So it goes.

Finished reading Slaughterhouse Five.

Was not impressed.

Actually, no, I take that back. I was impressed - it just wasn't the mind blowing experience I was expecting. That's the problem with reading "beloved classics" and what not. I thought this was great for what it was and when it was written. Maybe it's because I feel like I've read approximations of this so it's not new. All right, all right, so this was more than just pretty damn decent. With complete sparsity of language, while never saying so, while using motifs so much they almost died, while being meta and non-meta all at the same time, the man managed to come up with a tiny book that condemned the war loudly, and most importantly, our attitude towards war. And I was totally into it, too, and loved every minute of it.

So there.