本书由北京第二外国语学院博士学术文库资助。

Toward Ecological Humanism:Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt ’s Fiction 走走向生态人文主义向生态人文主义 ———解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象—解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

李素杰 著

中中国人民大学出版社国人民大学出版社 ·北北京京· 图书在版编目（CIP）数据

走向生态人文主义：解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象：英文/李素杰著. —北京：中国 人民大学出版社，2013.9 ISBN 978-7-300-18064-9

Ⅰ.① 走…Ⅱ. ①李…Ⅲ. ①冯内古特，K.―小说研究―英文Ⅳ. ①I712.074

中国版本图书馆 CIP 数据核字（2013）第 213113 号

新思路大学英语 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象 Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in ’s Fiction 李素杰 著 Zouxiang Shengtai Renwen Zhuyi——Jiema Fengneigute Xiaoshuo Zhong de Dongwu Yixiang

出版发行 中国人民大学出版社 社 址 北京中关村大街 31 号 邮政编码 100080 电 话 010-62511242（总编室） 010-62511398（质管部） 010-82501766（邮购部） 010-62514148（门市部） 010-62515195（发行公司） 010-62515275（盗版举报） 网 址 http://www.crup.com.cn http://www.ttrnet.com（人大教研网） 经 销 新华书店 印 刷 北京市易丰印刷有限责任公司 规 格 148 mm×210 mm 32 开本 版 次 2013 年 9 月第 1 版 印 张 9.5 印 次 2013 年 9 月第 1 次印刷 字 数 264 000 定 价 30.00 元

版权所有 侵权必究 印装差错 负责调换 序（一）

库尔特 · 冯内古特是当代美国最重要、最具代表性的后现代主义 小说家之一，也是曾经就读于康奈尔大学的文坛怪杰之一。他的作品 经常借科幻小说的叙述模式讲述人类的未来或者遥远的外星球的故 事，读来荒诞离奇、滑稽搞怪，致使很多人误以为他只是一个卖点高 但无深意的流行小说家。实际上，冯内古特骨子里是一个传统的人， 固执地坚守着家庭、爱情、正义、公平等价值观念，真诚地倡导人类 社会的真、善、美。只是后工业时代的美国社会现实令他感到失望， 使他对人性也充满讥讽与挖苦。而且，他敏锐地发现传统的艺术手段 已经无法打动日益冷漠的读者，必须采取“非正常”的叙述手段才能 形成足够的刺激，唤醒读者对现实的清醒认识。 李素杰的专著《走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动 物意象》正是对冯内古特的这一独特的艺术特色和他的人道主义思想 所做的深入研究。她指出，在冯内古特嬉笑怒骂的小丑面具背后，其 实掩盖着一颗真诚、正直、深怀责任感的心，在他荒诞不经的故事里 蕴藏着对美国当代社会的关切和对人类未来的忧虑。更为重要的是， 李素杰选取了一个迄今为止无论在国内还是国外的冯内古特研究中都 尚无人问津的全新视角——动物意象。运用动物研究这一新兴理论， 通过大量认真仔细的文本研读和细致深入的分析，她向我们展示了一 个鲜为人知的冯内古特小说中的动物世界。这些动物形象，并非传统 意义上的为了增添语言表现力和丰富性所采用的修辞手段，而是小说 家始终如一的强烈的人道主义关怀的有机组成部分，是具有鲜活生命 力的重要角色。小说中关于各种动物在人类社会中的种种遭遇的描写 对于冯内古特有效地表征其人性主题发挥了非常重要的作用。以此为 切入点，李素杰大胆地提出了自己的观点：冯内古特的人文主义具有 Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction ii 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

不同于传统人文主义的特质，是一种更加深刻、更具包容性、能更好 地引导人类走出后工业时代的生存困境、克服人类中心主义、走向人 与自然和谐共生的人文主义，即生态人文主义。 李素杰的这一发现，为解决评论界长期以来关于冯内古特所表 现出来的对人类既恨且爱的矛盾态度的理解困境提供了一种可能的出 路，并且提出了一个极具推广意义的命题，即人文主义的生态转向。 近半个多世纪以来，传统人文主义所蕴含的人类中心主义已经越来越 充分地暴露出来，因其导致的人与自然的对抗不仅造成了人类生存环 境的急剧恶化，而且也严重地危害了自然界无数生命的生存安全，使 地球这个美丽的星球面临严峻的生态危机。如果人类再不悬崖勒马， 改变对自身的生态定位，不仅人类的前途堪忧，整个地球生态系统的 未来也会受到影响。李素杰结合自己对生态批评、动物研究以及人文 主义的当代演变的研究，总结出了生态人文主义的基本概念，指出了 人文主义的生态转向的必然性与紧迫性。而且，她通过详实的论据和 令人信服的论证，阐明了冯内古特对重塑人类作为生态共同体中的普 通公民身份的倡导，这在当下具有非常重要的理论价值和现实意义。 李素杰的这部专著是在她的博士论文的基础上拓展而成的。当初 她决定这个选题时我心里着实为她捏着一把汗。首先，尽管冯内古特 的有些作品有时看似轻松诙谐，其实他的大部分作品晦涩艰深，在文 学评论界他是难读、难懂、也难写的后现代主义作家之一，是一块不 好啃、难消化的硬骨头。要真正读懂冯内古特实属不易，这也是国内 研究他的人不是很多的原因之一。另外，动物研究是一个刚刚起步的 研究领域，在国外尚处于理论建构时期，国内关于这方面的研究更是 凤毛麟角。能否成功、合理地运用动物研究理论实现对冯内古特的新 解读是件很冒险的事。事实也证实了我的担忧。素杰的论文撰写过程 非常艰辛，有效的参考资料的匮乏，可资借鉴的研究范式的缺位，冯 内古特古怪荒诞的表达方式，以及动物意象在他小说中若隐若现的边 缘地位，所有这些都是她不止一次对我诉说的困难，甚至产生过对于 这一研究课题是否可行的怀疑和因担心无法驾驭而放弃这一选题的念 头。但是，令我欣喜的是，她没有被这些困难所吓倒，而是顽强地坚 序（一） iii

持下来，以极大的毅力，凭借扎实的基本功和深厚的学养积累，终于 完成了博士论文的撰写。所有论文评阅专家和答辩委员会委员都一致 认为，她的这篇论文选题大胆新颖，具有突出的创新性，对于冯内古 特研究和动物研究都有填补空白的作用。而且，论文论点正确、思路 清晰、逻辑严谨、文笔清新自然、语言准确顺畅、写作规范，大家一 致认为这是一篇高水平的博士论文。 作为素杰的导师，我很为她的成绩感到骄傲，也深知这成绩得来 不易。身兼母亲、女儿、妻子、教师、学生等多重身份，她在读博期 间承受了巨大的压力，但是她最终完成了学业，并且取得了出色的成 绩。现在，经过认真修改、拓展，她的专著也即将出版，实在是一件 可喜可贺之事。我相信，历经了博士求学过程的磨练，经历了这样一 篇难度极大的论文的撰写，未来的她一定会更加成熟，更加稳健。在 冯内古特研究和动物研究以及生态批评研究等方面，相信她一定会取 得更加令人欣喜的成绩。 应素杰之邀欣然为其即将付梓的专著命笔，是为序。

北京外国语大学 郭棲庆 2013年7月于北京 序（二）

欣闻李素杰的专著《走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中 的动物意象》即将出版，我很高兴为她作序。 早在两年多前李素杰就和我谈起过她的论文选题，寻求我的建 议。我当时认为，从动物意象入手研究冯内古特的小说视角非常新 颖，但基于我对冯内古特的了解，动物意象并非他小说中的主角，单 从这一角度出发恐怕难以支撑起一部十万字的博士论文。 没有想到，两年以后，李素杰把一本厚厚的博士论文交到了我的 手上，请我审阅并参加她的论文答辩。我被她论文里呈现出的冯内古 特小说中的动物世界惊呆了。我曾经以冯内古特为题撰写我自己的博 士论文，之后也发表过多篇学术文章，但是，直到我读到李素杰的博 士论文，我才意识到冯内古特的世界里游走着如此众多的动物精灵， 而且它们表达了作者如此深刻的人文主义思想。我不仅为她成功地完 成学位论文而高兴，而且自觉受益匪浅。现在，李素杰在博士论文基 础上修改而成的专著即将问世，我很想在这里谈一谈我对她的研究的 理解和评价。 在我看来，专著《走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的 动物意象》有两个重要创新点。第一、就是前文提到的动物意象的研 究视角。虽然关于文学作品中的动物意象的讨论久已有之，但是以往 的研究基本上都是把动物作为一种修辞手段，解读它们关于人类世界 的象征含义或隐喻意义，很少有人关注动物自身的生存状况。李素杰 的研究则不同。她基于自己对生态批评的前期积累，并主要结合新兴 领域——动物研究的理论视角和研究方法，把动物视为真实的、有血 有肉、有感受苦痛能力的生命体，细致检视了冯内古特小说中关于人 与动物关系的描述，特别是人类的食肉习惯、人对宠物的依赖和虐待 Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction vi 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

