Look! It's a novel that's not speculative fiction! And more weirdly, it's a Kurt Vonnegut book that's not speculative fiction. Bluebeard is the "autobiography" of Rabo Karabekian, an Armenian painter who fights for the U.S. in World War Two, and later, by complete accident, becomes one of the richest artists in the world. He retires to a life of relative solitude and zany contemplations in the Hamptons of Long Island until a nosy widow named Circe invites herself over to his house, where she sets about discovering all of his secrets and helping him to wake up as a person.
On the surface, Vonnegut is just about the opposite of most of my favorite authors. His narrative flow is sporadic beyond belief, his characters are often clueless jackasses, and his language is coarse and irreverent. He breaks just about every rule I try to follow in my own writing.
And with this he makes masterpieces.
I've been told I've been lucky in my pick of Vonnegut novels so far. Four out of the first five I read were Slaughterhouse Five, Cat's Cradle, Breakfast of Champions, and The Sirens of Titan. He's not a man who can write consistently great books, or so they say. However, his inconsistency is a treat when he writes un-formulaic greats. More than anything, he knows he's telling a story, and every story he tells is bizarre and laughable in its own way.
I admit that Bluebeard exceeded my expectations mostly because my roommate Aaron told me it's one of Vonnegut's worse books. It really doesn't have the same punch as the books I mentioned above, but this doesn't make it too weak to read. Compared only to itself, it's worth the time.
To begin, Rabo is a rather strange narrator. He's looking back on his life, and his headstrong youth clashes with his style and outlook, which are overtly Vonnegut's. Rabo's parents are both survivors of the Turkish Armenian genocide, escaped to America by a series of accidents. His father makes cowboy boots, and I seem to remember his mother is a teacher, while young Rabo aspires to "higher art." He snags an apprenticeship with Dan Gregory, a world-famous artist in New York, and is later sent to war as a camouflage expert. After the war, he experiences an unhappy marriage and becomes a world-famous abstract artist. His career falls apart when his masterpieces literally fall apart due to a defect in the "miracle paint" he used, but he uses money he inherits from his second wife to become a hermit until the time of the story's outset.
I'm not spoiling a thing: Vonnegut announces all this within the first few pages. It's typical of him to spell out the entire frame of the plot, and then to carry the reader onward with the exciting details of how the protagonist got to each place. Accidents and coincidences far more common than logical conclusions.
There's another important thing that any Vonnegut reader knows: the book rides on its humor. Most important events are punctuated with remarks to the reader, like "What a haul!" and "Cancel my subscription!" Such gags are never lacking in Bluebeard. If anything, they're the most successful part of the book.
Aaron and I noticed another thing. I have a tendency to be hugely confused by any kind of social politics, cultural pride, stereotyping, and the like. This is probably a symptom of reading far too much Vonnegut. As unique as each of his books is, every one contains the message: "Why are we so caught up with forming teams against one another? Can't a person try to do good for everybody?" In my opinion, it's not a bad cry to rally around.
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