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Book Review of Hocus Pocus

Hocus Pocus
Hocus Pocus
Author: Kurt Vonnegut
Genre: Literature & Fiction
Book Type: Paperback
terez93 avatar reviewed on + 323 more book reviews


This capable, if not thoroughly inspiring KV novel isn't too many people's favorite, probably because it is one of the more depressing ones. It borders on satire, but is sufficiently grounded in reality as to be unsettling, unlike many of his other novels, which are comprised of delightful farce. One of the worst fates in the world is to be a character in a KV novel, because the whole cast is comprised of those people whom nothing good will happen to, no matter their actions or intentions. Futility and inevitable disappointment are usually overarching themes, as here: "I am not writing this book for people below the age of 18 but I see no harm in telling young people to prepare for failure rather than success, since failure is the main thing that is going to happen to them." This novel in general, in fact, speaks to real depression, his or the characters'. I'm not certain.

The multiplicity of common themes are there, but they're not as artfully presented as many of the other novels. This one is more narrative-oriented than the typical fractured style readers have generally come to expect. War and family discord are present, as is futility, as he notes: "the two prime movers in the universe are Time and Luck" His characters are often just drifting through time and space. They have aspirations, to some degree, but they are usually foiled by circumstance. that can be comedic and tragic at the same time. Rarely does one of his main characters have a good relationship with his children, or the parents, and this novel is no exception. This common literary trope takes on a life of its own in KV's novels, however. There is something clearly very deep-seated there.

Although it's less than inspired, this prototypical KV novel features the familiar hallmarks of his work, most significantly a creation of someone's mind that has to have some larger significance: playing bells with a keyboard, crystals at a science fair, parents killed under a falling roof, laughing like hell. I will forever wonder about these seemingly paltry details, about which Ammianus writes, and what they truly mean, from whence they came in the mind of this author of singular genius. Maybe that's the point. He loves daily life, in all its mundane magnificence, that much is clear. He excoriates the things that annoy him but celebrates the sublime of quotidian life.

That said, something I sorely missed: there's not too much to laugh at in this novel, which is one of the most endearing qualities in KV's work. There aren't nearly as many quotables here, either, so it's surprisingly uninspired compared to many of his others; dare I say, conventional, even? There's much more dry than overt wit in this one. The primary theme is the dichotomy of wealth, and, somewhat uniquely to his work, race, illustrated in the juxtaposition of the school for morons and the prison. The protagonist, a philandering anti-hero with a psychotic wife and mother-in-law, who is (as usual) estranged from his children, is undone by a rich but moronic student whose father, a former student himself who has seemingly produced a mindless drone like himself gets him fired, and he has to go teach on the other side of the proverbial tracks, at the prison, where his fortune changes from bad to worse. KV rails against the offense of faux intellect: Shakespeare in the mouths of morons, who get their quotations from Bartlett's Familiar Quotations instead of the original text.

The end kind of fell apart for me, similar to Jailbird, but overall, it's definitely a worthwhile read, and still left me hungry for the next Vonnegut novel, which somehow constitute a celebration of life through the miseries of their characters.

"I would have given anything to die in a war that meaningful."

His insane wife and mother-in-law, one one occasion, upon his returning home "had torn the bedsheets into strips. I had laundered the sheets that morning, and was going to put them on our beds that night. What did they care? They had constructed what they said was a spider web. At least it wasn't a hydrogen bomb."