see of a city while attending these conventions is the airport, the interior of the hotel, and the view from the cab while shuttling between the two.) So I rode the University Line and saw the recently refurbished state capitol, the interior of the Mormon Tabernacle, and many other local sites.

I also jumped off to visit the main branch of the public library, but what I found more interesting than the architecturally intriguing library building was this book-themed public sculpture across the street and between the tracks at the Library Station.

Above are the metal stacks of books, which were covered in light snow that day. Some of those stacks were were short enough that you could sit on them while waiting for the next train. (more…)

While reading the latest issue of Esquire, I noticed an advertorial page purporting to salute “the finest men’s speciality stores in the country.” Included in a list of what the magazine considers “The Gold Standard,” along with stores we’ve all heard of such as Barney’s and Bergdorf Goodman, is a clothing store in Cleveland that goes by the name of … Kilgore Trout?

A high-class men’s clothing store named after Kurt Vonnegut’s most famous character, a crazed science-fiction fiction writer? I found it hard to believe. And yet, it’s true.

The store’s site states:

Whether the call is for a made-to-measure tuxedo or for a suitcase full of resort pieces, Kilgore Trout tailors its inventory and service around you. Founded in 1977, and named in honor of writer Kurt Vonnegut’s favorite character, Kilgore Trout has evolved into a premier menswear and womenswear resource with relationship retailing at the core. Our 10,000 square foot store is filled with essential clothing for him and her, accessories and luxury homegoods.

Which doesn’t explain why a clothing store would be named in honor of Kilgore Trout. I would have expected a store by that name to be selling propeller beanies and t-shirts, rather than “the finest mens and womens apparel available.”

Any theories?