Narration provides the gateway to a fictional world; it gives sight and detail to a story’s reality. Narration can take many forms but there are two prevalent ones. There’s the first-person, where a narrative is communicated via a character ensconced within it. Then there’s the omniscient watcher of events; objectivity embodied in prose. Kurt Vonnegut offers an unusual synthesis of these two perspectives in his novel Breakfast of Champions.
Throughout the first half of the book the narrative is distinctly personalised - it has a relaxed, almost spoken, approach in the relaying of plot points. The comfortable flow of language gives off the vapour of conversation; an intimate dialogue. Towards the latter half the narrator materialises inside the story. This is not strange in itself; concealing narrator identity is a popular and proficient literary device.
What marks this instance out is that the narrator appears in the story as the writer. In an eruption of post-modern self-awareness, Vonnegut situates himself in his own constructed world, with full reference to the created nature of it all. He takes much pride in relating how such-and-such character he created did this and that because he created him to do that very task. Although there’s no overt depositing of Vonnegut in the plot, it’s quite clearly a deified narrator who’s skipping about amongst his fictional little humans. And with a confident and rambunctious smirk on his face.
You do get the impression there is an impish rapscallion Vonnegut audaciously pulling strings from his New York apartment, complete with typewriter and bench-top conventions. The book is jammed full of his endearing little illustrations. Aesthetic merit is unlikely to stopover near him any time soon, but the images do add another layer to the highly personalised prosodic slipstream.
What occupies the majority of the writing here are many, many asides. These range from expansive delves into background-character story, to ecological trivia. The tangents that this man’s mind rambles off on - it’s the literary equivalent of a one-way ticket to Mongolia.
Article comments
1 - Gordon Hauptfleisch
With your permission I would like to borrow the following phrases for my personal use: "prosodic slipstream," "boisterous fulmination" and "venomous serration." You know, work them into conversation, pizza orders, and such.
I of course will give you full credit.
2 - Mat Brewster
Stick around Gordon, and Sir Fleming will give you a few more nuggets before the night's over.
Sounds like a perfectly weird, nutty, wonderful book, like much of Vonnegut's work. I'll have to check it out soon.
3 - Mary K. Williams
That's our Sir Fleming, doing what he does best, putting words together in such interesting ways, AND making sense at the same time.
4 - Aaron Fleming
Gordon, you have my complete permission, those labourers down Pizza Hut avenue would love that I'm sure!
Making sense is always fun, I might play with it more often.
5 - Mark Saleski
nice review aaron. i haven't gone back to read any of vonnegut's stuff (not counting A Man Without A Country) since Galapagos came out.
maybe i should.
6 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
excellent review, Sir Fleming, and a new avenue explored herein, being the ol' Book Review. it makes sense that this avenue should be trundled along by those whiplash words o' yours. and i must read this number, owing to how you've done gone made it impossible not to. brilliant work, sir, says I.
7 - Mat Brewster
And then there is the Duke, who puts words together in such interesting ways, but doesn't make a lick of sense!
Just kiddin' Sir Duke, your words do all sorts of sense making and churn my innards into stars.
8 - Gordon Hauptfleisch
sense is overmisunderestimated, anyway.
9 - Natalie Bennett
This article has been selected for syndication to Advance.net, which is affiliated with newspapers around the United States. Nice work!
10 - Zakir Hemraj
Your style of writing is absolutely amazing. Very original, I love it.