Breakfast of Champions is a book. It looks like this.
I guess it’s needless to introduce Vonnegut, the old fart is a household name in America… Actually, like any great author, his name resides in the shadows of contemporary artists like OJ The Juice Man, Maroon 5, and Lil Wayne…
Anyway, Breakfast of Champions is a tale where Kurt Vonnegut simply goes bananas. He introduces all of his most beloved protagonists and even himself, into one magnificently wielded book that defies the basic fundamentals of story telling: Structure.
He even decides to use drawings, really childish drawings, to go along with the story. Half of them are comical, half of them are insightful, half of them are unnecessary, while half of them are moving. Yeah, his book is composed of more than four halves, all of them being purely Vonnegut.
The plot: Kilgore Trout is an aging writer who has been eating the grim and dirt day to day. Without any recognition for his sci-fi novels, life seems to move like a glacier, awaiting for the day he dies. Until, he finds to his horror that Midwest car dealer takes his fiction as truth. The result is a murderously funny satire of war, sex, racism, success, politics, and pollution in America and reminds us how to see the truth.
It lies as one of the books that actually had me laughing out loud and covering my hand over the pages that I did not read anymore: allowing me to digest the unknown more fruitfully. To be honest, I had never done that with a book, ever! Which to me, supports my claim that you have to read it. Have to. No matter who, or what you are.
It’s no wonder why Kurt Vonnegut touches the hearts and sexual organs of the world. He simply, knows how to.
Oh, Kurt told me to show you this
This is his poop hole.