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Deadeye Dick
Deadeye Dick is Kurt Vonnegut’s funny, chillingly satirical look at the death of innocence. Amid a true Vonnegutian host of horrors—a double murder, a fatal dose of radioactivity, a decapitation, an annihilation of a city by a neutron bomb—Rudy Waltz, aka Deadeye Dick, takes us along on a zany search for absolution and happiness. Here is a tale of crime and punishment that makes us rethink what we believe . . . and who we say we are.
271 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1982
About the author
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
727 books37.8k followersKurt Vonnegut, Junior was an American novelist, satirist, and most recently, graphic artist. He was recognized as New York State Author for 2001-2003.
He was born in Indianapolis, later the setting for many of his novels. He attended Cornell University from 1941 to 1943, where he wrote a column for the student newspaper, the Cornell Daily Sun. Vonnegut trained as a chemist and worked as a journalist before joining the U.S. Army and serving in World War II.
After the war, he attended University of Chicago as a graduate student in anthropology and also worked as a police reporter at the City News Bureau of Chicago. He left Chicago to work in Schenectady, New York in public relations for General Electric. He attributed his unadorned writing style to his reporting work.
His experiences as an advance scout in the Battle of the Bulge, and in particular his witnessing of the bombing of Dresden, Germany whilst a prisoner of war, would inform much of his work. This event would also form the core of his most famous work, Slaughterhouse-Five, the book which would make him a millionaire. This acerbic 200-page book is what most people mean when they describe a work as "Vonnegutian" in scope.
Vonnegut was a self-proclaimed humanist and socialist (influenced by the style of Indiana's own Eugene V. Debs) and a lifelong supporter of the American Civil Liberties Union.
The novelist is known for works blending satire, black comedy and science fiction, such as Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), Cat's Cradle (1963), and Breakfast of Champions (1973)
He was born in Indianapolis, later the setting for many of his novels. He attended Cornell University from 1941 to 1943, where he wrote a column for the student newspaper, the Cornell Daily Sun. Vonnegut trained as a chemist and worked as a journalist before joining the U.S. Army and serving in World War II.
After the war, he attended University of Chicago as a graduate student in anthropology and also worked as a police reporter at the City News Bureau of Chicago. He left Chicago to work in Schenectady, New York in public relations for General Electric. He attributed his unadorned writing style to his reporting work.
His experiences as an advance scout in the Battle of the Bulge, and in particular his witnessing of the bombing of Dresden, Germany whilst a prisoner of war, would inform much of his work. This event would also form the core of his most famous work, Slaughterhouse-Five, the book which would make him a millionaire. This acerbic 200-page book is what most people mean when they describe a work as "Vonnegutian" in scope.
Vonnegut was a self-proclaimed humanist and socialist (influenced by the style of Indiana's own Eugene V. Debs) and a lifelong supporter of the American Civil Liberties Union.
The novelist is known for works blending satire, black comedy and science fiction, such as Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), Cat's Cradle (1963), and Breakfast of Champions (1973)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,569 reviews
August 6, 2021
Deadeye Dick is a one more proof that Kurt Vonnegut was an inimitable maestro of dark social satire…
The novel, like many other books of the author, is an artistic downbeat extravaganza about all sorts of misfits…
Misfits may be either ugly or beautiful… Misfits may be either rich or poor… Misfits can be self-styled or accidental… They can be products of society… They can be results of family upbringing… Or many various combinations of all those…
Life of misfit is a life anyway, and it must be lived.
The novel, like many other books of the author, is an artistic downbeat extravaganza about all sorts of misfits…
There stood my mother, Emma, who was herself a child. Outside of school, she had never had any responsibilities, any work to do. Her servants had raised her children. She was purely ornamental.
Nothing bad was supposed to happen to her – ever. But here she was in a thin bathrobe now, without her husband or servants, or her basso profundo elder son. And there I was, her gangling, flute-voiced younger son, a murderer.
Misfits may be either ugly or beautiful… Misfits may be either rich or poor… Misfits can be self-styled or accidental… They can be products of society… They can be results of family upbringing… Or many various combinations of all those…
I have never made love to anyone.
Nor have I tasted alcohol, except for homeopathic doses of it in certain recipes – but the others had been drinking champagne. Not since I was twelve, for that matter, have I swallowed coffee or tea, or taken a medicine, not even an aspirin or a laxative or an antacid or an antibiotic of any sort. This is an especially odd record for a person who is, as I am, a registered pharmacist, and who was the solitary employee on the night shift of Midland City’s only all-night drugstore for years and years.
So be it.
Life of misfit is a life anyway, and it must be lived.
October 12, 2021
What an interesting, unique book. I have read others by this author but way, way back in high school. This is my first for a long time and I really enjoyed it. An author’s main job is to make readers think, to spark emotions and Deadeye accomplishes both, what a read. The story is in first person and is written so close that the “I” disappears, terrific writing craft. I rarely, if ever experience a voice like this one. “Voice,” is the “everything” in writing and this one has it.
The structure is a running narrative that starts historical and moves forward. The conflict is not even set until page 21. The details—some of which are quirky—gives the prose authority, and at the same time authenticity that is irresistible. This creates a world that seems real and yet we know it can’t possibly be. And still I wanted to read on and on.
The book jacket reflects the quirky tone in the prose. It doesn’t have a written author description on the back flap, instead there’s a photo of the author’s legs that winds around to the back page to the author taking a nap on a couch with his cat. Brilliant marketing.
Well-wrought fiction sparks emotions, I cringed at the telling of Hitler and his father’s relationship with the despot. It made me stop and think this is also a sign of great fiction. And lots of irony, a thick sauce for the prose, made me chuckle at times.
If you want a break from your regular reading, if you want to clear your pallet with a bit of ginger the same as you would in a sushi restaurant, this is the book for you. It reminds me a little of Spooner by Pete Dexter, (I love Pete Dexter, especially Train and Paris Trout two marvelous books solid five star works).
David Putnam author of the Bruno Johnson series.
The structure is a running narrative that starts historical and moves forward. The conflict is not even set until page 21. The details—some of which are quirky—gives the prose authority, and at the same time authenticity that is irresistible. This creates a world that seems real and yet we know it can’t possibly be. And still I wanted to read on and on.
The book jacket reflects the quirky tone in the prose. It doesn’t have a written author description on the back flap, instead there’s a photo of the author’s legs that winds around to the back page to the author taking a nap on a couch with his cat. Brilliant marketing.
Well-wrought fiction sparks emotions, I cringed at the telling of Hitler and his father’s relationship with the despot. It made me stop and think this is also a sign of great fiction. And lots of irony, a thick sauce for the prose, made me chuckle at times.
If you want a break from your regular reading, if you want to clear your pallet with a bit of ginger the same as you would in a sushi restaurant, this is the book for you. It reminds me a little of Spooner by Pete Dexter, (I love Pete Dexter, especially Train and Paris Trout two marvelous books solid five star works).
David Putnam author of the Bruno Johnson series.
January 31, 2019
“I was the great marksman, anyway. If I aimed at nothing, then nothing is what I would hit.”
―Kurt Vonnegut, Deadeye Dick
This is one of those Vonnegut novels, I'll probably hold off giving to my son to read. Not yet son. You aren't quite ready for this depth of existentialist Vonnegut despair. The world is sometimes a rotten place, it really is, but I don't want to step on all his hope too early. Once when I was young, and I said something cynical and sarcastic in front of my father, he rebuked me and said, "Son, leave sarcasm, cynicism, and Depends® undergarments to men above the age of 50. It isn't becoming in a kid so young." I now get what he meant. This is Vonnegut for old, cynical Vonnegut fans wearing a comfortable pair of Depends®. This is for those of us in our Epilogue years.
There is always a darkness to Vonnegut that is masked by his humor and his nonchalance. You often forget that there is an actual 1000 foot canyon beneath Vonnegut as his prose dances on the line of absurdism, death, and inhumanity. In this novel, you don't forget. That is part of the act, see? Vonnegut is pointing out the bodies on the rocks below and blaming the audience a bit. Still, it is pretty damn good stuff.
