Sometimes it’s worth reading a book twice. My first go at this darkly satirical novel with shades of science fiction was a mighty struggle, but then I really enjoyed it on a re-visit.
I’ve never read a Kurt Vonnegut novel before, so I wasn’t really sure what to expect from Cat’s Cradle. My very first impression from the very first page was that I rarely picked up a book with a more instantly alienating style. To continue with the feline theme, something about it made me feel like a cat stroked against the direction of its fur, except instead of hissing and running away I persevered.
The story is narrated by a writer called John, who in the beginning plans to write a book about the day the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. A logical person of interest is one of the creators of the bomb, brilliant Dr Felix Hoenikker, now deceased with three surviving children, all almost as eccentric as their father. One thing leads to another and eventually the narrator finds himself on the fictional island of San Lorenzo in a company of several bizarre and colourful characters. Oh and there’s also a substance called ice-nine, the last deadly invention of Dr Hoenikker, capable of turning the entire planet into a giant ball of ice.
The book is segmented into short, snappy chapters, some barely a few paragraphs in length and essentially a series of observations and snippets of conversations. On my first read, I have to say that Vonnegut’s writing style didn’t agree with me at all. His language is fairly simple, but it had a jarring quality that just rubbed me wrong, and the rambling, episodic narrative left me feeling constantly disoriented with nothing to really grab onto.
I also quickly realised that this wasn’t a book crafted around likeable or fully realised characters; not necessarily a flaw in a satire, but characters I could give a damn about might have made it go down better. There’s also a wince-inducing romantic subplot in the second half. At times it read like a cynical commentary on sexism, and other times I wasn’t sure if there weren’t genuine outdated sexual attitudes seeping through.
Yet even on my first frustrated read, I did find many things to admire about the book: its irreverence, sheer freewheeling inventiveness, black deadpan humour, weird situations and imagery, sarcastic commentary on the role of science, religion and art, colonialism and dictatorships, the human yearning for meaning and general absurdity of existence. It’s filled to the brim with timeless ideas relevant way beyond the Cold War era and its nuclear terror that clearly shaped the book. Despite the hilarity, Vonnegut’s view of humanity and its countless stupidities seems to be very much bleak and angry as hell.
(I also enjoyed the lore of Bokononism, a fictional religion practiced by the people of San Lorenzo, whose holy book declares it to be based entirely on lies on the very first page).
Though it left me with mixed feelings at best, there was obviously enough there to make me give Cat’s Cradle a second chance… and surprisingly, the book went down a treat on a repeat try, maybe because Vonnegut’s quirks had a chance to settle a bit. I still think that there’s a strangely adolescent vibe about the novel and that I probably would have gotten more out of it as a teenager, but at least I stopped thinking that this would be my first and last Vonnegut novel.
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