Hard at blogging because he saw his friends blogging and wanted to fit in.
Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
Sometimes I find the whole self-aware post-modern prose to be a tad trite, but Vonnegut is just so damned readable and fun that I can’t help to grin when he suddenly breaks from the story to reveal a private detail about his personal life— or writes up a string of seemingly superfluous but somehow necessary character details like various women’s breast-to-hip-to-waist ratios, or men’s penis length and girth measurements. I really liked this book, including Vonnegut’s frequent drawings, especially his take on what an asshole looks like (ostensibly it’s an asterisk).
