Finished this book last week sometime. I'm working on three Vonnegut books in three weeks. So far so good. Here's what it says on the back of the book :
"Slapstick presents an apocalyptic vision seen through the eyes of the current King of Manhattan (and last President of the United States), a wickedly irreverent look at the all-too-possible results of today's follies. But even the end of life-as-we-know-it is transformed by Vonnegut's pen into hilarious farce (a final slapstick that may be the Almighty's joke on us all.)"
Here's what I think. Every Vonnegut book deals with some sort of apocalypse. Having said that, what sets this book apart is that I feel it's about the human condition. Here's a story about geniuses, two twins content in their world where everything is sheltered yet they are content. It isn't until they are separated, because the rules set up by society, that they fail to function. Each ones fate is ultimately determined by what doctors, and professionals decide for them. However, somewhere in there, it's also a story about beating the odds. The main character, who shouldn't have lived past his teenage years, live to be like 100 years old. I highly recommend this book. I don't know why I didn't read it sooner.
Oh and here's the Amazon review. I know I'm getting lazy but it's late.
Amazon.comDr. Wilbur Daffodil-11 Swain, centenarian, the last President of the United States, King of Manhattan, and one-half (along with his sister, Eliza) of the most powerful intelligence since Einstein, is penning his autobiography. He occupies the first floor of a ruined Empire State Building and lives like a royal scavenger with his illiterate granddaughter and her beau. Buffeted by fluctuating gravity, the U.S. has been scourged by not one, but two lethal diseases: the Green Death and the Albanian Flu. Consequently, the country has fallen into civil war. (Super-intelligent, miniaturized Chinese watch the West self-destruct from the sidelines.) Swain stayed at the White House until there were no citizens left to govern, then moved to deserted New York City, where he writes a thoughtful missive before death.
In Slapstick, Vonnegut muses on war, man's hubris, and the awful, crippling loneliness humans are freighted with--but, miraculously, the book still manages to delight and amuse. Absurd, knowing, never depressing, Slapstick kindles hope--for the possibility of wisdom, perhaps; for human resiliency, surely.
It's best to end with a quote from the prologue wherein the author discourses on The Meaning of It All, or at least This Book: "Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go off looking for it, and I think it can often be poisonous. I wish that people who are conventionally supposed to love each other would say to each other, when they fight, 'Please--a little less love, and a little more common decency.'" Amen.