―Kurt Vonnegut, Deadeye Dick
This is one of those Vonnegut novels, I'll probably hold off giving to my son to read. Not yet son. You aren't quite ready for this depth of existentialist Vonnegut despair. The world is sometimes a rotten place, it really is, but I don't want to step on all his hope too early. Once when I was young, and I said something cynical and sarcastic in front of my father, he rebuked me and said, "Son, leave sarcasm, cynicism, and Depends® undergarments to men above the age of 50. It isn't becoming in a kid so young." I now get what he meant. This is Vonnegut for old, cynical Vonnegut fans wearing a comfortable pair of Depends®. This is for those of us in our Epilogue years.
There is always a darkness to Vonnegut that is masked by his humor and his nonchalance. You often forget that there is an actual 1000 foot canyon beneath Vonnegut as his prose dances on the line of absurdism, death, and inhumanity. In this novel, you don't forget. That is part of the act, see? Vonnegut is pointing out the bodies on the rocks below and blaming the audience a bit. Still, it is pretty damn good stuff.
October 11, 2019
“I concluded that the best thing for me and for those around me was to want nothing, to be enthusiastic about nothing, to be as unmotivated as possible, in fact, so that I would never again hurt anyone.”
Kurt Vonnegut’s Deadeye Dick was meant, I think, to be read as the mundane experience of one family, interspersed with recipes and finally an admission on the part of the narrator of being a double murderer. The way Vonnegut writes this memoir doesn’t change after that; however, crazy moments continue to break through the surface and be recalled as if they were not at all remarkable. When the narrator later reveals that this life is predicated on the murders he committed and his attempt to be a ‘neuter’ and a pharmacist (who might have been a writer), the meaning of the memoir is transformed.
Along with the absurdity of life, Vonnegut takes on prescription drug use and responsible gun ownership. In Vonnegut style, Deadeye Dick ends in absurdity with the narrator experiencing a case of diarrhea accompanied by a sense of relief. Most of the action of Deadeye Dick occurs in the most ordinary city of Midland, Ohio, the setting for Breakfast of Champions. Not my favorite of Vonnegut’s many works, but it becomes increasingly interesting as it unfolds. 3.5 stars
Kurt Vonnegut’s Deadeye Dick was meant, I think, to be read as the mundane experience of one family, interspersed with recipes and finally an admission on the part of the narrator of being a double murderer. The way Vonnegut writes this memoir doesn’t change after that; however, crazy moments continue to break through the surface and be recalled as if they were not at all remarkable. When the narrator later reveals that this life is predicated on the murders he committed and his attempt to be a ‘neuter’ and a pharmacist (who might have been a writer), the meaning of the memoir is transformed.
Along with the absurdity of life, Vonnegut takes on prescription drug use and responsible gun ownership. In Vonnegut style, Deadeye Dick ends in absurdity with the narrator experiencing a case of diarrhea accompanied by a sense of relief. Most of the action of Deadeye Dick occurs in the most ordinary city of Midland, Ohio, the setting for Breakfast of Champions. Not my favorite of Vonnegut’s many works, but it becomes increasingly interesting as it unfolds. 3.5 stars
March 27, 2021
"My wife has been killed by a machine which should never have come into the hands of any human being. It is called a firearm. It makes the blackest of all human wishes come true at once, at a distance: that something die."
In the last ten days, there have been twelve mass shootings in the U.S. 28 people killed and an additional 42 injured. In ten days. And that's mass shootings, I didn't even look up the number for individual shootings.
What's perhaps more chilling than those numbers is that only two of them made it on the national news. Ten of them were obviously just normal, everyday killings. Nothing of interest here, folks. Move along now.
The two news-making mass shootings will have the following results: Democrats will vow to bring about gun reform and stricter gun laws. Republicans will cry that guns don't kill people, people kill people and it's our constitutional right to walk around slinging guns like we're still living in the Old Wild West.
The Democrats and Republicans both will wax poetic about how their thoughts and prayers are with the families. And nothing will be done.
In a week or two, both sides will have forgotten all about those killings and remain silent on the subject until the next news-worthy shooting takes place.
If Kurt Vonnegut were alive today, I'm sure he'd have an amusing and eloquent way to point out all the bullshit.
He's not alive but he did leave us Deadeye Dick, a satirical story about guns and bombs and humans killing humans. Rudy Waltz is just twelve years old when he accidentally shoots and kills a pregnant woman. This happens a few hours after his father boasts to Eleanor Roosevelt that he taught his sons how to use firearms at a young age because it ensured they would never have a shooting accident.
"He said most of the things the National Rifle Association still says about how natural and beautiful it is for Americans to have love affairs with guns." Safety habits, he explained, were second nature when you taught young kids how to use guns.
Yes, the world is much safer because we have guns.*
It's not just guns that play a role in killing people in Deadeye Dick. We also have tanks and war and neutron bombs. The government dropped one on a small city in Ohio, killing approximately one hundred thousand people. They did this to demonstrate how safe these bombs were, because there was no danger in visiting the city afterwards!
Vonnegut points out the idiocy of war and weapons with his signature subtle wit. As ghastly as it all was, it was entertaining. After all, providing entertainment is something we Americans do well. That, and shooting people. We do both exceptionally well.
*That's me being sarcastic.
In the last ten days, there have been twelve mass shootings in the U.S. 28 people killed and an additional 42 injured. In ten days. And that's mass shootings, I didn't even look up the number for individual shootings.
What's perhaps more chilling than those numbers is that only two of them made it on the national news. Ten of them were obviously just normal, everyday killings. Nothing of interest here, folks. Move along now.
The two news-making mass shootings will have the following results: Democrats will vow to bring about gun reform and stricter gun laws. Republicans will cry that guns don't kill people, people kill people and it's our constitutional right to walk around slinging guns like we're still living in the Old Wild West.
The Democrats and Republicans both will wax poetic about how their thoughts and prayers are with the families. And nothing will be done.
In a week or two, both sides will have forgotten all about those killings and remain silent on the subject until the next news-worthy shooting takes place.
If Kurt Vonnegut were alive today, I'm sure he'd have an amusing and eloquent way to point out all the bullshit.
He's not alive but he did leave us Deadeye Dick, a satirical story about guns and bombs and humans killing humans. Rudy Waltz is just twelve years old when he accidentally shoots and kills a pregnant woman. This happens a few hours after his father boasts to Eleanor Roosevelt that he taught his sons how to use firearms at a young age because it ensured they would never have a shooting accident.
"He said most of the things the National Rifle Association still says about how natural and beautiful it is for Americans to have love affairs with guns." Safety habits, he explained, were second nature when you taught young kids how to use guns.
Yes, the world is much safer because we have guns.*
It's not just guns that play a role in killing people in Deadeye Dick. We also have tanks and war and neutron bombs. The government dropped one on a small city in Ohio, killing approximately one hundred thousand people. They did this to demonstrate how safe these bombs were, because there was no danger in visiting the city afterwards!
Vonnegut points out the idiocy of war and weapons with his signature subtle wit. As ghastly as it all was, it was entertaining. After all, providing entertainment is something we Americans do well. That, and shooting people. We do both exceptionally well.
*That's me being sarcastic.
May 12, 2026
Deadeye Dick might be the angriest of Vonnegut's books: nuclear weapons, small-town life, hopeless parents and marriages, drug addiction, warped governments, racism, police brutality and gun laws. All here in this mulligan stew of righteous indignation.
October 8, 2025
*** 2019 reread
Many of Vonnegut’s books are set in or at least mention Midland City, Ohio. This was the canvas on which he painted so much of his great work, and therein resided so many of his recurring characters. It was to him as Yoknapatawpha County was to William Faulkner.
