Kurt Vonnegut has died at the age of 84. There are notices here and here.
From the opening page of Vonnegut's The Sirens of Titan:
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's one of the books that got me reading SF in the days when I used to. It's the book that has God the Utterly Indifferent, a characteristically Vonnegutian idea. It also has this piece of wisdom from Winston Niles Rumfoord:It flung them like stones.
These unhappy agents found what had already been found in abundance on Earth - a nightmare of meaninglessness without end.
Sometimes I think it is a great mistake to have matter that can think and feel. It complains so. By the same token, though, I suppose that boulders and mountains and moons could be accused of being a little too phlegmatic.Not indifference, but all honour to a writer who gave much pleasure to his readers. (See also this: 'Listen: We are here on Earth to fart around. Don't let anybody tell you any different.' And: Playing chess with Kurt Vonnegut.)
