Haiku Cuckoo

Are you cuckoo for haiku?

I remember writing haiku in school. It was a popular assignment all-around because it required so little effort. Kids could write it easily. Teachers could grade it quickly and kindly. What wasn’t to like?

Years down the road and looking at it from an adult perspective, little has changed. Most Americans seem to like haiku without taking it very seriously. It still has that mass, anyone-can-do-it appeal, and I like it that way. It’s Everyman’s approach to poetry, the fast lane to beautiful and economical use of the language.

True, there are some people who insist on taking English-language haiku seriously, and that’s fine as long as they don’t try to spoil the fun for the rest of us.

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Not a Knee-Slapper

Slapstick by Kurt Vonnegut

Grade: B

Though Vonnegut never once mentioned the word granfalloon, this story is about the greatest group of granfalloons ever invented. The president of the United States thinks that artificial families will make everyone “lonesome no more,” so he designs a system of randomly-assigned middle names (e.g., Daffodil-11) to give each person an adopted family of thousands. After most of the population is decimated by disease, the president finds his way to Manhattan, where he becomes a sort of king in the ruins of the American way of life. The artificial families that he invented become the means by which people join together and help one another in the postapocalyptic world. It is utterly unbelievable, as is the backstory about the president’s birth and upbringing (he had a twin sister; both of them were monstrous-looking at birth and assumed to be idiots, so they were never educated, yet they developed a genius combined intellect).

So the story is so-so and the repetition of the phrase “Hi ho” is enough to drive one insane. Slapstick does not rank among Vonnegut’s best, but it is worth reading for the prologue. It’s a shame he didn’t write the rest of the book in the same vein.

My favorite passage is from the prologue.

Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go looking for it, and I think it can often be poisonous.

I wish that people who are conventionally supposed to love each other would say to each other, when they fight, “Please—a little less love, and a little more common decency.”

Next up in the Vonnegut Marathon is Jailbird. Give me a little time to recover from all that “Hi ho” and then we’ll see what Jailbird has to offer.

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New TV

Television screen:
Not for sun, not for rain
Inside only sparkling

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Doggone It!

I read a strange book recently. I had picked it up at an overstock store, so I expected absolutely nothing from it. Consequently, it had a real chance to dazzle me, and dazzle me it did.

Lives of Monster Dogs by Kirsten Bakis

Grade: A

Lives of Monster Dogs is the author’s first and only published novel. I know because the first thing I did after finishing this book was to go online to see if she had written anything else. Its flaws—an underdeveloped premise, an unsatisfactory ending, an intriguing history left unfinished—are ones that a gifted writer of this magnitude is unlikely to make again given some additional experience, and they are not nearly bad enough to ruin the overall effect. It is a beautiful, wistful, haunting story.

Bakis quickly and deftly drew me into the lives of the mad scientist, the race of intelligent dogs that he creates, and the woman who befriends the dogs when they come to live in New York. I was hooked by the fourth paragraph:

Those things are always amazing—the hour before you meet the person you’re going to marry, the last time you speak to someone before they die, even the moment before someone calls you, when they’re reaching for the telephone and you don’t know it yet. Those currents just beneath the surface of your life, separating and converging, all the time.

The story is akin to The Island of Doctor Moreau and Frankenstein, comparisons which put the author up against some revered names in fiction. It is unique, though, and so well-written that I think Bakis can stand in the company of Wells and Shelley without embarrassment. I hope she will publish another novel soon.

I had planned to put this book on the Chopping Block and open up some shelf space, but it’s a keeper. Doggone it!

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Christmas Comes Early

As I was finishing up the post about our selfish spending, I heard a knock on the door. It was a couple of delivery men wanting to drop off our new TV, almost a week early!

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Selfish Spending

While most people have been out wildly spending on gifts for others, Faithful Reader and I have been out selfishly spending on ourselves.

First, we bought a king size bed so that we might sleep without smacking each other around all night. We topped it with a soft down comforter in a white duvet cover. We call this new sleep haven “The Cloud.”

Next, we bought a big-screen TV. It hasn’t been delivered yet, but we are looking forward to finally being able to see fine details, like actors’ facial features, which have long been obscured by the blurry picture on our old TV. And what’s the good of a new TV without a PlayStation 3? We will never have to find out, because we got one of those, too.

Then we bought a sofa and love seat. Our current living-room set is comprised of two chairs with a beat-up old coffee table between them. Needless to say, we haven’t had many guests over. The new set is inexpensive but surprisingly attractive. It will arrive some time on Monday and, we hope, finally make this place feel like a home. The salesman who sold it to us had a remarkable mustache, possibly an an intelligent life form in its own right, and I hope that it gets a share of the commission.

Now, with less that a month to go before Christmas, we have just one selfish thing left to buy: a Christmas tree!

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Reality Check

I keep thinking that someday I will invite other readers to my blog, but first I want to go back and . . .

  • Fix all the tags and categories.
  • Add all the pictures I meant to use.
  • Remove everything lame/embarrassing.

But realistically, is that ever going to happen? And if I go back and remove things because I’m ashamed to have others read them, then doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose of having a blog?

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November’s End

November is officially over and so too is NaNoWriMo. Did I win? Nope.

My total word count: 2,363

Did I learn anything from the experience? Of course.

  • Having something big to procrastinate over can motivate you to finish other, smaller tasks.
  • Never underestimate the spirit of competition.
  • It’s easier to write a novel if you already have a story idea.
  • Hope springs damned near eternal. I truly believed up until this week that I would finish.
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They Were Doomed

Here’s a favorite excerpt from Breakfast of Champions to keep you warmed up for the marathon.

“Earthlings went on being friendly, when they should have been thinking instead. And even when they built computers to do some thinking for them, they designed them not so much for wisdom as for friendliness. They were doomed.”

When I read this, it seemed like Vonnegut had reached into my mind and put into words my dislike for the way some people use technology. For too many people in this country, technology is not about “wisdom” (clearer thinking, pursuit of knowledge, real communication), but rather about friendliness. Friendliness is superficial. It is smiles and waves and small talk. Nice? Sure. Ultimately worth the cost of the supporting technology? Not even close. And if you start to think of what we could accomplish as a species if we spent less time texting and more time actually communicating, it’s downright depressing.

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Breakfast with Vonnegut

Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut

Grade: B

Breakfast of Champions is my least favorite Vonnegut novel so far. He said in the book that he was trying to clear his head, and the novel came off as deeply personal, but I don’t know enough about the man to say if he was serious or not. He also said that he wanted to be impolite. That I can say he was.

Don’t get me wrong. This book has plenty of Vonnegut’s trademark humor. It also has more than we’ve ever seen before of Kilgore Trout. Those are definite assets, but part of the problem with the book is that it’s recycled material. It covers much of the same territory as Slaughterhouse-Five, but without the same inventiveness and cohesiveness, so I recommend it only for die-hard Vonnegut fans who aren’t easily offended.

Listen: Here’s what happens. Dwayne Hoover, a man on the edge of insanity, meets up with Kilgore Trout. Trout’s strange sci-fi ideas take root in Dwayne’s mind, and the consequences aren’t pretty. That’s the surface story. On another level, the author deals with his own issues, including his mother’s suicide, and as the Creator, frees his alter ego, Kilgore Trout.

Next up in the marathon is Slapstick, published back in 1976 when I was but a wee lass.

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