He died. So it goes. She died. So it goes. They died. So it goes. For an anti-war book, the ‘so-it-goes’ mentality toward death is confusing yet comforting all in one. This unique approach to a normally draining topic keeps readers intrigued and leaves them questioning war, life, and death in a way they had never before. Slaughterhouse-Five is tastefully balanced—a short read but with heavy concepts, making one want to re-read it over and over again, so as to not miss a single detail. 

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut follows the nonlinear life of an optometrist and World War II veteran Billy Pilgrim. Billy finds himself ‘jumping’ from moment to moment in time. The book is composed of scenes in Billy’s life; each is brief, asks huge subliminal questions, and usually involves a death. So it goes. While reading, you feel like someone trying to help find lost keys—poorly retracing steps, switching from one random location to another, and unsuccessfully searching for an answer. There is no plot arc, no clear climax, no solution. After all, “there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre” (24). 

Throughout the novel, Vonnegut does not limit himself to typical novel rules. The first pages of the book are in Vonnegut’s own voice. But instead of making them a preface, they are included as Chapter One. As a veteran and P.O.W. survivor in Dresden himself, Billy and Vonnegut live rather parallel lives. Billy is not a hero, even telling his friend Weary, “You guys go on without me”. Through this brutally honest somewhat auto-biography, we all connect with Billy/Vonnegut. Billy, who lives one of the most average lives imaginable apart from experiencing the bloody bombing of Dresden, is just like the reader. As a result, the message is more easily permeated. 

While all this might seem confusing, it is a brilliantly crafted book nonetheless. Each scene has a purpose. But you might have to dig for it. And after digging a graveyard’s worth, I have come to the conclusion that Slaughterhouse-Five’s success is in its portrayal of the blunt horrors of war. Vonnegut uses crude humor and numbs everything down to descriptions: “They had been discovered and shot from behind. Now they were dying in the snow, feeling nothing, turning the snow to the color of raspberry sherbet” (69). Humor takes on an opposite role compared to how it normally functions. The blunt jokes juxtaposed with gory descriptions leave readers dumbfounded. Without the romanticization of war, the message is more powerful than any history class I have ever taken: There are no heroes. 

If you are searching for a fun, light-hearted story, this novel will not fit those needs. Slaughterhouse-Five makes you feel slightly unsettled, questioning previously established ideas. It is not a book I would place in the “can’t-put-down” category, but certainly in the “must-read”. An open mind is a requirement. It is unlike any other book I have ever read, and for that reason, it is unforgettable. I certainly recommend this novel if you search for something “greater” in the books you read.