A Blog without a Country

So, Kurt Vonnegut died, huh? It's a little surprising, I imagine, for some of you to hear that I've only read one Vonnegut book - his most recent one. He's an American literary icon, and I've only taken it upon myself to read one measly novel? On top of that, I didn't even technically read it! Audiobooks!
So I've now decided that I will read his corpus by the end of the year. I've got one out of the way - only like 18 more! Fortunately, I own Slaughterhouse-Five. He's a satirist, so I imagine I'll enjoy the books. But that kind of doesn't matter. Often, I find myself reading things that I don't enjoy. I read them because of the value. And I wonder if that makes me a little bit crazy. There's always that twinge in the back of my head that wonders what makes it valuable if it's not enjoyable (think Shakespeare). And that's coming from an English teacher.
While we're talking about Vonnegut, I'd like to point out that he died as a result of a fall at his home a few weeks ago. I didn't know he fell a few weeks ago. How did I miss that memo?!?!? It's not like I've been neglecting to put the cover sheet on my TPS reports and so there was some justification to just stop including me on the memos...
Anyway, Vonnegut's death obviously won't impact me, or American subculture, in any major way for a few years. Someone needs to replace him - which really only means periodically writing a book - as the iconoclastic satirist. I nominate Philip Roth. And maybe one day, if I can start sustaining plotlines, I'll throw my hat in the ring too.