Deadeye Dick had so much in common with his 1973 work Breakfast of Champions, it could almost be a loose sequel. We walk the sidewalks and run into Dwayne Hoover, Celia Hoover, Fred Berry and maybe even a brief glimpse at our writer, in a similar fashion as he appeared in BOC.
Like so much of his work, and like most great fiction, it is about a great many things besides the surface story told. On the surface it is about a boy who, in a moment of reckless carelessness, does something terrible and about all the horrible consequences that flow from that sad event.
But step back from Vonnegut’s easel, take a broader look at what’s going on and, of course, KV has said much more, he has given us a cynical, satirical image of our world where wealth, privilege and apathy has left us with deadly playthings in the hands of children.
He also hints that these same children grow up to get their hands on much worse playthings.
A recurring theme (one of the many that likely provides a universal and timeless quality to his work) is the useless and passively dangerous idle rich man. Here we find Otto Waltz, the father of our narrator Rudy Waltz, who is a pharmaceutical heir and erstwhile painter. He is sent, before the first World War, to Vienna to develop his nonexistent artistic ability. The educational sojourn of course turns into a drinking and carousing boondoggle and Otto befriends a young Austrian painter who would later almost destroy the world.
Vonnegut takes us again on a roller coaster ride of American hopes and dreams, traveling through a kaleidoscope of the darker truths as well.
*** 2025 reread -
I liked this before and now I am very impressed with what our Hoosier god of irony has (again) accomplished.
Isn't that the way, especially with Vonnegut books, you read it the first time and its funny and thought provoking and then you read it again (and again!) and there are so many more details that stand up.
One way that I know that Uncle Kurt makes me think is that I come up with really obscure comparisons and references. Here I explored a comparison with Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.
I know right?
Let me explain. This 1982 satirical novel by Kurt Vonnegut is nothing like the 1741 sermon. But here's the thing: both works explore the consequences of a loss of innocence and, more importantly to Vonnegut's book, a perpetual and unapologetic, damn near intentional departure from ethical conduct that effects generations of sinners in the hands of a cynical and really pissed off midwestern deity.
Deadeye Dick contains oodles of references to his other works, most evidently Breakfast of Champions, but we can also see nods to Cat's Cradle, Jailbird, Blackbeard, and Mother Night. The comparison to Cat's Cradle was about Felix Hoenikker and his innocent creation of mass destruction.
And scat singing!
Zap zap wibby wobby zoot kahoot wizzy wee do dat scat atta zip doo!
Many of Vonnegut’s books are set in or at least mention Midland City, Ohio. This was the canvas on which he painted so much of his great work, and therein resided so many of his recurring characters. It was to him as Yoknapatawpha County was to William Faulkner.
Deadeye Dick had so much in common with his 1973 work Breakfast of Champions, it could almost be a loose sequel. We walk the sidewalks and run into Dwayne Hoover, Celia Hoover, Fred Berry and maybe even a brief glimpse at our writer, in a similar fashion as he appeared in BOC.
Like so much of his work, and like most great fiction, it is about a great many things besides the surface story told. On the surface it is about a boy who, in a moment of reckless carelessness, does something terrible and about all the horrible consequences that flow from that sad event.
But step back from Vonnegut’s easel, take a broader look at what’s going on and, of course, KV has said much more, he has given us a cynical, satirical image of our world where wealth, privilege and apathy has left us with deadly playthings in the hands of children.
He also hints that these same children grow up to get their hands on much worse playthings.
A recurring theme (one of the many that likely provides a universal and timeless quality to his work) is the useless and passively dangerous idle rich man. Here we find Otto Waltz, the father of our narrator Rudy Waltz, who is a pharmaceutical heir and erstwhile painter. He is sent, before the first World War, to Vienna to develop his nonexistent artistic ability. The educational sojourn of course turns into a drinking and carousing boondoggle and Otto befriends a young Austrian painter who would later almost destroy the world.
Vonnegut takes us again on a roller coaster ride of American hopes and dreams, traveling through a kaleidoscope of the darker truths as well.
*** 2025 reread -
I liked this before and now I am very impressed with what our Hoosier god of irony has (again) accomplished.
Isn't that the way, especially with Vonnegut books, you read it the first time and its funny and thought provoking and then you read it again (and again!) and there are so many more details that stand up.
One way that I know that Uncle Kurt makes me think is that I come up with really obscure comparisons and references. Here I explored a comparison with Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.
I know right?
Let me explain. This 1982 satirical novel by Kurt Vonnegut is nothing like the 1741 sermon. But here's the thing: both works explore the consequences of a loss of innocence and, more importantly to Vonnegut's book, a perpetual and unapologetic, damn near intentional departure from ethical conduct that effects generations of sinners in the hands of a cynical and really pissed off midwestern deity.
Deadeye Dick contains oodles of references to his other works, most evidently Breakfast of Champions, but we can also see nods to Cat's Cradle, Jailbird, Blackbeard, and Mother Night. The comparison to Cat's Cradle was about Felix Hoenikker and his innocent creation of mass destruction.
And scat singing!
Zap zap wibby wobby zoot kahoot wizzy wee do dat scat atta zip doo!
January 18, 2020
"To be is to do." Socrates
"To do is to be." Sartre
"Do be do be do." Sinatra
"To do is to be." Sartre
"Do be do be do." Sinatra
December 9, 2021
O! I am Fortune's fool!
People say this is a book about the death of innocence. I say, you want to feel sad a while? This Vonnegut's got you covered.
3.5 stars. A slice of realism that proves Vonnegut a strong writer of fiction period, not just the sci-fi variety. It shows a lot more restraint than Vonnegut's wilder works, but by being more subdued and less playful it seems less a parable and thus less universal.
People say this is a book about the death of innocence. I say, you want to feel sad a while? This Vonnegut's got you covered.
3.5 stars. A slice of realism that proves Vonnegut a strong writer of fiction period, not just the sci-fi variety. It shows a lot more restraint than Vonnegut's wilder works, but by being more subdued and less playful it seems less a parable and thus less universal.
February 5, 2016
"Deadeye Dick" starts out with a vintage Vonnegut gem, as the opening paragraph of chapter one is a lovely and unique statement about how we set our values in life. Actually it is about how our values are placed on us by the environment in which we are raised and nurtured. He sets up the motif of our lives as peepholes which open when we are born, and close when we die, and that is it. It is a clever and original method of presenting this thought.
This novel reads and feels like a typical Vonnegut in its style and simplicity, and I will not complain about that. The novel is told in first person by the protagonist Rudy Waltz (who earns the unfortunate nickname Deadeye Dick early in his life) and once again Vonnegut employs simple childlike language to deceive you into zipping along with the reading and then suddenly finding yourself immersed in the middle of a profound thought. Then you are stuck thinking about it, and it is off to the races. The narrative is told as Rudy recounts for us his life, and for the most part it is told in linear flashback scenes. Vonnegut also incorporates an interesting device here, as Rudy likes to examine bits of his life as little "playlets". This device is effective for a couple of reasons as it breaks up the narrative style of the novel, and it also highlights the idea of our lives as short bursts of theater or stories. We are all "tales told by an idiot signifying nothing."
Chapters twelve and thirteen of this text are mesmerizing in their simplicity and depth of theme, and in chapter twelve especially Vonnegut does something that is nothing short of amazing. He makes you feel immense and deserving pity for a person who accidently and arrogantly shot and killed a pregnant woman on Mother's Day. The reader finds themselves embarrassed when they recognize the fact that we seem to lose our humanity when we are confronted by the worst among us and fail to see that they too are human. Shame on us Vonnegut is saying, and it stings. Of special mention is an editorial that the husband of the murdered pregnant women writes in the local paper. It ends chapter thirteen, and although I don't agree with all of it, wow oh wow is Vonnegut on fire in this part of the book.