以及人类社会普遍存在的物种歧视等方面，从而深刻揭示了人类在日 常生活中和文化再现中对待动物的方式所蕴含的伦理、文化和政治意 义。这不仅仅提出了冯内古特研究的一个全新视角，而且在当下生态 危机严重，人与自然，特别是人与动物的关系不断紧张的背景下具有 很重要的现实意义。 第二、该专著有力地论证、建构了冯内古特作品所表现的生态人 文主义思想。虽然从冯内古特作品中发现、整理出众多的动物意象并 发掘出它们的意义已属不易，但是李素杰并没有停留在简单的文本细 节堆砌和单纯的动物意象的解读，也没有像很多动物权利保护主义者 那样仅仅看到动物的利益，而是把对动物的关怀与对人的关注有机地 结合到一起，提出对冯内古特人文主义的新观点，即生态人文主义。 该专著首先清晰地阐释了生态人文主义的概念，认为生态人文主 义既有对传统人文主义中自鸣得意的人类优越论，特别是对理性的崇 拜和科学主义至上思想的批判，同时也主张发扬传统人文主义中的进 步理念，例如解放、平等、正义等，并把这些理念拓展到非人类的动 物世界，实现所有生命体的完全解放；生态人文主义还提倡重新定义 人类在宇宙以及生态共同体中的身份，以体现从征服到关爱的转变。 以此为立论依据，专著将生态人文主义理论的探讨与冯内古特小说文 本的分析紧密结合，以科学的研究方法论证了如下观点：冯内古特通 过对人类食肉行为的描写暴露人性中非人性的一面；通过表现人类从 宠物身上寻找人际亲密关系的替代来表现后工业时代人类所忍受的孤 独、冷漠和主体安全感的缺失；通过将人“动物化”的描写来批判物 种歧视主义，强调人作为生物共同体成员的意识；通过描写人回归动 物王国，主张人与自然的和谐统一，创造人在大自然中与其他成员共 同享受的和平、满足、和谐共存的生活。这些观点和结论具有重大的 学术价值，有很大的创新性。 据我所知，李素杰的这部专著是国内第四部研究冯内古特的专 著，但它是第一部从动物的角度研究冯内古特的专著，同时也是国内 目前为数不多的以动物研究为理论依据的文学批评专著。因此，毫不 夸张地说，该作具有重大的理论价值、学术价值和重要的现实意义， 序（二） vii

起到了填补空白的作用。 此外，李素杰的语言功底非常深厚，文笔流畅自然，表述准确细 腻优美，是近几年来读到的英语写作水平较高的博士论文之一。 当然，该研究中还有一些不太成熟的地方，有些表述过于绝对， 对文本的解读也有值得商榷的地方。不过，我仍然认为这是一部值得 推荐的著作。而且我相信，假以时日，李素杰会有更成熟、更全面、 更深入的研究成果问世。

陈世丹 2013年7月于中国人民大学 TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction …………………………………………………… 1 Ⅰ. Vonnegut in the Critical World: Controversy and Concurrence ……………………………………4 Ⅱ. Animal Studies and Ecological Humanism ………… 16 Ⅲ. Animal Representation in Vonnegut’s Fiction ……… 48 Ⅳ. Structure of the Book ……………………………… 57

Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context …… 62 Ⅰ. American Modern Environmental Movement ……… 63 Ⅱ. An Ecological View of Vonnegut: Life and Infl uences …………………………………………… 74

Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity …… 96 Ⅰ. Meat-eating: A Moral Issue ………………………… 98 Ⅱ. For the Sake of “Doodley-squat”: Cruelty Behind the Hamburger in ……… 101 Ⅲ. For the Pleasure of the Palate: Avarice and Atrocity in …………………………………… 110 Ⅳ. When Humans Are Hungry: Barbarity in Galapagos ……………………………………… 123 Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 2 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness ……………………………142 Ⅰ. : Hatred Between Wife and Husband ……………………………………… 147 Ⅱ. Breakfast of Champions: Estrangement of Father and Son …………………………………… 160 Ⅲ. : Separation of Brother and Sister ……… 170

Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” …………………… 187 Ⅰ. -Five: A Story of Blurred Boundaries …… 188 Ⅱ. Survivors in the Slaughterhouse ………………… 201 Ⅲ. The Man in the Zoo ……………………………… 209

Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom— in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity …………… 224 Ⅰ. The Sirens of Titan: Flying with the Bluebirds …… 228 Ⅱ. Galapagos: Farewell, Big Brain …………………… 242

Conclusion ·································································································258

Works Cited ……………………………………………… 267 Abbreviations ……………………………………………… 285 Acknowledgments ………………………………………… 286

Introduction

Kurt Vonnegut (1922—2007) was one of the most important post- WWⅡ American writers and an active public spokesman. In his literary career of fi fty-seven years, he published fourteen novels, four plays, four short-story collections (two published posthumously in 2010 and 2011), six collections of essays, speeches, and interviews, and a large body of uncollected short fi ction and nonfi ction. A humorist in the strain of Mark Twain, Vonnegut made witty and incisive criticism about modern warfare, the reign of scientism, Eurocentrism, environmental destruction, and the degeneration of humanity as a whole. His novels and short stories were adapted to the screen as well as the stage. Many were -standing New York Times bestsellers. They were taught in college courses and enjoyed tremendous popularity with the young people. For great lengths of his life, Vonnegut was vice president of the P.E.N American Center (since 1972), vice president of the National Institute of Arts and Letters (now the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters) (since 1973), and honorary president of the American Humanist Association (since 1992). For his active engagement in public affairs, sharp critique of American culture and politics, and his unconventional innovation of artistic expression, Vonnegut had been widely acclaimed as one of the greatest American writers, an outspoken social critic, and an immensely influential cultural guru. Even death did not put him into oblivion. New studies on him continue Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 2 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

to appear after his death. Harold Bloom’s 2009 edition of Kurt Vonnegut in his “Modern Critical Views”, Peter Freese’s monologue The Clown of Armageddon: The Novels of Kurt Vonnegut (2009), Jerome Klinkowitz’s Kurt Vonnegut’s America (2009), and Gilbert McInnis’ Evolutionary Mythology in the Writings of Kurt Vonnegut (2010) are all examples of sustained enthusiasm in Vonnegut. In 2011 and 2012, the Library of America released two volumes of Kurt Vonnegut’s works, Kurt Vonnegut: Novels and Stories 1963—1973 and Kurt Vonnegut: Novels and Stories 1950—1962. A third volume is to follow. It is an important sign of offi cial recognition of Vonnegut as “a member of the pantheon of the greatest American writers”. In 2011, the fi rst authorized biography was published, And So It Goes: Kurt Vonnegut: A Life (Charles J. Shields, Henry Holt and Company). Another biography, chronicled by Vonnegut’s novels, Unstuck in Time: A Journey Through Kurt Vonnegut’s Life and Novels (Gregory D. Sumner, Seven Stories Press), came out in 2012. These publications will predictably generate a new rise of interest in the late author. However, Vonnegut’s way to fame did not start smooth. It was indeed one of frustration and fl uctuation. For the fi rst twenty years after he quitted his job with the General Electric and started his writing career in 1949, Vonnegut stayed in virtual obscurity, neglected by most critics, in spite of the publication of fi ve novels, forty-six short stories, and two short-story collections and the growing popularity with the youth. His preference for the science fiction narrative mode made mainstream critics reluctant to regard him as a serious writer. It was not until 1969 when his sixth novel, Slaughterhouse-Five, came out that Vonnegut began to receive serious attention and wide acclaim. It actually started a decade of Vonnegut vogue among both the critical circle and the popular reading public. As Klinkowitz noted, Vonnegut became “the most talked about American novelist since Ernest Hemingway” (qtd. in Merrill 1990: 1). The 1970s vogue, however, did not secure Vonnegut’s establishment Introduction 3 as a major writer once and for all. In the following decade, he underwent a subsequent decline and was constantly attacked for being pessimistic and insincere. Even though the 1990s saw a revival and steady rise of his reputation, scholars and critics found much to disagree with among themselves. It took much controversy and contention for critics and scholars to arrive at a consensus that, beneath the mocking mask of a clown and despite his relentless satire and vehement criticism of humanity’s faults and follies, Kurt Vonnegut is an adamant humanist who persists in seeing goodness and beauty in humanity and tries to maintain hope against a world that is basically absurd and despairing. Again, even in this consensus, there is disagreement. Whereas many critics have noticed that Vonnegut’s humanism differs from the classic humanism, they find it hard to nail it down with an appropriate name. Terms such as “postmodern humanism” (David 2006), “postmodernist humanist” (Chen Shidan 2010), and “misanthropic humanism” (Tally 2009) are all such attempts. They each have achieved some understanding of the uniqueness of Vonnegut’s humanism, yet all seems inadequate to capture the complexity of the love-hate sentiments Vonnegut holds for humanity. This book is to participate in the engagement from a different perspective—the study of animal images. Animals abound in Vonnegut’s fi ctional world, but they have long been ignored. Through an investigation into their roles, decoding their enigmatic messages in relation to Vonnegut’s predominant humanistic concerns, the book is to reveal that the animal images, be they real or imaginary, realistic or metaphorical, are more than linguistic tropes used to increase forcefulness and richness of expression, but are integral parts of Vonnegut’s humanitarianism and significantly contribute to his themes of humanity. In effect, they point to a tendency in Vonnegut’s thinking that has long evaded critical attention—a tendency toward ecological humanism. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 4 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象 Ⅰ. Vonnegut in the Critical World: Controversy and Concurrence

