The End, Sort Of (SF 10)

Like chapter one, this one begins with a narration by Vonnegut. He lists people who have died who I think are important to him, but with that same sort of distant air of death-just-happens. He also goes on to show how different alien points of view must be from ours, and how they wouldn't consider the things we think essential important. They would value Darwin over Jesus, and be curious about golf. (Personally I'd ask if volleyball is meant to be punishment, but that's just me). Vonnegut goes on to say that living eternally doesn't quite appeal to him, but that he understantds the appeal and the happiness that can be found in good moments. Later, the narrative shifts back to Billy, who has to clear the rubble of Dresden with a Maori, which just adds to the feeling of being somewhere as strange and alien as the moon. They soon end up digging up corpses which is a mundane industry to them. The recurring theme of a mustard gas and roses scent is brought up again to say that this is what the bodies smelled of (214). The bodies are so many that they just burn them where they are found, and Edgar Derby's end is told quickly, the way it has been for all the book, he steals a teapot and gets killed for it. No need to get into details, it's just death, and it happens. Spring arrives, the Germans leave, the War ends and Billy goes outside to fidn the wagon he was in during chapter nine, and hears the birds. The end feels like a non-end, but there's really no way to end this book, especially given the way it just all over time. Actually, this is the best end, because, like the Tralfamadorians say, nothing really ends anyway.