On page 127 of the novel Vonnegut put his theme right out there for all to see. Rudy has spent his life connecting with no one and nothing. He is a virgin, has no friends, no real career, etc. All of this out of fear of hurting other people. It is foolish nobility, as pain is a part of life and is to be accepted, maybe even embraced as a sign of being alive. Vonnegut seems to be saying that the tragedy in Rudy's, and our, life is not that he has done an awful deed that forever changed his and others lives. It is that he gave up and stopped living once it happened. Vonnegut is warning us... Not you too! You will hurt and be hurt, but live damn it!
At one point in the novel a character obsesses about a parachute while flying, wanting to guarantee a safe landing. "Deadeye Dick" seems to be saying keep looking, and don't stop flying in the meantime. Many reviews have said this is a dark novel. I disagree. I think it is urging us to live. At one point a character says, "This is as much Shangri-Lai as anywhere." That is the point folks. Embrace your own place in this world, and make it work to some extent. Rudy Waltz is the example of what not to be. Vonnegut is not celebrating him; he is using him as a warning bell.
Heed the warning, and read this book.
This novel reads and feels like a typical Vonnegut in its style and simplicity, and I will not complain about that. The novel is told in first person by the protagonist Rudy Waltz (who earns the unfortunate nickname Deadeye Dick early in his life) and once again Vonnegut employs simple childlike language to deceive you into zipping along with the reading and then suddenly finding yourself immersed in the middle of a profound thought. Then you are stuck thinking about it, and it is off to the races. The narrative is told as Rudy recounts for us his life, and for the most part it is told in linear flashback scenes. Vonnegut also incorporates an interesting device here, as Rudy likes to examine bits of his life as little "playlets". This device is effective for a couple of reasons as it breaks up the narrative style of the novel, and it also highlights the idea of our lives as short bursts of theater or stories. We are all "tales told by an idiot signifying nothing."
Chapters twelve and thirteen of this text are mesmerizing in their simplicity and depth of theme, and in chapter twelve especially Vonnegut does something that is nothing short of amazing. He makes you feel immense and deserving pity for a person who accidently and arrogantly shot and killed a pregnant woman on Mother's Day. The reader finds themselves embarrassed when they recognize the fact that we seem to lose our humanity when we are confronted by the worst among us and fail to see that they too are human. Shame on us Vonnegut is saying, and it stings. Of special mention is an editorial that the husband of the murdered pregnant women writes in the local paper. It ends chapter thirteen, and although I don't agree with all of it, wow oh wow is Vonnegut on fire in this part of the book.
On page 127 of the novel Vonnegut put his theme right out there for all to see. Rudy has spent his life connecting with no one and nothing. He is a virgin, has no friends, no real career, etc. All of this out of fear of hurting other people. It is foolish nobility, as pain is a part of life and is to be accepted, maybe even embraced as a sign of being alive. Vonnegut seems to be saying that the tragedy in Rudy's, and our, life is not that he has done an awful deed that forever changed his and others lives. It is that he gave up and stopped living once it happened. Vonnegut is warning us... Not you too! You will hurt and be hurt, but live damn it!
At one point in the novel a character obsesses about a parachute while flying, wanting to guarantee a safe landing. "Deadeye Dick" seems to be saying keep looking, and don't stop flying in the meantime. Many reviews have said this is a dark novel. I disagree. I think it is urging us to live. At one point a character says, "This is as much Shangri-Lai as anywhere." That is the point folks. Embrace your own place in this world, and make it work to some extent. Rudy Waltz is the example of what not to be. Vonnegut is not celebrating him; he is using him as a warning bell.
Heed the warning, and read this book.
April 4, 2026
Страшенно цікаво було би побачити реакцію Курта Воннеґута на те, чим американці займаються в наші дні. Він і без Дональда Трампа на чолі США не вирізнявся особливим оптимізмом щодо майбутнього нашого світу. Сьогодні, я впевнений, він би просто поїхав дахом і доживав віку в дурдомі.
Якщо у романі "Яблучко Дік", написаному в 1965 році, Курт Воннеґут каже, що "Ми все ще живемо в Темні віки. Темні віки — вони досі не закінчились.", то що може сказати пересічний українець зараз?
Цікаво, чи канадець Робертсон Девіс встиг прочитати цей роман Воннеґута перед тим, як взявся писати свою "П'яту фігуру"?
Я запитаю, бо визначальна подія в житті Руді Вальца, який дванадцятирічним хлопчаком в День матері знічев'я стріляє на горищі свого будинку з гвинтівки "Спрінгфілд" і випадково вбиває вагітну жінку, яка пилососить підлогу у себе вдома. Ця подія викликає миттєву асоціацію з початком "Депфордської трилогії", де у голову вагітної жінки прилітає кинута хлопчиком сніжка...
Але на цьому очевидна спорідненість вичерпується, а шукати пилинки-бісеринки неочевидних я не вчився та й просто лінуюся.
З невинного пасма невизначеного буття Рудольф Вальц оприявився у містечку Мідленд-Сіті в штаті Огайо в родині Отто Вальца, котрий в юності безпідставно пробував стати художником і завдяки цьому навіть заприятелював з Адольфом Гітлером, в якого за грубі гроші купив одну з картин.
А якби не купував і бездарний австрієць помер би з голоду і холоду під якимось із віденських мостів, то в якому б світі ми могли жити зараз?
Отто не став художником, але володів аптечним бізнесом і мав достатнью кількість грошей, щоби привезти з Європи не лише костюм офіцера угорської гвардії, в якому було використано пантерячу шкіру, але й величезну колекцію різноманітної вогнепальної зброї. Це запустило ланцюжок трагічних подій, які вплинули на подальшу долю всіх Вальців: Отто потрапив до в'язниці за убивство, якого не вчиняв, Руді прожив життя, нікого не любивши, а його мати померла через радіоактивний цемент в каміні їхнього будинку — і всі вони залишилися без копійки...
Таку книгу міг написати лише Курт Воннеґут: абсурдну, дивну, сумну, але теплу, цинічну, але ніжну. "Яблучко Дік" чудово читається, втім залишає набагато більше запитань, ніж може запропонувати відповідей.
Деякі з них абсолютно не стосується цього роману: яким буде наш світ після Дональда Трампа?
Зрештою, до дідька подробиці. Він взагалі буде?
Якщо у романі "Яблучко Дік", написаному в 1965 році, Курт Воннеґут каже, що "Ми все ще живемо в Темні віки. Темні віки — вони досі не закінчились.", то що може сказати пересічний українець зараз?
Цікаво, чи канадець Робертсон Девіс встиг прочитати цей роман Воннеґута перед тим, як взявся писати свою "П'яту фігуру"?
Я запитаю, бо визначальна подія в житті Руді Вальца, який дванадцятирічним хлопчаком в День матері знічев'я стріляє на горищі свого будинку з гвинтівки "Спрінгфілд" і випадково вбиває вагітну жінку, яка пилососить підлогу у себе вдома. Ця подія викликає миттєву асоціацію з початком "Депфордської трилогії", де у голову вагітної жінки прилітає кинута хлопчиком сніжка...
Але на цьому очевидна спорідненість вичерпується, а шукати пилинки-бісеринки неочевидних я не вчився та й просто лінуюся.
З невинного пасма невизначеного буття Рудольф Вальц оприявився у містечку Мідленд-Сіті в штаті Огайо в родині Отто Вальца, котрий в юності безпідставно пробував стати художником і завдяки цьому навіть заприятелював з Адольфом Гітлером, в якого за грубі гроші купив одну з картин.
А якби не купував і бездарний австрієць помер би з голоду і холоду під якимось із віденських мостів, то в якому б світі ми могли жити зараз?
Отто не став художником, але володів аптечним бізнесом і мав достатнью кількість грошей, щоби привезти з Європи не лише костюм офіцера угорської гвардії, в якому було використано пантерячу шкіру, але й величезну колекцію різноманітної вогнепальної зброї. Це запустило ланцюжок трагічних подій, які вплинули на подальшу долю всіх Вальців: Отто потрапив до в'язниці за убивство, якого не вчиняв, Руді прожив життя, нікого не любивши, а його мати померла через радіоактивний цемент в каміні їхнього будинку — і всі вони залишилися без копійки...