In the preface to Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (1972), one of the earliest book- length studies on Vonnegut, Peter Reed states, “Professional literary people seem to be the most divided over Vonnegut” (20). This division of opinions has persisted for over fi ve decades. Various labels have been prescribed to Vonnegut: fabulist, fantasist, absurdist, humorist, black humorist, satirist, postmodernist, pessimist, moralist, and most frequently, science fi ctionist. As Leonard Mustazza observes, “[Vonnegut] has probably been subjected to more critical name-calling than any other contemporary American writer” (1990: 15). This remarkable diversity of evaluation shows, on the one hand, the complexity and ambivalence inherent in Vonnegut’s fi ction, inviting different and even contradictory interpretations, and on the other hand, the multifaceted talent and idiosyncrasy of Vonnegut as an artist who deliberately resists easy and singular labeling. Discussions on Vonnegut’s fiction can be roughly grouped into two categories: the formal and the thematic. As this book is primarily a thematic study of the author, the focus is mainly on the review of the latter group. Of all the controversies over Vonnegut’s themes and philosophy, the central questions are: Is he a mainstream writer or a popular science fi ction writer, and in what way is he either? Is he a humanitarian moralist or a deterministic nihilist? Or, is he a pessimist or an optimist? What morals is he teaching? Or, is he teaching any moral at all? The following review is organized in a manner to show different perspectives and approaches to these questions. In spite of Vonnegut’s persistent protest against being labeled as a science fi ctionist, the abundance of science fi ction elements in his novels, the extraterrestrial visits, the time travel, the fantastic projection of a future Introduction 5 world, all make the discussion of the science fi ction question unavoidable in the study of Vonnegut, either in regard to his art or his philosophy. In the critical world, science fiction has long been synonymous with “unrespectability”, regarded as popular “pulps”. It is largely due to this understanding that Vonnegut suffered critical neglect for twenty years. As he complained later, “I have been a soreheaded occupant of a fi le drawer labeled ‘science fi ction’ ever since, and I would like out, particularly since so many serious critics regularly mistake the drawer for a urinal” (WFG 1). Leslie Fiedler’s favorable comment in 1970 did not do him much favor in this respect. He praised Vonnegut’s art of science fi ction as a means of sentimentality, a leading feature of the emergent school he named “New Romanticism”, and saw him as “a transitional figure” from High Art to Pop culture, from Modernism to Post-Modernism. Nevertheless, Fiedler also portrayed him as a writer painfully struggling with his “two minds”: “On the one hand, [Vonnegut] has lived from the beginning by appealing to the great Pop audience on its own grounds, and yet something in him has always yearned to be a ‘serious writer’, to win the respect of those professors […]” (9). In this sense, the transitional role that science fi ction had won Vonnegut was not self-fulfi lling at all. Supportive scholars were generally reluctant to name Vonnegut a science-fiction writer. Donald L. Lawler preferred to consider Vonnegut as a “science-fi ction writer in sheep’s clothing”, meaning that the science fi ction technique was not ends, but means, an “enabling form” for Vonnegut to make criticism of profound questions such as the meaning of life and the direction of history. Science fi ction helped cloak such serious issues with irony and burlesque[1]. There were also critics who saw positive functions of the science fiction device. Willis E. McNelly defended Vonnegut as a science fi ction writer. He based his argument on Robert Scholes’ defi nition

[1] See the two articles by Lawler, “The Siren of Titan: Vonnegut’s Metaphysical Shaggy-Dog Story” and “Vonnegut in Academe (Ⅱ)”, in Vonnegut in America, eds. Jerome Klinkowitz & Donald L. Lawler (New York: Delacorte Press/Seymour Lawrence, 1977) 188, 84. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 6 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

of science fiction as “fiction that offers us a world clearly and radically discontinuous from the one we know, yet returns to confront that world in some cognitive way”. For him, science fi ction was utilized by Vonnegut as an “objective correlative” to distance readers from the present reality so as to reinvent ourselves and understand the world better[1]. Sallye Sheppeard brought together the notions of human values, science, , and myth in his study of the Vonnegut’s critique of the inhuman system of American society’s “technological mindset” (qtd. in McInnis xiv). The understanding broadened the scope of discussion from science fiction to the roles of science and technology in general and opened more space for interpretation. Besides science fiction, humor is another essential feature of Vonnegut’s narrative that has caused much controversy. Scholars generally agree that Vonnegut is a superb humorist, but they disagree as to whether there are serious messages behind the mocking voice. Earlier critics were especially doubtful about this. Whereas C. D. B. Bryan was among the earliest critics to call attention to Vonnegut, assessing him as “the most readable and amusing of the new humorist”, he complained that Vonnegut “takes very little seriously”, and believed this prevented the author from being a major satirist on the order of John Barth (31). Likewise, Robert Scholes called the black humorists—Vonnegut among them—“fabulators” instead of satirists, because they lacked “the rhetoric of moral certainty” that readers expected from satire (“Kurt Vonnegut and Black Humor” 74). In his later New York Times Book Review of Slaughterhouse-Five, though, Scholes became more affi rmative. He succinctly summarized the moral taught in Slaughterhouse-Five as “Be kind. Don’t hurt” and lauded the healing effect of Vonnegut’s humor, ranking him among the “stoic Comedians” (“[History as Fabulation]: Slaughterhouse-Five” 37).

[1] See Willis E. McNelly’s article, “Kurt Vonnegut as Science-Fiction Writer”, and his talk in the seminar “Vonnegut in Academe”, both in Vonnegut in America, eds. Klinkowitz & Lawler (New York: Delacorte Press/Seymour Lawrence, 1977), 87-96, 193. Introduction 7

Opinions of Charles Thomas Samuels and Peter S. Prescott were completely harsh. Samuels refused to acknowledge any worth in Vonnegut’s writing, except “what his rise itself indicates: ours is an age in which adolescent ridicule can become a mode of upward mobility”. He found Vonnegut’s characters “one-dimensional grotesques impersonating people” (qtd. in Reed 1972: 21). Prescott showed his outrage even more fiercely commenting on Breakfast of Champions. “Manure, of course. Pretentious, hypocritical manure,” he declared, “From time to time, it’s nice to have a book you can hate […] and I hate this book for its preciousness, its condescension to its characters, its self-indulgence and its facile fatalism” (39). Is Vonnegut trying to tell us something in his novels? Peter Reed’s answer was both “Yes” and “No”. He concluded his 1972 examination of Vonnegut’s six early novels by saying that “[t]o see his novels as explaining or answering large philosophical questions would be to do them a disservice. Or, to put it another way, his explanation might be that there is much that we do not, and perhaps cannot know, and that to embrace formulae which seem to offer answers is dangerous”. For him, Vonnegut’s special strength lay in his warning against the desire for ultimate answers to universal questions. The lesson Vonnegut taught us was that “the world […] appears absurd, and life within it generally seems ultimately meaningless” (1972: 205, 206). This leads to another baffl ing question: Is Vonnegut a nihilist? Is he a pessimist? Or, to put it another way, is he, like his most famous protagonist Billy Pilgrim, a moral quietist who adopts fatalist Tralfamadorianism and determines on the withdrawal from any active social participation? Many critics of the 1970s answered the questions affirmatively. They treated Vonnegut as an absurdist who viewed the world as ridiculous and meaningless and who thus assumed a worldview of “total resignation” (Harris 75), hiding his despair behind “escapist, regressive fantasies” Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 8 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

(Edelstern 129) and dark laughter. Ihab Hassan (1973) named Vonnegut a fatalist. John Gardner suggested that it was natural to see Vonnegut as a nihilist, for Vonnegut’s writing suffered from a “lack of commitment” (qtd. in Merrill 1990: 13). Josephine Hendin believed that “spacing out is Vonnegut’s answer to death, war, and human glaciers” and “that dumbness is precisely Vonnegut’s solution” in Slaughterhouse-Five (qtd. in Merrill 1990: 13). David Bosworth contended in “The Literature of Awe” that what Vonnegut recommended was “pessimism, cynicism, resignation, despair” (23). Shallow or biased as these readings might be, they were revealing facts that during the 1970s pessimism and resignation to determinism were widely acknowledged as the trademarks of Vonnegut’s fi ction. Other critics tried to counterbalance this pessimistic and fatalistic reading. Doris Lessing argued that “what Vonnegut deals with, always, is responsibility” and that Vonnegut refused to succumb to “the new and general feeling of helplessness” (46) Gros-Louis recommended readers to distinguish Vonnegut from Billy Pilgrim, for Vonnegut represented pacifi sm and Billy a form of Tralfamadorian passivity. Peter Reed, Klinkowitz, and Robert Merrill all made conscientious efforts to establish a more hopeful image of the author, but somehow, they found it hard to reconcile the “humane optimism” they tried to foreground and the dark pessimism that so powerfully prevailed in most of his novels[1]. There was a general diminish in the body of criticism on Vonnegut in the 1980s and unfavorable criticism continued, accusing him of “adolescent stoicism” (Aldridge 7), “sentimental whimsy” (Karl 174), and “bewilderment and resignation” (Saltzman 90). Nonetheless, some studies showed a better understanding of Vonnegut’s art and messages.

