Picked up Slaughterhouse Five yesterday and devoured it. Today, can't get Kurt Vonnegut's narrative voice out of my head. Humor and heartache and fabulous fantastical time-traveling reed of a character in Billy Pilgrim.
I love this line, among others: "And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human.
She was turned into a pillar of salt. So it goes."
In a book where plundering a teapot gets you shot by a firing squad, here's what I'm stealing: the act of restraint. Not ramming something down a reader's throat, but placing it on the tongue. Letting it dissolve in time.
