ramble on

In order for a comparison to take place between a book and a movie, it necessary to understand the roles of each. In the same way that one cannot compare a house and a memory without first understanding the tangibility of each, books and movies deserve that respect (forgive my inadequate simile).

Movies show us stories. While provoking at times, they are what they are. The characters are in front of us, the plot is as follows, and the ending is shown by crediting everyone who was part of creating the visual and auditory events previous. Allusions can be made but the mental image is already partially formed. It is difficult for movies show, in depth, the inner struggles and thought processes of characters. A good movie will either portray these things in detail or leave them out entirely leaving the viewer to his/her own devices.

Books give us stories. A good book should promote thought and insight into an infinite chain of knowledge with levels that reach as far as the mind's eye can see. A good book will take you on a journey that doesn't end when the book does. Each reader has a completely different experience that no other person will ever fully comprehend. It is personal. A good book should also leave you desiring more knowledge. Thoughts about meaningless information from the story should pop into your head while you're trying to accomplish some other necessity of life. It should make you question and wonder. It should lead you to something new, something you've never thought of before. It should interest you in things that you never knew you were interested in. It should leave you needing more. The creation of the story you experience can be credited to only you and, in part, the author.

I don't think that Slaughterhouse-Five is a great book. It's a decent book. It certainly did lead me to relatively unexplored realms of thought and, as always, war happenings fascinate my unworldly, pacifistic mind. I feel inclined to believe that the author's choice for point of view was entirely used as a method of detachment. I believe that Vonnegut's preface (if i can call it that)was to convey the difficulty of re-experiencing Dresden without actually having to do so. To me, the appeal of the book lies in the management of the telling of the attack on Dresden (if that makes any sense). Perhaps it's just my inner philosophical anthropologist speaking. Maybe it's my way of making a relatively dull story mean something. The movie, on the other hand, was atrocious (though maybe a little amusing at times). The movie made the events of the story visible to the audience at the expense of leaving out every bit of substance that the book had to offer.

Well, I should probably be kicked off the site for insane rambling, but if anyone gets any tiny little fleck of anything from my rambling then I've done my job. However, it just is what it is, what it has always been and what it will always be.