[1] See Klinkowitz, “The Literary Career of Kurt, Vonnegut, Jr.,” in Critique 14 (1973): 57-67; Peter Reed, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (New York: University of Minnesota Press, 1972) 204-220; Robert Merrill, “Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions: The Conversion of Heliogabalus,” Cri- tique 18 (1977): 99-109. Introduction 9

Kathryn Hume published three articles in 1982[1], trying to unravel the tension between “the pessimism born of experience and the optimism stemming from background and value” (201). Instead of viewing him as nihilistic, Hume believed Vonnegut had struggled to work out a value system for the contemporary age. “He is no Pollyanna, but neither is he totally pessimistic or cynical,” she contended, “His last three novels [namely, Breakfast of Champions, Slapstick, and ] take affirmative stances and work to support these in the face of humanity’s inhumanity” (214). Hume’s position marked an important turn in Vonnegut criticism. An optimistic Vonnegut became distinct by the 1990s. Leonard Mustazza’s approach from the myth of Eden[2], Lawrence Broer’s psychoanalytical investigation of madness (1994), Kevin Boon’s study in view of the theory of chaos (1997), Todd Davis’ examination from the perspective of postmodernism and (2006), and Gilbert McInnis’ attempt at uncovering an evolutionary mythology in Vonnegut’s writings (2011) all endeavored to present a Vonnegut who was dedicated to maintaining the dignity and beauty of humanity in face of violence, disaster, and chaos. If earlier critics tended to evaluate Vonnegut’s philosophy in the dichotomous formula of “either…or”, emphasizing one aspect over the

[1] The three articles are: “Kurt Vonnegut and the Myths and Symbols of Meaning,” (Texas Studies in Literature and Language 24 (1982): 429-47); “The Heraclitean Cosmos of Kurt Bonnegut,” (Papers on Langue and Literature 18 (1982): 208-24); and “Vonnegut’s Self- Projections: Symbolic Characters and Symbolic Fiction,” (Journal of Narrative Technique 12 (1982): 177-90). The former two are reprinted in Merrill’s Critical Essay on Kurt Vonnegut (Boston: G. K. Hall & Co., 1990) 201-216, 216-230. The page numbers are based on this re- print. [2] See “Vonnegut’s Tralfamadore and Milton’s Eden,”Essays in Literature 13 (1986): 299-312. Leonard Mustazza later extended the argument of the essay into a monograph, Forever Pur- suing Genesis: the Myth of Eden in the Novels of Kurt Vonnegut (Cranbury: Associated Uni- versity Presses, 1990). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 10 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

other (usually pessimism over optimism)[1], critics of the recent years were more inclined to accept the coexistence of both. Lawrence Broer, for example, saw the confl icting elements of fatalism and optimism as the manifestation of the character’s schizophrenic split of the self, a split into “a self that affi rms and a self that denies”. For him, the attempts at resolving the combat of these warring identities constituted the “psychoanalytic plot” central to Vonnegut’s novels. Although it was justifi able for critics to read Vonnegut as a cosmic pessimist, Broer contended, it was wrong to ignore the “spiritual twin” of the nihilistic voice in the protagonists, “the efforts of a healthy, yearning, creative self to brave the life struggle, to develop the awareness and courage to act against self-imprisoning cat’s cradles and to determine its own identity in a world of mechanistic conformity and anonymity” (10). While the fatalistic characters were what Vonnegut warned us against, the positive yearning was what he advocated. For Broer, Vonnegut’s “creative craziness” served for both himself and the reader as a therapy to regain equilibrium in a mad and aggressive world. Boon used the chaos theory to approach the paradoxical coexistence of pessimism and optimism. He argued that although Vonnegut departed from the modernist writers in that instead of “bringing order to chaos”, he would “bring chaos to order” (KV’s words in Breakfast of Champions 210), his universe of disorder and indeterminacy was not without hope. “Vonnegut clearly advocates a world that would use more human kindness,” observed Boon (1997: 31). Human kindness to Vonnegut was essential to help people fend off despair. Therefore, “Vonnegut’s universe is one where both determinacy and indeterminacy serve a function: determinacy provides human beings with some sense of stability and indeterminacy provides

[1] The tendency to stress the pessimistic aspect of Vonnegut also persists in recent studies. For example, Josephine Hendin wrote in Harvard Guide to Contemporary American Writing that Vonnegut celebrated themes of detachment and meaninglessness as devices for diminishing the emotional charge of painful experiences and offered only “passivity, acceptance, resig- nation, and denial” as solution to the sense of helplessness life engenders (qtd. in Broer 8). Introduction 11 human beings with a universe rich with variety and possibility” (1997: 33). In other words, Vonnegut bridged the modernist closure and the postmodernist nihilism, adopting postmodernist techniques, while hanging on to the modernist ideals of meaning and value. In comparison, Todd F. Davis’s evaluation of Vonnegut’s philosophy was more straightforward and affirmative. He dismissed as irrelevant all contentions that treated Vonnegut as a pessimist, defeatist, or escapist and defined the writer as a “postmodern moralist” and described Vonnegut’s philosophy as “postmodern humanism”, a concept Davis coined to link up the postmodern technique and the humanistic concerns of value and essence. In face of an absurd postwar world, Davis argued, Vonnegut endeavored to help his reader to maintain dignity and search for the meaning of existence. For David Simmons, too, that Vonnegut was an adamant humanist was beyond question. In a four-page introduction to New Critical Essays on Kurt Vonnegut (2009), he repeated the word “humanism” five times, all in the emphatic manner. He argued that the neglect Vonnegut suffered was mainly due to the author’s “continuing humanism that positioned him at odds with an increasingly postmodernist and poststructuralist critical fraternity throughout the 1970s and much of the 1980s”. He referred to Vonnegut’s featured theme as the author’s “staunch humanism and idealism” and hoped that the collection of essays he assembled would be able to demonstrate not only the author’s great intelligence and writing ability, but also “his passionate humanism and belief in the socially benefi cial functions of fi ction” (2009: xi-xiv) (emphasis added).

Vonnegut studies in started with translation. The fi rst translation was two short stories from the collection Welcome to the Monkey House, “Unready to wear” and “The Kid Nobody Could Handle”, by Fu Weici in 1979. After that, more translation was done, although not in a steady Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 12 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

fl ow[1]. By 2011, seven of Vonnegut’s publications had Chinese versions, some more than one: , God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, Slaughterhouse-Five, Cat’s Cradle, Jailbird, , and . However, although the interest in Vonnegut’s works is growing in China, it seems much limited to the literary circle. Works such as , The Sirens of Titan, Slapstick, , Galapogas, Bluebeard, and Hocus Pocus have no translation and remain largely unknown to the general reader. In the critical world, although interest in Vonnegut is on the rise, it is in an uneven manner. A research on the CNKI database in 2012 showed 57 articles bearing the keyword “Vonnegut” in the title between 1979 to 2011, but among them 52 articles were published between 2000-2011[2]. The volume of MA theses on Vonnegut increased mainly after 2000. The database also showed a Doctoral dissertation by Chen Shidan (2002), but this is obviously incomplete, for as far as I know, there are two other dissertations on Vonnegut: one by Luo Xiaoyun (2005) and one by Shang Xiaojin (2006). In terms of studies on specifi c works, the search with “Slaughterhouse- Five” as keyword turned up 72 published articles and 25 “Best MA theses”. The results dropped drastically with other works, 13 articles and 6 “Best MA theses” for “Cat’s Cradle”, 12 articles and 3 “Best MA theses” for “Timequake”, 5 articles and 4 “Best MA theses” for “Breakfast of Champions”. Results for other works were even fewer, or none at all.