Таку книгу міг написати лише Курт Воннеґут: абсурдну, дивну, сумну, але теплу, цинічну, але ніжну. "Яблучко Дік" чудово читається, втім залишає набагато більше запитань, ніж може запропонувати відповідей.
Деякі з них абсолютно не стосується цього роману: яким буде наш світ після Дональда Трампа?
Зрештою, до дідька подробиці. Він взагалі буде?
March 13, 2019
Кърт Вонегът може да ти зареди батериите и да ти обясни какво значи да си жив.
Страхотен е.
Страхотен е.
January 14, 2020
“That is my principal objection to life, I think: It's too easy, when alive, to make perfectly horrible mistakes.”
if I have to describe the most pervasive theme of the book using one sentence, it would be this one. the protagonist, rudy waltz, accidently commits a double-murder when he is twelve, and the lives rest of his life as sort of a redemption for his horrible deed in the past- 'i concluded that the best thing for me and for those around me was to want nothing, to be enthusiastic about nothing, to be as unmotivated as possible, in fact, so that I would never again hurt anyone.'
there are moments in our lives where we find ourselves standing on the diverging paths, roads that lead us to different versions of ourselves. it is the our choices in those moments that come to define the rest of our lives - what if i had chosen a different college? what if i hadn't changed cities? what if i chose to give some relationships a second chance? what if i had gone to my grandmother's funeral, would i still be carrying guilt? what if, as rudy waltz would say, i hadn't fired a bullet into the seeming nothingness that day? but the thing about choices is, that sooner or later - we have to own them. we have to stop escaping our responsibilities by blaming the circumstances, the unfairness, the randomness of life. because if there is any connecting dot in our past and our future - it is our ability to make choices.
vonnegut, in his book, is trying to explain that the greatest tragedy in Rudy's life, and in ours, is not the occurrence of the murder, not our choices, rather the abandonment of them. Rudy, despite given another chance, fails to live - almost similar to us, when we fail to come out of our past selves.
my first by vonnegut, and i have to admit that nobody else could use the word 'peephole', still somehow manage to sound intelligent, write a book filled with various disturbing scenarios coated with his dark humor, and throw in recipes of dishes instead of acknowledgment of grief!
if I have to describe the most pervasive theme of the book using one sentence, it would be this one. the protagonist, rudy waltz, accidently commits a double-murder when he is twelve, and the lives rest of his life as sort of a redemption for his horrible deed in the past- 'i concluded that the best thing for me and for those around me was to want nothing, to be enthusiastic about nothing, to be as unmotivated as possible, in fact, so that I would never again hurt anyone.'
there are moments in our lives where we find ourselves standing on the diverging paths, roads that lead us to different versions of ourselves. it is the our choices in those moments that come to define the rest of our lives - what if i had chosen a different college? what if i hadn't changed cities? what if i chose to give some relationships a second chance? what if i had gone to my grandmother's funeral, would i still be carrying guilt? what if, as rudy waltz would say, i hadn't fired a bullet into the seeming nothingness that day? but the thing about choices is, that sooner or later - we have to own them. we have to stop escaping our responsibilities by blaming the circumstances, the unfairness, the randomness of life. because if there is any connecting dot in our past and our future - it is our ability to make choices.
vonnegut, in his book, is trying to explain that the greatest tragedy in Rudy's life, and in ours, is not the occurrence of the murder, not our choices, rather the abandonment of them. Rudy, despite given another chance, fails to live - almost similar to us, when we fail to come out of our past selves.
my first by vonnegut, and i have to admit that nobody else could use the word 'peephole', still somehow manage to sound intelligent, write a book filled with various disturbing scenarios coated with his dark humor, and throw in recipes of dishes instead of acknowledgment of grief!
January 28, 2024
Daily Vonnegut – Day 7.
“To be is to do” – Socrates
“To do is to be” – Jean-Paul Sartre
“Do be do be do” – Frank Sinatra
Rudy Waltz, a mostly autobiographical figure from Vonnegut. He does us the favour of “explaining” the symbols in the book in the preface. A bizarre tale with his father, Otto Waltz, who was Hitler’s friend back in art school and who paraded the Nazi flag in their living room. A tale of caution with gun control. But also a deeply moving plea in there, one that calls for attempting to understand your relationship with your parents and your family. Perhaps this last point is cheating, as I looked up a Vonnegut interview and looked at his face as he was talking. I read about his mother and her death by suicide. I felt my heart ache and I wanted to reach out and give him a hug. After the interview, I came back and continued reading. A lot of folks are all about removing the human element and separating the art from the artist, which is completely fair. But look here: separating the art from the artist in this case makes Vonnegut’s books a massive exercise in allegory, sarcastic and ironic and somewhat bitter, but ultimately optimistic about human nature. I am not a huge fan of the entirety of a novel being used as a vehicle for delivering a single message, so I read the book and see its point and either agree or disagree, but I want more. When I add the human element here, and god did Vonnegut seem to be a lovely human, it changes everything. It shouldn’t… but it does.
“To be is to do” – Socrates
“To do is to be” – Jean-Paul Sartre
“Do be do be do” – Frank Sinatra
Rudy Waltz, a mostly autobiographical figure from Vonnegut. He does us the favour of “explaining” the symbols in the book in the preface. A bizarre tale with his father, Otto Waltz, who was Hitler’s friend back in art school and who paraded the Nazi flag in their living room. A tale of caution with gun control. But also a deeply moving plea in there, one that calls for attempting to understand your relationship with your parents and your family. Perhaps this last point is cheating, as I looked up a Vonnegut interview and looked at his face as he was talking. I read about his mother and her death by suicide. I felt my heart ache and I wanted to reach out and give him a hug. After the interview, I came back and continued reading. A lot of folks are all about removing the human element and separating the art from the artist, which is completely fair. But look here: separating the art from the artist in this case makes Vonnegut’s books a massive exercise in allegory, sarcastic and ironic and somewhat bitter, but ultimately optimistic about human nature. I am not a huge fan of the entirety of a novel being used as a vehicle for delivering a single message, so I read the book and see its point and either agree or disagree, but I want more. When I add the human element here, and god did Vonnegut seem to be a lovely human, it changes everything. It shouldn’t… but it does.
October 6, 2024
Kurt Vonnegut’s 10th novel and more of life’s absurdity.
Vonnegut is one of those observers of life’s foolishness, its inanities. Who did he base Rudy Waltz on, the black sheep of the family and nicknamed "Deadeye Dick" for the accidental manslaughter of a neighbour? Rudy’s father was friends with Hitler and at one point was popular in the city they lived as he knew a head of state. Imagine that, one knows a head of state and everyone thinks you are a fine fellow indeed.
A neutron bomb exploded over the city. There is this passage in the book; “Nations might think of themselves as stories, and the stories end, but life goes on. Maybe my own country’s life as a story ended after the Second World War, when it was the richest and most powerful nation on earth, when it was going to ensure peace and justice everywhere, since it alone had the atom bomb.” Mankind’s lack of civility to his fellow man is an odd take when one considers that Vonnegut has said that there is at heart a goodness in us all. Bomb one of your own cities?
Rudy Waltz claims he is a neuter. If this is a comment on the human rights of minorities, and that Rudy’s dad was a Nazis, is the obliteration of an arts centred city some kind of metaphor I am missing?
At this point, I am an unmitigated Vonnegut fan; one has to be to read 10 of his novels in nine months.
As usual, Vonnegut give me plenty to think about even if I might not get it.
One more for the Vonnegut reader and recommended as such
My review of number 1 Player Piano.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 2 The Sirens Of Titan.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 3 Mother Night.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 4 Cats Cradle.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 5 God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 6 Slaughter House Five
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 7 Breakfast Of Champions.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 8 Slapstick, or Lonesome No More!
