Any novel by Kurt Vonnegut, as far as great American writers
goes, is the exact opposite of the William Faulkner story I reviewed a week
ago. As thought provoking and clever as Vonnegut
can get, there is nothing difficult about reading his work. Where 200 pages of Faulkner took me more then
a week to get through, I read Mother
Night in two days. That’s not to say
that Vonnegut is any less of an author or that his work is not as weighty, it’s
just that Vonnegut’s style doesn’t make my head hurt. Mother Night is a novel written in a simple,
breezy style yet filled with commentary about how we choose to define
ourselves, who we choose to tell others we are, and the consequences of both. Mother Night is the perfect example of that
rare novel that, for me, is enjoyable as both a reader and a writer.
The genius
of Mother Night, and really any work of Vonnegut’s, is the way it is able to be
so scathing while still using such simple language and structure. Mother Night is the story of a Nazi
propagandist ready to go on trial for war crimes after World War II told in the
first person. As the story progresses,
the reader is forced to question what is truth and what is false reality
created to ease the mind of a man implicated for heinous crimes. Vonnegut tells the story in first person from
the perspective of the Nazi, which only adds the questions and doubts.
A wonderful example of
an unreliable narrator story, Mother Night is easy to read, enjoyable, and
filled with tough commentary. The novel
is further proof that Vonnegut is an American satire master, who is able to
educate and entertain in one fell swoop.
Vonnegut’s best works seem to all deal with World War II and it’s fall
out, something that he had first hand experience with, and Mother Night is no
exception.
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