[1] At fi rst, the translation was mainly directed at short stories and excerpts from Slaughterhouse- Five. In the mid-1980s, more novels were translated. After a curious gap between 1989 and 1997, a revival of interest appeared at the beginning of the new century and more works by Vonnegut were translated, at a much quicker pace, too. When Liu Hongtao’s translation of A Man Without a Country came out in 2006, it was only one year after the publication of the English original. [2] The fi ndings are based on four searches on the database, using three different Chinese transla- tions of the author’s name, namely, 冯内古特，冯尼古特，冯尼格特, as well as the English name. Introduction 13

Although the findings from the CNKI database may be incomplete, they are useful in showing us the general contour of Vonnegut studies in China: that of the overwhelming concentration on Slaughterhouse-Five and the burst of interest since 2000. If the latter aspect is an encouraging sign, the former reveals the limitation of critical attention, which, on the other hand, promises ample space for further exploration. In spite of the limitations, much achievement has been made in the Chinese scholarship of Vonnegut. Of all early introductions and analyses, Zhang Ziqing’s article, “A Distorting Mirror Refl ecting the Contemporary American Society: A Tentative Study of Vonnegut and His Works and Art” (1980) serves as a valuable inaugurator.[1] Unlike most earlier scholars who mainly gave general introduction to Vonnegut’s works, Zhang not only introduced seven of Vonnegut’s early novels, but also made important critical analysis of them, covering both thematic concerns and writing techniques. Much of his insight is still sound and cogent today. He pointed out that Vonnegut was a humanitarian writer who was deeply concerned with issues such as war and peace, class oppression and exploitation, racial discrimination, destructive impact of science on human life and the environment, and family disintegration of the capitalist society. Most of the issues Zhang discerned remain essential for understanding Vonnegut. Due to the political atmosphere of the period, however, Zhang’s criticism was highly class-oriented and sometimes sounded biased. In effect, class- orientation marked most the early criticism, including that of Lu Fan and Pu Long, who emphasized Vonnegut’s reflection of the absurdity of the capitalist society but refused to acknowledge any depth in his critique. Besides, although scholars have noticed the unconventional writing techniques in Vonnegut’s fiction, their discussion of them remained traditional. “Postmodernism” was still too new a term for them to readily

[1] 张子清，《反映当代美国社会的一面哈哈镜——试评冯尼古特及其小说的思想性与艺 术性》，载于《当代外国文学》1980年第2期。英文标题为笔者翻译。 Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 14 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

embrace. With the surge of interest in postmodern theories in China since the late 1990s, there appeared a “postmodern turn” in the Vonnegut scholarship. If it remained until the end of the 20th century a major issue of controversy in the American scholarship “whether Vonnegut should be viewed as modern or postmodern” (Broer vii), Chinese scholars seemed to hold little reservation in embracing him as a postmodern writer. Most studies treated Vonnegut as a representative postmodern novelist, and most of them focused on his postmodern techniques ranging from the already categorized, i.e., black humor, absurdity, and science fi ction, to those newly formulated, such as meta-fi ction, fragmentary pastiche, nonlinear narration, authorial intrusion, and many more. In comparison, thematic studies were fewer than those of formal and stylistic, and most of the thematic studies concentrated on the anti-war sentiments, the fate of the anti-hero, and the absurdity of the postmodern world. Much of the rich complexity and multiple possibilities that Vonnegut’s art implies remained unexplored. The doctoral dissertations demonstrated much superiority in scope and perception. Chen Shidan’s Kurt Vonnegut’s Deconstruction and Reconstruction of the Real World and the Fictional World and His Tendency Toward New Historicism tried to integrate Vonnegut’s postmodern techniques with his humanitarian themes. Using postmodern theories and new historicist perspectives, Chen concluded emphatically that Vonnegut was a “postmodernist novelist with humanist ideas” (Chen 2010: 9). Shan Xiaojin focused mainly on Vonnegut’s artistic beliefs and aesthetic principles in Art and Creative Imagination: A Critical Interpretation of Kurt Vonnegut’s Novels, but she also anchored the discussion on Vonnegut’s social commitment and argued that “despite all the fashionable and learned talks about the of art, Vonnegut is determined to make his own novels a vehicle for humanistic faith” (2006: 19). What is encouraging is that in recent years some new directions Introduction 15 appeared in the study of Vonnegut in China. Of particular relevance to the present study is Chen Shidan and Gao Hua’s article that examined Vonnegut’s humanitarianism in light of Murray Bookchin’s theories of ecological society. Two MA theses conducted ecological interpretations of two major works of Vonnegut: Slaughterhouse-Five and Cat’s Cradle[1]. The ecological concerns that run beneath Vonnegut’s humanitarianism have begun to catch attention. From the above review, the trajectory of the Vonnegut criticism becomes clear. For all the contentions and controversies, discussions on the author concur more and more on his humanitarian standpoint. A general understanding can be concluded that Vonnegut is a humanist, a conscientious writer deeply committed to the search of solutions to the human predicament in a postmodern world. The burlesque science-fi ction devices, the puzzling postmodern narrative tricks, the hysterical laughter in face of horror and chaos, are all masks of a profoundly concerned comedian who goes out of his way to arouse his audience from the habitual numbness and resignation to the dehumanizing contemporary condition, to tickle us into a recognition of the irrationality and inhumanity of the postmodern culture. His aim is to generate change, as he says, “Writers should be agents of change” (WFG 237). Gloomy and despairing as he sometimes is, Vonnegut holds fast to the belief in human being’s capability of change for a better future. For all the endeavors to make fair evaluations of Vonnegut’s art and themes, however, very little is done in regard to the animal images in his fiction. Few scholars have ever noticed their presence. Those who have, such as Peter Reed, Stanley Schatt, and Todd F. Davis, only mention them in passing. The complex implications of the rich gallery of animals remain

[1] See Li Chunping (李春萍), “A Spiritual Ecological Interpretation of Slaughterhouse-Five,” MA thesis of Northeastern Normal University, 2009；Wu Zhenzhen (武真真), “Revelation of Destruction: An Ecological Interpretation of Kurt Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle,” MA thesis of Zhengzhou University, 2011. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 16 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

largely ignored. It is the urge to “fi ll in the gap” that leads to the conception of this book.

Ⅱ. Animal Studies and Ecological Humanism

The present study, therefore, is an attempt to explore the possible signifi cance of animals in Vonnegut’s fi ction, in particular, their relevance and contribution to Vonnegut’s unique expression of humanism. The theory of animal studies offers useful theoretical perspectives and approaches for the study, whereas the concept of ecological humanism works well as a resolution to the Vonnegutian puzzle of attacking and advocating humanism at the same time. The roles of animals link the two up. As animal studies and ecological humanism are both emerging fi elds of studies, a relatively detailed introduction to each is necessary. But let’s begin with a general browse of the animal gallery in the Vonnegut world. A. Thematic Matter: Animals in the Vonnegut World

At first thought, Vonnegut seems to have little to do with animals– he is so predominantly concerned with the humankind, with their present condition and future possibilities. He once said that the motivation for him to write is to “catch people before they become generals and Senators and Presidents, and poison their minds with humanity” (CKV 5). Animals are so inconspicuous in contrast to this overwhelming theme that it is very likely to be ignored. However, if only we consider his titles together, Vonnegut’s fondness of animals becomes apparent: Cat’s Cradle, Jailbird, Canary in a Cathouse, Welcome to the Monkey House, and Look at the Birdie. There are also many animals in the titles of short stories: “Tom Edison’s Shaggy Dog”, “Deer in the Works”, “All King’s Horses”, and “The Petrifi ed Ants”. When it comes to his masterpiece, Slaughterhouse-Five, the presence of animals is also Introduction 17 unquestionable. After all, slaughterhouse is a place where are killed. Whereas the title is often read as a metaphor for the brutal killing on the battlefi eld, a familiar rhetoric in American literature since Stephen Crane, the fact that in the novel it refers to a real slaughterhouse demands more consideration. Although many of the animals in these titles can be taken as metaphors or are simply colloquial expressions in which the animals have lost their realistic signification, the author’s preference for the animal- related trope instead of a more common expression, for instance, “prisoner” for “jailbird”, or “look at the camera” instead of “look at the birdie”, seems to suggest more implications. As the linguists tell us, “Metaphor is not just a matter of language”, there could be deep conceptual signifi cance in them (Lakoff and Johnson 6). A large body of animals begins to surface in Vonnegut’s fictional world when we keep our eyes open for them. In Slaughterhouse-Five alone, there are over 30 kinds of animals, many of which appear more than once, such as the dog. In Cat’s Cradle, there are 16 kinds of animals; in Hocus Pocus, 40; in Slapstick, 50. In Galapagos, animals are all over the pages, a fact easy to understand, considering the biological diversity that characterizes the islands. Roughly estimated, there are more than 200 kinds of animals in Vonnegut’s works. Some are domestic, some wild; some are metaphors or imaginary, some real and living. Among these animals, Vonnegut’s favorites are dogs, horses, cats, rats, fish, birds, monkeys, chimpanzees, giraffes, rhinoceros, aardvarks, ants, bugs, germs, and the imaginary unicorn. Sometimes he refers to the animals in the collective noun, such as mammals, dogs, birds, organisms, or simply “animals”. At other times, he uses specifi c denominations, such as the German Shepherd or the Pekingese dog instead of simply dogs; sparrows, eagles, or warblers instead of birds; carp, tuna, perch, or pickerel instead of fi sh; ticks, viruses, and germs, instead of microorganisms. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 18 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