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 9 Jailbird.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Vonnegut is one of those observers of life’s foolishness, its inanities. Who did he base Rudy Waltz on, the black sheep of the family and nicknamed "Deadeye Dick" for the accidental manslaughter of a neighbour? Rudy’s father was friends with Hitler and at one point was popular in the city they lived as he knew a head of state. Imagine that, one knows a head of state and everyone thinks you are a fine fellow indeed.
A neutron bomb exploded over the city. There is this passage in the book; “Nations might think of themselves as stories, and the stories end, but life goes on. Maybe my own country’s life as a story ended after the Second World War, when it was the richest and most powerful nation on earth, when it was going to ensure peace and justice everywhere, since it alone had the atom bomb.” Mankind’s lack of civility to his fellow man is an odd take when one considers that Vonnegut has said that there is at heart a goodness in us all. Bomb one of your own cities?
Rudy Waltz claims he is a neuter. If this is a comment on the human rights of minorities, and that Rudy’s dad was a Nazis, is the obliteration of an arts centred city some kind of metaphor I am missing?
At this point, I am an unmitigated Vonnegut fan; one has to be to read 10 of his novels in nine months.
As usual, Vonnegut give me plenty to think about even if I might not get it.
One more for the Vonnegut reader and recommended as such
My review of number 1 Player Piano.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 2 The Sirens Of Titan.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 3 Mother Night.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 4 Cats Cradle.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 5 God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 6 Slaughter House Five
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 7 Breakfast Of Champions.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 8 Slapstick, or Lonesome No More!
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
My review of number 9 Jailbird.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
January 11, 2016
Description: Deadeye Dick is Kurt Vonnegut’s funny, chillingly satirical look at the death of innocence. Amid a true Vonnegutian host of horrors—a double murder, a fatal dose of radioactivity, a decapitation, an annihilation of a city by a neutron bomb—Rudy Waltz, aka Deadeye Dick, takes us along on a zany search for absolution and happiness. Here is a tale of crime and punishment that makes us rethink what we believe . . . and who we say we are.
Minorite Church Vienna by Adolf Hitler 1910-1912
Our narrator is the son of the artist who befriended Adolf Hitler. The recipes, who expected those?St Elmo's recipe: a mixture of grain alcohol, opium, and cocaine, it won't hurt you unless you stop taking it.
CR Deadeye Dick
3* Slaughterhouse-Five
4* Cat's Cradle
5* Mother Night
3* Galápagos
TR A Man Without a Country
TR Bluebeard
4* God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian
TR Palm Sunday: An Autobiographical Collage
3* Report on the Barnhouse Effect
3* Thanasphere
May 29, 2026
Hey, it's Vonnegut! I couldn't give it any less than 4 stars. I just don't think I can give it 5.
I did get caught up in the story of Rudy Waltz of Midland City, Ohio. At the age of twelve, Rudy went to the top of his rich daddy's house ( castle, really) and fired a rifle just because he wanted to do it. As he puts it, " I hadn't aimed at anything. If I thought of the bullet's hitting anything, I don't remember now. ..The bullet was a symbol, and nobody was ever hurt by a symbol. It was a farewell to my childhood and a confirmation of my manhood." It turns out that his bullet killed Eloise Metzger, a pregnant housewife shot dead while running a vacuum cleaner on the second floor of her home eight blocks away. And that's why Rudy went through the rest of his life with the nickname "Deadeye Dick."
I did get caught up in the story of Rudy Waltz of Midland City, Ohio. At the age of twelve, Rudy went to the top of his rich daddy's house ( castle, really) and fired a rifle just because he wanted to do it. As he puts it, " I hadn't aimed at anything. If I thought of the bullet's hitting anything, I don't remember now. ..The bullet was a symbol, and nobody was ever hurt by a symbol. It was a farewell to my childhood and a confirmation of my manhood." It turns out that his bullet killed Eloise Metzger, a pregnant housewife shot dead while running a vacuum cleaner on the second floor of her home eight blocks away. And that's why Rudy went through the rest of his life with the nickname "Deadeye Dick."
June 16, 2009
Before this, I had read a number of Vonnegut titles. But, unlike all of his other works that i have encountered, this one had a significant lack of "science" as far as the "science fiction" goes. There was no space opera that we find in The Sirens of Titan. There were no aliens, like in Slaughter-house 5 (and no time travel either). There was not a single gram of Ice-Nine nor was there an omniscient narrator that met his colorful creations at the end to give them advice. Apart from a neutron bomb at the end (which is a very real weapon), the book was largely mundane. But, it is this mediocrity that makes it exceptional.
Vonnegut has shown us the portrait of Midland City, in crystal clear 3D imaging. And, in doing so, he has provided us with a portrait of the quintessential American suburb. The main characters in this book all come from this negligible point on the map, and they all share in common key events: the local production of a Broadway flop, the worst blizzard of 1960, the double murder of an innocent mother and her unborn child, the senior prom of a certain Felix Waltz, and the atomic destruction of every life within city limits. These events may seem chaotically assembled, with no clear pattern between them. But, hey, so does the Midwest.
Everyone's favorite scifi satirist has proven in Deadeye Dick that he can take even the ordinary and turn it into something his readers just can't stop thinking about.
Good job, Kurt!
Vonnegut has shown us the portrait of Midland City, in crystal clear 3D imaging. And, in doing so, he has provided us with a portrait of the quintessential American suburb. The main characters in this book all come from this negligible point on the map, and they all share in common key events: the local production of a Broadway flop, the worst blizzard of 1960, the double murder of an innocent mother and her unborn child, the senior prom of a certain Felix Waltz, and the atomic destruction of every life within city limits. These events may seem chaotically assembled, with no clear pattern between them. But, hey, so does the Midwest.
Everyone's favorite scifi satirist has proven in Deadeye Dick that he can take even the ordinary and turn it into something his readers just can't stop thinking about.
Good job, Kurt!
May 9, 2018
The weakest Vonnegut book I've read so far (having read all except Player Piano and Hocus Pocus). Very little in the way of a story, which is not always a bad thing in itself, but it feels rather aimless and doesn't really go anywhere. It's a shame as it's full of brilliant Vonnegut-isms, little philosophical witticisms and remarks, but there's nothing really to hang it on. Actually, thinking about it, there is quite a lot going on, but it's rather a mess and without some kind of direction or story to hold it together, it reads less like a novel and somewhat like a compendium of existential sadness, and not in a good way.
As a Vonnegut fan I do not regret reading this, but it's not one I'll return to in a hurry, and I certainly would not recommend it to someone new to Vonnegut.
As a Vonnegut fan I do not regret reading this, but it's not one I'll return to in a hurry, and I certainly would not recommend it to someone new to Vonnegut.
June 5, 2018
What I take from reading this great book is that if you don't participate in the 'writing of your personal story', others may take over which - as is the case for the main character and his father in this book - can have tragic consequences. The two protagonists are being defined by the story a community tells about them and hence 'freezes' them into adopting identities they would either have to rebel against to break the spell or adopt and therefore remain stuck in a limbo forever. They opt for the latter and it's heart-breaking to read their journey, tragicomic at times and also thought-provoking because it made me question to what extent one can truly condemn another human being for a tragic mistake, what the basis for atonement would be and on what evidence one would be entitled to judge the situation in the first place. It's my second Vonnegut book and I look forward to reading more of his work!
August 23, 2012
Personally, this is one of, if not, my most favorite book of all time. I feel like it doesn't get as much praise as it should in the way that Vonnegut gives you a character that is human, but because of his life has become something more like a creature than anything else and finds so much difficulty interacting with other humans and able to understand the things they do and what he should do because he has been made out to be so alien from the moments when he was young all the way up to adulthood. The situations Rudy gets himself into are hilarious, but sad at the same time and it leaves you questioning the things you're laughing at and if you should be laughing at all. It's uncomfortable at times and emotionally confusing and I think that makes it really moving. I loved it. Check it out!
