Zusatztext [Kurt Vonnegut's] best book . . . He dares not only ask the ultimate question about the meaning of life! but to answer it. Esquire Reading Vonnegut is addictive! Commonweal Informationen zum Autor Kurt Vonnegut Klappentext "[Kurt Vonnegut's] best book . . . He dares not only ask the ultimate question about the meaning of life, but to answer it."-Esquire Nominated as one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read The Sirens of Titan is an outrageous romp through space, time, and morality. The richest, most depraved man on Earth, Malachi Constant, is offered a chance to take a space journey to distant worlds with a beautiful woman at his side. Of course there' s a catch to the invitation-and a prophetic vision about the purpose of human life that only Vonnegut has the courage to tell. "Reading Vonnegut is addictive!"-CommonwealBetween Timid and Timbuktu "I guess somebody up there likes me."Malachi Constant Everyone now knows how to find the meaning of life within himself. But mankind wasn't always so lucky. Less than a century ago men and women did not have easy access to the puzzle boxes within them. They could not name even one of the fifty-three portals to the soul. Gimcrack religions were big business. Mankind, ignorant of the truths that lie within every human being, looked outwardpushed ever outward. What mankind hoped to learn in its outward push was who was actually in charge of all creation, and what all creation was all about. Mankind flung its advance agents ever outward, ever outward. Eventually it flung them out into space, into the colorless, tasteless, weightless sea of outwardness without end. It flung them like stones. These unhappy agents found what had already been found in abundance on Eartha nightmare of meaninglessness without end. The bounties of space, of infinite outwardness, were three: empty heroics, low comedy, and pointless death. Outwardness lost, at last, its imagined attractions. Only inwardness remained to be explored. Only the human soul remained terra incognita. This was the beginning of goodness and wisdom. What were people like in olden times, with their souls as yet unexplored? The following is a true story from the Nightmare Ages, falling roughly, give or take a few years, between the Second World War and the Third Great Depression. There was a crowd. The crowd had gathered because there was to be a materialization. A man and his dog were going to materialize, were going to appear out of thin airwispily at first, becoming, finally, as substantial as any man and dog alive. The crowd wasn't going to get to see the materialization. The materialization was strictly a private affair on private property, and the crowd was empthatically not invited to feast its eyes. The materialization was going to take place, like a modern, civilized hanging, within high, blank, guarded walls. And the crowd outside the walls was very much like a crowd outside the walls at a hanging. The crowd knew it wasn't going to see anything, yet its members found pleasure in being near, in staring at the blank walls and imagining what was happening inside. The mysteries of the materialization, like the mysteries of a hanging, were enhanced by the wall; were made pornographic by the magic lantern slides of morbid imaginationsmagic lantern slides projected by the crowd on the blank stone walls. The town was Newport, Rhode Island, U.S.A., Earth, Solar System, Milky Way. The walls were those of the Rumfoord estate. Ten minutes before the materialization was to take place, agents of the police spread the rumor that the materialization had happened prematurely, had happened outside the walls, and that the man a...

ldquo;[Kurt Vonnegut’s] best book . . . He dares not only ask the ultimate question about the meaning of life, but to answer it.”—***Esquire
*
“Reading Vonnegut is addictive!”—*Commonweal**

• Autorentext

  Kurt Vonnegut

  Klappentext

  "[Kurt Vonnegut's] best book . . . He dares not only ask the ultimate question about the meaning of life, but to answer it."-Esquire

  Nominated as one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read

  The Sirens of Titan is an outrageous romp through space, time, and morality. The richest, most depraved man on Earth, Malachi Constant, is offered a chance to take a space journey to distant worlds with a beautiful woman at his side. Of course there' s a catch to the invitation-and a prophetic vision about the purpose of human life that only Vonnegut has the courage to tell.

  "Reading Vonnegut is addictive!"-Commonweal

  Leseprobe
  Between Timid and Timbuktu

  "I guess somebody up there likes me."—Malachi Constant

  Everyone now knows how to find the meaning of life within himself.

  But mankind wasn't always so lucky. Less than a century ago men and women did not have easy access to the puzzle boxes within them.

  They could not name even one of the fifty-three portals to the soul.

  Gimcrack religions were big business.

  Mankind, ignorant of the truths that lie within every human being, looked outward–pushed ever outward. What mankind hoped to learn in its outward push was who was actually in charge of all creation, and what all creation was all about.

  Mankind flung its advance agents ever outward, ever outward. Eventually it flung them out into space, into the colorless, tasteless, weightless sea of outwardness without end.

  It flung them like stones.

  These unhappy agents found what had already been found in abundance on Earth—a nightmare of meaninglessness without end. The bounties of space, of infinite outwardness, were three: empty heroics, low comedy, and pointless death.

  Outwardness lost, at last, its imagined attractions.

  Only inwardness remained to be explored.

  Only the human soul remained terra incognita.

  This was the beginning of goodness and wisdom.

  What were people like in olden times, with their souls as yet unexplored?

  The following is a true story from the Nightmare Ages, falling roughly, give or take a few years, between the Second World War and the Third Great Depression.

  There was a crowd.

  The crowd had gathered because there was to be a materialization. A man and his dog were going to materialize, were going to appear out of thin air—wispily at first, becoming, finally, as substantial as any man and dog alive.

  The crowd wasn't going to get to see the materialization. The materialization was strictly a private affair on private property, and the crowd was empthatically not invited to feast its eyes.

  The materialization was going to take place, like a modern, civilized hanging, within high, blank, guarded walls. And the crowd outside the walls was very much like a crowd outside the walls at a hanging.

  The crowd knew it wasn't going to see anything, yet its members found pleasure in being near, in staring at the blank walls and imagining what was happening inside. The mysteries of the materialization, like the mysteries of a hanging, were enhanced by the wall; were made pornographic by the magic lantern slides of morbid imaginations—magic lantern slides projected by the crowd on the blank stone walls.

  The town was Newport, Rhode Island, U.S.A., Earth, Solar System, Milky Way. The walls were those of the Rumfoord estate.

  Ten minutes before the materialization was to take place, agents of the police spread the rumor that the materialization had happened prematurely, had happened outside the walls, and that the man and his dog could be seen plain as day two blocks away. The crowd galloped away to see the miracle at the intersection.

  The crowd was crazy about miracles.

  At the tail end of the crowd was a woman who weighed three hundred pounds. She had a goiter, a caramel apple, and a gray little six-year-old gi…