More importantly, although it is true that they seldom assume central positions in the works, many animal images are much more than merely a linguistic rhetoric employed in order to achieve vividness and forcefulness. Some of them actually perform powerful roles and invite us to think that they carry messages that might contribute to the central theme. In The Sirens of Titan, for example, two characters determine to spend the rest of their lives with animals. One is Boaz, the selfi sh and commander of the Martian army who plans to abduct Unk, the male protagonist, on the Martian invasion to Earth but is exiled to Mercury with Unk instead. After three years stranded on Mercury, Boaz comes to love the harmoniums, a thin, kite-like creature inhabiting the caves where he and Unk are imprisoned by the God-like Rumfoord. When Unk tells him that he has figured out the way to leave Mercury and return to Earth, Boaz declines to go with him. He has decided to stay on the planet, taking care of the harmoniums. The narrator tells us that thus Boaz turns from the Martian army commander who cannot help taking pleasure in torturing fellow soldiers into a “wise, decent, weeping, brown Hercules” (ST 212). The other character is Chrono, the son of Unk and Beatrice on Mars. A sullen and indifferent boy brought up on a desert-like planet, Chrono shows no interest in anything but a game of German batball. When he is exiled to the planet Titan with Unk and Beatrice, however, Chrono is fascinated with the enormous bluebirds there, “the most admirable creatures on Titan”. He eventually runs away to live with them. “He wore their feathers and sat on their eggs and shared their food and spoke their language” (ST 304). Reading such plots in a novel that plays with the notions of fate and and deplores the human indifference to one another, we cannot help but wonder their relevance to the main themes and the roles they play. In Slaughterhouse-Five, the narrator refers three times to the horses that draw the wagon on which Billy Pilgrim basks in the sun after the firebombing of Dresden and enjoys his happiest time in life. In the last Introduction 19 and most detailed description, the narrator focuses on a German couple lamenting on the pitiable conditions of the horses, their mouths bleeding and their hooves broken for lack of water and rest. The German couple’s gentle criticism awakens Billy and arouses his sense of shame and pity. For the fi rst time in his unhappy life, Billy Pilgrim cries. It seems that the sight of the horses’ stirs the soft part of his heart that all the atrocity he has undergone has hardened. One more example: at the very end of the novel, the narrator presents us a picture of Dresden turned into a lifeless moon by the fi rebombing. Amidst the chaos and deadly silence, we hear a bird asking, “Poo-tee-weet?” (SF 215) The episode turns out to be a signature of Vonnegut’s art—in a couple of other novels, a bird is asking the same question. But what does he mean? What questions is the bird asking? Although it sounds nonsensical, the bird might be Vonnegut’s persona inviting us to think over profound questions about humanity. In Jailbird, a novel about the political corruption of government and the conflicts between labor and capital, the narrator gives a very detailed portrayal of a dog, a German shepherd, who persistently attacks automobiles passing by the country road. The dog can hardly stand up on his hind legs as a result of being hit too often by the cars. In the same novel, the narrator gives tender descriptions of myriads of bright yellow little birds that dwell within the crown of the Chrysler Building. They fl it within the spacious dome and “are capable of expressing heartbreak” (J 157). In Cat’s Cradle, after almost all living things are killed and everything liquid frozen as a consequence of the accidental spread of ice- nine, a mischievous invention of the professor who invented the atomic bomb, the ants are among the few survivors. “They did it by forming with their bodies tight balls around grains of ice-nine. They would generate enough heat at the center to kill half their number and produce one bead of dew. The dew was drinkable. The corpses were edible” (CC 186). In Hocus Pocus, the narrator repeated a seemingly minor and insignificant Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 20 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

detail three times: that people are eating lobsters boiled alive. Between the repetitions is sandwiched the central plot of how the narrator is dismissed from his post as a professor for no sound reason at all. More radically, the ending of Galapagos presents us a picture of the human future that is both hopeful and disturbing. After a million years, the human beings on the islands of Galapagos evolve/devolve into some kind of “fi sherfolks” that have small brains, furry skins, and fl ipper-like hands, as well as the ability to remain underwater for long periods of time. These seal-like humans live peacefully in the watery environment and enjoy harmony with both nature and themselves. These are just a few examples from Vonnegut’s lively animal kingdom. In almost every story Vonnegut tells, there is at least one leading animal image. Submerged as most of them are underneath the author’s obsessive concern for humanity, these animals make their appearances from time to time, usually when they are the least expected. Like phantoms of mysterious potency, they lurk and roam in the Vonnegut world, surprising us to the recognition of their existence, but at the same time puzzling us with their enigmatic significance. Why are they there? What are they intended to suggest? How are they related to the central themes of the books in which they turn up? Are they pointing to some new directions in Vonnegut’s art and philosophy, directions that Vonnegut scholars have long failed to notice? Or, if the animal images do bear some signifi cance, are they merely instrumental as symbols and metaphors, or do they stand in their own right as living beings? It is this enigmatic nature of these animal images that attracts me to carry out my research. In this book, I will attempt to decode these images, trying to fi gure out their connotation and signifi cation, their roles in assisting the author to convey his predominant themes and at the same time asserting their own rights. In so doing, I hope to either strengthen the existing understanding of Vonnegut, but from a new perspective, or to Introduction 21 unearth some neglected aspects in the spiritual and philosophical world of the late cultural icon. B. Animal Studies: Extending the Human Horizon

The emerging field of animal studies provides a vantage point and theoretical approaches for the investigation of Vonnegut’s animals. As a discipline in the humanities, animal studies arose in the Western countries in the 1970s and has been gathering force ever since. It springs from the premise that animals are both indispensable to the advancement of humanity and worthy of consideration in their own right. Emerging in the wake of the civil rights movement, women’s liberation movement, countercultural movement, and the environmental movement, it partakes in the spirit of liberation and moves on to carry the aspirations of emancipation beyond the human sphere into the nonhuman world. Animal studies focuses on a reexamination of the human-animal relationship. By tracking down the historical transformation of the animal status in the human society and culture, with regards both to the real animals and the cultural representation of them, it interrogates the ethical, cultural, and political implications in the human treatment of animals. The ultimate goal is to bring people to the awareness of the significant roles animals play in our understanding of humanity, alert us to the cruelty and injustice in our treatment (and maltreatment) of animals, help us recognize animals’ moral status as subjects of life, thus defend their rights and welfare and eventually construct a fair, mutual, harmonious relationship between animals and human beings[1].

[1] In most works of animal studies, scholars tend to use “nonhuman animals” to distinguish them from human beings, as they believe humans are animals as well. I agree with them, but for convenience’s sake, I use the word “animal” in its everyday sense to refer to nonhuman animals. For purposes of emphasis, contrast, or rhetoric effects, I will use the term “nonhuman animal” or “nonhuman” to denote animals other than humans. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 22 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

1. The Philosophical History of the Animal

The discussion of the human-animal relationship has seen a long history in the Western philosophy. As early as in ancient Greece, two contending camps began to take shape. One was championed by (384—322 BC), believing in the natural hierarchy in the Great Chain of Being and man’s supremacy over animals. They insisted that there was an insuperable line between humans and animals, regarding the capability of reason as the golden rule for the division. The other camp had Pythagoras as its progenitor. Philosophers in this camp emphasized the interrelatedness between humans and animals, holding that the difference between animals and humans was only in degree, not in kind. Many of them advocated . The philosophical standpoint directly affected people’s thought and practice. For the Aristotelian school, it was only natural for human beings to make use of other animals that are believed to lack reason and thus inferior. Humans had no moral obligation for them. A great number of prominent thinkers were followers of this school of thought, including the Stoic philosophers of the 1st century and St. Augustine (354—430) and St. (1225—1274) of the Middle Ages, but the most influential figure after Aristotle was Rene Descartes (1596—1650), the “father of modern science” and a founder of modern philosophy. Not only did he divide the world into mind and matter, he also propounded a mechanistic view that saw nature as a self-moving machine. Because animals were part of nature, and because they lacked “a thinking soul”, they were organic machines, nothing but “natural automata”. Therefore, people could be absolved “from the suspicion of crime when they eat or kill animals” (61, 62).. To a great extent, Descartes had rationalized and legitimized the human supremacy and dominance over other animals. After him, Hamlet’s dubious celebration of man as “the paragon of animals” became a fact Introduction 23 that was taken for granted[1]. Although Locke, Hume, and Kant rejected Descartes’ dualistic division of mind and matter and protested his callous view that animals lacked perception and feelings, they all stopped short of including animals in the moral community. Their primary concern was still animals’ lack of reasoning capability. The common understanding persisted that animals were resources for human use. During the Enlightenment movement, a two- way intellectual progress was ascertained: on the one hand, it established man’s emancipation and supremacy, yet on the other, nonhuman animals had been degraded into the world of non-feeling objects. This human/animal dichotomy ultimately naturalized and encouraged unrestricted oppression and exploitation of animals as well as the natural world at large. On the part of the Pythagorean school, the battle had been a tough one. Although there were such prominent supporters as Plutarch, Seneca, Ovid, and St. Benedict, their plea for humane considerations for animals had been dimmed in the uproar for more anthropocentric projects. It was with (1748—1832) that things began to change. A pioneering philosopher of , Bentham made gestures of extending the egalitarian principles to the nonhuman species. To answer the century-long question, “what is the criterion for moral considerations?” he observed:

The day may come, when the rest of the animal creation may acquire those rights which never could have been withholden from them but by the hand of tyranny. The French have already discovered that the blackness of the skin is no reason why a human being should be abandoned without redress to the caprice of a tormentor. It may come one day to be recognized, that the number of the legs, the villosity of the skin, or the termination of the os sacrum,

[1] I think this proud assertion is dubious because it is much undermined by the following lines of the same soliloquy: “and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” The sharp letdown of tone, I think, is highly suggestive of Shakespeare’s ironic view and mocking attitude toward the prevailing confi dence in humanity in his time. This will be further explored in Chapter Four. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 24 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

are reasons equally insuffi cient for abandoning a sensible being to the same fate. […] The question is not, Can they reason? Nor Can they talk? But, Can they suffer? (9)

In this statement, Bentham made it explicit that all sentient beings deserved equal moral treatment and abuse based on species was unjust, in the same way as it was unjust in the cases of racial and sexual oppression. Many Enlightenment humanitarians of the 18th century were supportive of Bentham’s statement, such as Shaftesbury, Voltaire, Rousseau, (1753—1839)[1], and (1788—1860)[2]. However, the major breakthrough was not made until in the latter half of the 19th century, with the publication of Darwin’s Origin of Species (1859) and The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex (1871). In the first book, Charles Darwin (1809—1882) put forward two major propositions: that all animals “descended from at most only four or five progenitors”, and that by workings of natural laws simple forms of life have evolved into life forms of elaborate construction and great diversity that are “dependent on each other in so complex a manner” (Origin of Species 364, 368). These propositions drastically shattered the orthodox Christian belief in the myth of creation and projected a biotic community of interdependence. In The Descent of Man, he made an even more radical observation that man evolved from lower animals and the

[1] In the issue of animals moral status, Lawrence was even more radical than Bentham. He denounced systematically the Cartesian view that animals were “merely for the use and pur- poses of man”, claiming that “life, intelligence, and feeling necessarily imply rights”. In these respects, he contended, animals were like people and that “the essence of ” was not “divisible” (qtd. in Nash 24). [2] Like Benthem, Schopenhauer made the capacity for key to his analysis of moral- ity and rejects the contention that animals have no self-consciousness. He insisted that right conduct is based on compassion for all beings who can suffer. He quoted the Indian prayer in support of his belief that boundless compassion for all living beings is the fi rmest and surest guarantee of pure moral conduct—“May all living beings remain free from pain” (Midgley 1983: 52). Nonetheless, like Voltaire and Rousseau, he was not ready yet to carry his compas- sion for other species to the length of abstaining from eating their meat. Introduction 25 natural laws worked the same way in the human evolution as with other organisms. In other words, human beings are animals; we are close cousins of the chimpanzees. More importantly, Darwin refuted the century-long contention that animals were lacking reason and moral consciousness. He expounded that “there is no fundamental difference between man and the higher mammals in their mental faculties” and that animals very low in the scale of organisms have mental powers “much higher than might have been expected” (Descent of Man 86). The relation between humans and other animals turned, in this way, from mastery to kinship. The “insuperable line” became merely a self-deluding illusion. Darwinian theories had boosted the animal protection movement that took its inception in the 19th century, but it also lent force to social Darwinism, which propagated the naturalistic view of the human society and gave excuses to the ruthless oppression of the richer and stronger on the poorer and weaker, which, of course, is abuse of Darwin’s theory. It was not until the 1960s and 1970s when major liberation movements in the human sphere were in full swing that animals began to gain serious moral considerations. ’s publication of in 1975 marked the beginning of a new era in the discussion of animals’ moral status. Under its infl uence, the once sporadic and loosely organized campaigns and protests against grew into a sweeping humane movement—the animal liberation movement[1]. From this cultural soil sprang animal studies.

[1] Early movements of protest had different goals and bore names in different countries and at different times. In Great Britain, there was a vegetarian movement in 1790; in the early 19th century, the organized movement emerged; in the Victorian era, the greatest campaign was the anti- movement. Following the examples of their British prec- edents, Americans had the animal welfare movement and anti-vivisection movement in the 19th century. In Australia, the movement is referred to as the animal protection movement, beginning with the 1873 formation of the Animal Protection Society of New South Wales. This animal welfare movement lost its mass appeal in both Britain and America after WWI and didn’t resume its vigor and infl uence until the 1960s, which transformed into the movement (http://animalstudies.msu.edu/bibliography.php). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 26 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

2. Main Thoughts in Contemporary Animal Studies

Animal studies as a humanities discipline shares the same ethical foundations with African American studies, women’s studies, Marxist studies, and environmental studies: the denunciation of oppression, domination, and exploitation of the weaker kind. As and state in their “Extension Thesis”, those who are concerned about one exploited group will often extend that concern to other groups (qtd. in S. J. Armstrong 6). A latecomer as it is, animal studies offers a locus where all disciplines of moral extension meet and converse. What makes animal studies radically different is that it has as its central concern not welfare of a particular group of the human community, but that of the nonhuman animals, a remarkable shift from inter-personal relation to inter-species relation. Aspiring to transcend the species boundary, animal studies launches the greatest challenges to human institutions among all intellectual endeavors to date. “[I]t poses fundamental challenges […] to a model of subjectivity and experience drawn from the liberal justice tradition and its central concepts of rights, in which ethical standing and civic inclusion are predicated on rationality, autonomy, and agency” (Wolfe 2010: 127). If successful, its victory will be the greatest in the human history of combating difference-based biases. As a highly interdisciplinary field, animal studies embraces a vast range of theories, perspectives, and practices, such as biology, anthropology, sociology, history, philosophy, ethics, psychology, and literary studies. An “animal studies bibliography” offered by Michigan State University classifies the resources into thirteen substantive categories[1],

[1] The Sociology Department of MSU has one of the major centers of Animal Studies in North America. The thirteen categories it offers are: animals as philosophical and ethical subjects, animals as reflexive thinkers, domestication and predation, animals as entertainment and spectacle, animals as symbols and companions, animals in science, education and therapy, animals in history, animals as food, animals in literature and ecocriticism, animals in femi- nism and ecofeminism, animals in religion, myth, and folktales, and conservation and human/ animal confl ict (http://animalstudies.msu.edu/bibliography.php). Introduction 27 and all possess a large body of existing research. As my primary concern in this book is with the conceptual understanding of animals’ roles in the human culture, both symbolically and realistically, I will mainly introduce two schools of studies, in my own categorizing: ethical studies of animals and critical studies of animals. The fi rst group includes both the polemical arguments for the animal welfare and the philosophical examination of the moral status of animals in the human society. They are primarily concerned with the real, living animals and aimed at promoting changes in the patterns of thinking and behavior. The second group is more interested in the animals of the human mind. They make critical inquiry into the animal representation in the Western culture and literature. Although they are also ultimately concerned about the moral status of real animals and aim at conceptual changes, a conscious emphasis is placed on the symbolic and the representational. Ethical Studies of Animals () Contemporary animal ethics is concerned with issues about the animal moral status, animal welfare, animal interests and rights. Scholars and activists investigate into in all conditions: animals for food, animals for research, wild animals, domestic animals, farm animals, animals as pets, zoo and aquarium animals, and animals in entertainment. Raising questions that demand ethical justification for meat eating, sport , animal farming, animal confinement and captivity, etc., they promote public awareness of the cruelty and injustice humans daily infl ict onto nonhuman animals and forcefully challenge the moral complacency we enjoy under the protective assumption of human supremacy and moral absolutism. As Peter Singer puts in the introduction to Animal Liberation, the ultimate goal of animal ethicists is to “[end] oppression and exploitation wherever they occur, and [to see] that the basic moral principle of equal consideration of interests is not arbitrarily restricted to members of our own species” (1990: ii). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 28 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