February 21, 2023
Reading Vonnegut's novels in chronological order I'm starting to see repetition of themes and characters. Yet again we have a deeply flawed late middle aged man reflecting on his life which is defined by an awful event.
This time around I wasn't too bothered by the characters.
This time around I wasn't too bothered by the characters.
May 20, 2026
Це дуже дивний досвід. З одного боку, роман ніби про випадковий постріл, нейтронну бомбу, війну, американську культуру зброї й абсурд цивілізації. З іншого - це книжка про людей, які відчувають, що їхнє життя вже давно перейшло в епілог.
Дуже зачепила думка про те, що люди постійно намагаються зробити зі свого життя “гарну історію”. А Воннеґут ніби каже: життя не зобов’язане складатися в красивий сюжет. Іноді одна випадкова секунда руйнує все, і далі людина просто живе “після”.
Після Другої світової Воннеґут дуже не довіряє будь-яким великим наративам - про героїзм, велич нації, історичну місію. Його “Темні віки досі не закінчилися” звучить не як фраза про минуле, а як діагноз людству, яке навчилося робити дедалі складніші способи вбивати одне одного, але не стало морально мудрішим.
При цьому мені було цікаво сперечатися з романом. Бо Воннеґут дуже переконливо показує жах війни й масового насильства, але майже не дає відповіді, що робити з агресором у реальному світі. І це відчувається особливо гостро зараз. Війна справді жахлива - але коли йдеться про захист себе, сам пацифізм не дуже працює як відповідь.
І все ж у нього є щось дуже людське. Попри весь песимізм, у романі постійно лишаються маленькі речі: їжа, жарти, побут, дивні розмови, випадкові моменти доброти. Ніби глобально людство може бути катастрофою, але окремі люди все ще мають сенс одне для одного.
Дуже зачепила думка про те, що люди постійно намагаються зробити зі свого життя “гарну історію”. А Воннеґут ніби каже: життя не зобов’язане складатися в красивий сюжет. Іноді одна випадкова секунда руйнує все, і далі людина просто живе “після”.
Після Другої світової Воннеґут дуже не довіряє будь-яким великим наративам - про героїзм, велич нації, історичну місію. Його “Темні віки досі не закінчилися” звучить не як фраза про минуле, а як діагноз людству, яке навчилося робити дедалі складніші способи вбивати одне одного, але не стало морально мудрішим.
При цьому мені було цікаво сперечатися з романом. Бо Воннеґут дуже переконливо показує жах війни й масового насильства, але майже не дає відповіді, що робити з агресором у реальному світі. І це відчувається особливо гостро зараз. Війна справді жахлива - але коли йдеться про захист себе, сам пацифізм не дуже працює як відповідь.
І все ж у нього є щось дуже людське. Попри весь песимізм, у романі постійно лишаються маленькі речі: їжа, жарти, побут, дивні розмови, випадкові моменти доброти. Ніби глобально людство може бути катастрофою, але окремі люди все ще мають сенс одне для одного.
September 18, 2020
Deadeye Dick is an expression that just a few English-speakers would understand. Deadeye is a common name of a sailing boat device to get tight ropes. Deadeye Dick is, in some American Middle West places, a nickname for someone with fire arms expertise, a marksman, and the author explains it to us from the very beginning of the novel.
Can the protagonist of a novel get a gun by the first time in his life, and, firing a rifle out his family’s upstairs window hits a pregnant neighbor woman between the eyes… on a Mother’s Day? Would it be funny to anybody? It’s hard to believe. But, which author would be able to do it? Answer: just one being a genuine Black Comedy master. And that’s the case of Kurt Vonnegut Jr., the author of this great nonsense, as well as several others around his central character, Rudy Waltz who, in a first-person narrative and an elderly man, tells us his outlandish life, starting with his German father, ex schoolmate of Adolf Hitler, when both of them were art students at Vienna, before de Great War. Hitler used to be a poor boy, at a point of starving to death, if it hadn’t been for a painting his father bought from him. Thanks to it, according Rudy Waltz, Hitler kept alive —and the rest is History. There is also a Neutron Bomb in this novel that leaves peacefully empty an entire town, cook recipes which won’t be taken seriously, and the exile of the main character in a Haiti’s hotel, where he takes refuge chasing by the bad conscience of his only one crime and not knowing really whether he has becoming homosexual or not. One more time, Vonnegut Jr. has committed himself to his antiheroes when is about to show us the appalling side of society, and he does it through that kind of tender cynicism, by showing them to us like victims of a world where we can be saved with that liberating guffaw that he, from his elaborated sense of absurd, gives to us.
Can the protagonist of a novel get a gun by the first time in his life, and, firing a rifle out his family’s upstairs window hits a pregnant neighbor woman between the eyes… on a Mother’s Day? Would it be funny to anybody? It’s hard to believe. But, which author would be able to do it? Answer: just one being a genuine Black Comedy master. And that’s the case of Kurt Vonnegut Jr., the author of this great nonsense, as well as several others around his central character, Rudy Waltz who, in a first-person narrative and an elderly man, tells us his outlandish life, starting with his German father, ex schoolmate of Adolf Hitler, when both of them were art students at Vienna, before de Great War. Hitler used to be a poor boy, at a point of starving to death, if it hadn’t been for a painting his father bought from him. Thanks to it, according Rudy Waltz, Hitler kept alive —and the rest is History. There is also a Neutron Bomb in this novel that leaves peacefully empty an entire town, cook recipes which won’t be taken seriously, and the exile of the main character in a Haiti’s hotel, where he takes refuge chasing by the bad conscience of his only one crime and not knowing really whether he has becoming homosexual or not. One more time, Vonnegut Jr. has committed himself to his antiheroes when is about to show us the appalling side of society, and he does it through that kind of tender cynicism, by showing them to us like victims of a world where we can be saved with that liberating guffaw that he, from his elaborated sense of absurd, gives to us.
November 30, 2019
От трите (поредни при това) книги на Вонегът, които прочетох, тази беше най-лесна за четене, историята беше най-последователна, без прекалено много отклонения. Но и много герои и подробности вече ми бяха известни от Закуска за шампиони. И въпреки че другите две бяха по-шантави и оплетени, ми бяха и по-замислящи. Най-много харесвам Котешка люлка, засега... ще чета и други негови, но не скоро, защото се преситих с Вонегът. :)
May 8, 2025
A few questions prompted by my reading of Deadeye Dick:
Had Adolf Hitler been more successful as an artist, would it have altered the course of history?
*
What was a pregnant Midland City mother doing operating a vaccuum cleaner on Mother's Day?
*
How many journeys in search of Shangri-la have been inspired by James Hilton's Lost Horizon?
*
Why are some idiot Americans still so obsessed with guns and so afraid of gun control?
One can be answered more or less by Google, one only by Vonnegut himself, one would require a time machine, and regarding the other I have several theories ranging from overcompensating for something else to the fear of confronting the monster/vacuous nothingness that is each of us. This is the story of Nobodies who wanted to be Somebodies only to discover that every Somebody is a Nobody regardless. Our peepholes open and our peepholes close and what happens in between is of very little consequence to the great majority. Inspiring, isn't it? A sort of companion piece to Breakfast of Champions, although the scope of Vonnegut's universe never ceases to astound me.
Had Adolf Hitler been more successful as an artist, would it have altered the course of history?
*
What was a pregnant Midland City mother doing operating a vaccuum cleaner on Mother's Day?
*
How many journeys in search of Shangri-la have been inspired by James Hilton's Lost Horizon?
*
Why are some idiot Americans still so obsessed with guns and so afraid of gun control?
