Kurt Vonnegut is up in heaven now.
The first time I read Kurt Vonnegut I was thirteen, the novel was Timequake. From there, I worked my way back to Player Piano. There is no doubt Slaughterhouse-Five is a classic, deserving of all praise received, but I also find myself going back and rereading section of less widely read works, such as Blue Beard, Galapagos, and Mother Night. My paperback copy of Welcome to the Monkey House shows all sign of a well-worn, and well-loved, book.
Kurt Vonnegut was an old man, I'm not surprised by his death. In fact, I am not especially saddened either; it is senseless to mourn the immortal. Many of his works were written long before I was even born. I hope that these works will be on my shelves the day I die.