(no subject)
When I was but a wee girl of 16, I was a junior in high school. My best friend had moved away, I was a lonely band nerd who didn’t have a section to belong to due to my hopping around of clarinet specialties, and I fancied myself a writer. I was volunteered for the SAT team by my upper-percentile PSAT scores, and was stoked to find out that Orlopp was heading it up, as well as teaching a few proper classes, all of which I signed up for. One of these classes was Sci-Fi Writing.
In Sci-Fi Writing, I was introduced to a great man through a great novel. The novel was Cat’s Cradle. The man: Kurt Vonnegut. Over the years since, I have read nearly every one of Vonnegut’s 19 novels, and loved most of them. Slaughterhouse-Five, Breakfast of Champions, Player Piano, the highly amusing God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian, even the convoluted Timequake.
Kurt Vonnegut died last nite in NYC at the age of 84.
So it goes.
In Sci-Fi Writing, I was introduced to a great man through a great novel. The novel was Cat’s Cradle. The man: Kurt Vonnegut. Over the years since, I have read nearly every one of Vonnegut’s 19 novels, and loved most of them. Slaughterhouse-Five, Breakfast of Champions, Player Piano, the highly amusing God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian, even the convoluted Timequake.
Kurt Vonnegut died last nite in NYC at the age of 84.
So it goes.