One can be answered more or less by Google, one only by Vonnegut himself, one would require a time machine, and regarding the other I have several theories ranging from overcompensating for something else to the fear of confronting the monster/vacuous nothingness that is each of us. This is the story of Nobodies who wanted to be Somebodies only to discover that every Somebody is a Nobody regardless. Our peepholes open and our peepholes close and what happens in between is of very little consequence to the great majority. Inspiring, isn't it? A sort of companion piece to Breakfast of Champions, although the scope of Vonnegut's universe never ceases to astound me.
April 20, 2017
Oko sokolovo (Deadeye Dick) jedan je pravi vašar sjebanosti. Mislim da je to sintagma koja će mi definitivno biti dugo prva asocijacija na ovu knjigu. Dobar vašar, naravno. A zašto? Evo samo nekih stvari koje su stale u priču o jednoj porodici u jednom gradiću i nekim osoba koje su na ovaj ili onaj način dovedene s njima u ovakvu ili onakvu vezu: nezdravi porodični odnosi, posljedice (nuklearnog) naoružanja, amfetamini, konzumerizam, rasizam, životinjska priroda čovjeka, nasilje, ratovanje... A sve prikazano tako da vas nerijetko tjera da se smijete stepenu apsurdnosti, ali pri tome osjećate grč, jer znate da je taj humor proistekao iz nevjerovatno razgranate ljudske sjebanosti.
August 23, 2024
Life means nothing! You live you die! Go get some ice cream or something!
July 6, 2026
This is one of the saddest books I've read recently.
This is one of the funniest books I've read recently.
One feeling does not cancel out the other. Vonnegut has seamlessly mixed the two, page by page by page.
In 'Deadeye Dick' tone is everything. If you find yourself unprepared as to what to expect going in, you might start believing the book is depressing as hell. And, in a certain light, that could very well be. But not in Vonnegut's true, somewhat side-splitting sardonic light. He is not so much writing a book as he is holding up a funhouse mirror to the mind-numbing unreality that is this reality we call 'life'.
'Deadeye Dick' is rather like a bipolar, vintage Warner Bros. cartoon. 'Tongue-in-cheek' gets a whole new look.
There's no real plot. Capsulizing would be next to impossible, since the entire 'storyline' shifts from chapter to chapter (though it actually feels more like from line to line).
Essentially, narrator Rudy Waltz tells us all about the black cloud that has hovered over him since birth. In the first line, he refers to himself as "an innocent wisp of undifferentiated nothingness". A cypher. But that's not just low self-esteem talking. Rudy feels that includes all of mankind. We're born without meaning, then live and die that way.
Rudy has even come to feel neutered:
Rudy is something of a natural storyteller. And a writer. He's known for writing one play. A really bad one, one that nevertheless opens in New York City - and closes in one night, playing to a receding audience.
In retrospect, Rudy's life has been cursed since the day in his young life when he was shooting off one of his father's many, many guns and, by way of a rogue bullet, accidentally killed a pregnant woman (thus earning himself a moniker).
Ostensibly, 'Deadeye Dick' is Vonnegut's statement about the obscene proliferation of guns in America. At one point, he says it directly:
But I'll let Rudy tell you his VistaVision story himself. ~ except to say I'm agreeing with his main conclusion:
Oh, and Rudy also seems to be something of a chef. His book is sprinkled with recipes throughout. Sort of mouth-watering, actually.
This is one of the funniest books I've read recently.
One feeling does not cancel out the other. Vonnegut has seamlessly mixed the two, page by page by page.
In 'Deadeye Dick' tone is everything. If you find yourself unprepared as to what to expect going in, you might start believing the book is depressing as hell. And, in a certain light, that could very well be. But not in Vonnegut's true, somewhat side-splitting sardonic light. He is not so much writing a book as he is holding up a funhouse mirror to the mind-numbing unreality that is this reality we call 'life'.
'Deadeye Dick' is rather like a bipolar, vintage Warner Bros. cartoon. 'Tongue-in-cheek' gets a whole new look.
There's no real plot. Capsulizing would be next to impossible, since the entire 'storyline' shifts from chapter to chapter (though it actually feels more like from line to line).
Essentially, narrator Rudy Waltz tells us all about the black cloud that has hovered over him since birth. In the first line, he refers to himself as "an innocent wisp of undifferentiated nothingness". A cypher. But that's not just low self-esteem talking. Rudy feels that includes all of mankind. We're born without meaning, then live and die that way.
Rudy has even come to feel neutered:
I think I am a homosexual, but I can't be sure. I have never made love to anyone.All of this might be seen as existential nihilism - except that Rudy isn't at all interested in an alternate subjective meaning for himself. It sounds like he just wants to get it all over with:
I wanted to get into my bed and pull the covers over my head. That was my plan. That is still pretty much my plan.~ but he also wants to leave us with his story.
Rudy is something of a natural storyteller. And a writer. He's known for writing one play. A really bad one, one that nevertheless opens in New York City - and closes in one night, playing to a receding audience.
In retrospect, Rudy's life has been cursed since the day in his young life when he was shooting off one of his father's many, many guns and, by way of a rogue bullet, accidentally killed a pregnant woman (thus earning himself a moniker).
Ostensibly, 'Deadeye Dick' is Vonnegut's statement about the obscene proliferation of guns in America. At one point, he says it directly:
I give you a holy word: DISARM.It's not just a warning re: guns. The town in Ohio that Rudy hails from is leveled by a neutron bomb (The suggestion is that the US government was behind that. Apparently Rudy doesn't shy away from conspiracy theories.)
But I'll let Rudy tell you his VistaVision story himself. ~ except to say I'm agreeing with his main conclusion:
We all see our lives as stories, it seems to me, and I am convinced that psychologists and sociologists and historians and so on would find it useful to acknowledge that. If a person survives an ordinary span of sixty years or more, there is every chance that his or her life as a shapely story has ended, and all that remains to be experienced is epilogue. Life is not over but the story is. ... Maybe my own country's life as a story ended after the Second World War, when it was the richest and most powerful nation on earth, when it was going to ensure peace and justice everywhere, since it alone had the atom bomb.Who wants to bet on what's in that sentiment?
Oh, and Rudy also seems to be something of a chef. His book is sprinkled with recipes throughout. Sort of mouth-watering, actually.
August 15, 2011
I like different Vonnegut novels for different reasons. I enjoyed the space epic that was The Sirens of Titan for the scale of its journey. I liked Slaughterhouse-5 for the incredibly powerful anti-war message it conveyed —not to mention its absurd sadness. Mother Night was beautiful in a picturesque way. I actually thought Galapagos was a little dry, but the ideas it explored made it more memorable than some other works. What was common to all of them was the strength of the satire and the gripping prose that made it a pleasure to devour these novels.
The plot of Deadeye Dick is something I fear I'll forget when I think back to it. I'll remember Rudy Waltz's unfortunate double murder and the name he had to live with forevermore, but everything else will likely remain blurry with only the characters' attempts at escapes from their demons remaining vaguely memorable. Nevertheless, what I will remember about Deadeye Dick is the emotions that I had the fortune of tangling with whilst reading. I'll remember how gripping the novel was, I'll remember wading through the characters' sadness and melancholy, I'll remember the glimpses of the terrifying and most importantly, I'll remember how certain parts were able to unleash my laughter.
While it may not measure up to other Vonnegut novels, I can safely say that I thought Deadeye Dick was absolutely brilliant.
The plot of Deadeye Dick is something I fear I'll forget when I think back to it. I'll remember Rudy Waltz's unfortunate double murder and the name he had to live with forevermore, but everything else will likely remain blurry with only the characters' attempts at escapes from their demons remaining vaguely memorable. Nevertheless, what I will remember about Deadeye Dick is the emotions that I had the fortune of tangling with whilst reading. I'll remember how gripping the novel was, I'll remember wading through the characters' sadness and melancholy, I'll remember the glimpses of the terrifying and most importantly, I'll remember how certain parts were able to unleash my laughter.
While it may not measure up to other Vonnegut novels, I can safely say that I thought Deadeye Dick was absolutely brilliant.
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