For animal ethicists, the moral status of an animal is the moral value of the animal in its own right and for its own interests, irrespective of how it will affect human interests. This understanding distinguishes contemporary animal ethics from Kant’s notion that cruelty to animals is bad because it might induce cruelty to humans. For animal studies scholars, we should treat the animal issue for the animal’s sake instead of for the sake of humanity. However, why should animals count morally? What is the criterion for animals’ admission to the human moral community? The ancient questions remain pivotal and different theorists have different understanding. Largely speaking, there are three major theories: the theory, the inherent-value theory, and the biocentric theory. The sentience theory is championed by Peter Singer (1946— ). He grounds his argument in Bentham’s utilitarianism, believing sentience (the capability of experiencing pleasure and pain) to be the basis for moral consideration, instead of reason, intelligence, speech, or emotional power. As long as a being is capable of suffering, we should avoid infl icting pain on it. For Singer, as for all utilitarian thinkers, pleasure is the intrinsic , whereas suffering the intrinsic evil. That which may bring about pleasure is morally right, whereas that which may bring about pain is morally wrong. The fundamental principle is “equal consideration of interests”. Singer argues that the interests of animals should not be considered less than those of humans at a similar cognitive level, and in calculating whether the benefi ts of an action outweigh the harms it would bring about, the interests of animals must be given equal consideration. Nonetheless, he states that we have different obligations for animals that are rational and self- conscious, such as most vertebrates and mammals, from the obligations for those which are not, such as the invertebrates. Tom Ragan (1938— ) is a leading philosopher of the inherent-value theory. His answer to the question about the criterion of animals’ moral status is based on the concepts of rights, in the deontological paradigm Introduction 29 of Kant. In his powerful book, The Case for Animal Rights (1983), he distinguishes two roles in moral consideration, moral agents and moral patients, separating those rational beings who can be responsible for their behavior from those that are mentally weak and are thus unaccountable for what they do. In this way he solves the difficulty in treating animals on an equal footing with human infants, young children, and the mentally deranged or the enfeebled. He further maintains that both moral agents and moral patients are individuals of equal inherent value, despite their different intrinsic value, that is, the kind of experience one has. He then puts forth the concept of subject-of-a-life, proposing it to be the criterion of inherent value. His defi nition of “subject-of-a-life” embraces all intentional beings that have goals and would work towards them, including blacks, women, and sentient animals. But like Singer, he excludes organisms on the lower rung of the evolutionary scale. The limitation of the sentience theory and the inherent-value theory is complemented by biocentric ethics. It maintains that all organic life, human or nonhuman, sentient or nonsentient, possess intrinsic values[1] and deserve equal respect. Biocentric ethics draws heavily on the philosophy of Albert Schweitzer (1875—1965), the German philosopher and humanitarian whose concept of “Reverence for Life” proposes the intrinsic respectability of all living things. Paul Taylor (1923— ) develops Schweitzer’s philosophy of “Reverence for Life” and formulates the fundamental concepts of biocentric ethics in Respect for Nature (1986). He first claims that all living things have a good of their own because they are all “teleological centers of life”, tending towards the biological goals of growth, development, sustenance, [1] Biocentric ethics distinguish intrinsic value from instrumental value by emphasizing the value a being has that is intrinsic to itself, independent of outside factors, including its use to oth- ers. The difference between intrinsic value and inherent value is still an issue of controversy. According to Joseph R. DesJardins (2006), who in turn, follows the understanding of Susan Armstrong and Richard Botzler, intrinsic value is independent of the presence of a valuer. An object has intrinsic value when it has value both in and for itself. On the other hand, inherent value requires the presence of a valuer who confers the value on the object (DesJardins 146). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 30 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

and propagation. Consequently, all living things possess inherent worth and are objects of human duties. He then puts forward the normative claim of a biocentric outlook to conceptualize our relationship with other living things. Basically, biocentrism consists of four central beliefs: 1) Humans are members of the Earth’s community of life in the same sense and on the same terms as all other living things; 2) All species, including humans, are part of a system of interdependence; 3) All living things pursue their own good in their own ways; 4) Humans are understood as not inherently superior to other living things (qtd. in DesJardins 139). With Taylor’s concepts of biocentricism, the animal question is linked to the larger fi eld of . The human-animal relationship becomes an integral component of a larger picture of the ecological community. The ideas of biological community, interdependence, intrinsic value, and human beings’ equal biotic citizenship form a basis for its coalition with deep ecology, land ethics, ecocentrism, and holism. All are efforts to remedy the fallacies of anthropocentricism; all endeavor to view humans in the context of ecological balance and environmental sustainability. The ethical consideration of animals also brings up the connection between animal oppression and other forms of oppression within the human community, i.e. racial, sexual, and class oppression. Peter Singer has helped popularize the term “”, fi rst coined in 1970 by British psychologist and animal-liberation activist Richard Ryder as an analogue of “racism” and “sexism”, propounding that species is not a valid criterion for cruel discrimination. The term illuminates a common ground of animal studies, ethnic studies, and feminist studies, from where a large body of meaningful studies has been conducted. Midgley’s Animals and Why They Matter (1983), Marjorie Spiegel’s Dreaded Comparison: Human and Animal Slavery (1988), and Carol Adams’ The Politics of Meat: A Feminist-Vegetarian Critical Theory (1990) are a few excellent examples. Introduction 31

Critical Studies of Animals scholars believe that “attitudes to living animals are in a large part the result of the symbolic uses to which the concept of the animal is put in popular culture” (Baker 1993: 25). Therefore, they set off to achieve the goal of change by looking into the human conception and perception of the animal. In terms of political agenda, critical animal studies is a sister discipline of ecocriticism.[1] Spurred by a concern that became exigent since the 1960s, the ecological crisis, both disciplines endeavor to draw critical attention to the relation between humans and the nonhuman world: animal studies focuses on the human relationship with the other animal species, while ecocriticism is concerned with the ecological community as a whole. Like ecocriticism, animal studies calls to order the reexamination and reassessment of Western culture in search of a redefinition of mankind’s place in the world. The ultimate goal is to reestablish a harmonious relationship between humans and nature. In terms of theoretical methodology, animal studies follow the logic of poststructuralism, in particular, the propositions of decentering the subject, disrupting binary oppositions, and transgressing boundaries. Poststructuralist sages such as Jacques Derrida, Gilles Deleuze, and Michel Foucault are important spiritual resources. Animal-studies critics want to carry further the revolutionary job of Foucault and his followers, whose decentering of the human subject they consider incomplete. As Erica Fudge points out, “[In the works of Foucault and his followers,] [s]trategies of othering are examined, but only in terms of othering humans; the animal

[1] Many people would say that animal studies is a sub-discipline of ecocriticism, and many major scholarly works of ecocriticism have a separate chapter for the animal question. But judging from the growing concentration of academic interest in the animals (no other subject in ecocriticism has attracted so much attention as an independent topic) and its highly inter- disciplinary relationship with other disciplines, such as philosophy, history, anthropology, sociology, ethics, etc., I feel that animal studies is emerging as an independent discipline, but with close kinship with ecocriticism. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 32 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

is a powerful rhetorical category into which some humans—the mad, the criminal—are placed. Real animals are not the issue” (2002: 14). The titles of some representative publications are highly illustrative of the thematic enterprises of critical animal studies: “Why Look At Animals?” (Berger 1980), Picturing the Beast: Animals, Identity, and Representation (Baker 1993), Perceiving Animals: Humans and Beasts in Early Modern English Culture (Fudge 2000), Representing Animals (Rothfels 2003), Figuring Animals (Pollock and Rainwater 2005), and Animal Rites (Wolfe 2003), Animal Gaze (Woodward 2008), Animal Subjects (Castricano 2008), Animalizing Imagination (Bleakley 2000), and Poetic Animals and Animal Souls (Malamud 2003). Manifestly, there is a concentration of concerns on the way animals are represented and perceived by the human spectator, implicating a critique of the objectifi cation and othering of the animal. A constructive view proposed is to look at the animal as subjects of “souls”, of autonomy and agency with which animals return the human gaze. A shared understanding among animal-studies scholars is that the marginalization of animals in the human life is a modern event, one that had not started until the 18th century, in the wake of industrialization. In the long history before this, “animals constituted the first circle of what surrounded man. […] They were with man at the center of the world” (Berger 1980: 1). Literature of earlier cultures all indicated the affi nity of humans and animals. Humans relied on animals not only for food, clothing, labor, and transport, but also oracular messages, symbols for divine power, moral metaphors, and companionship. Early cultures found man and animals both “like” and “unlike” (Berger), and this feeling of familiarity as well as mystery made animals a revered companion. As Jean Baudrillard is quoted saying, “animals have always had, until our era, a divine or sacrificial nobility that all mythologies recount. Even murder by hunting is still a symbolic relation, as opposed to an experimental dissection […]” (qtd. in Bleakley 12). It is Descartes’ mechanistic view of animals in the Introduction 33

Enlightenment and the 19th-century Industrial Revolution that expelled animals from the center of the human society. With the invention of the internal combustion engine of the 20th century and the growing pace of urbanization, draught animals, fi eld animals, and wild animals by and by disappeared from the human horizon. In the contemporary culture, the real, authentic, direct contact with the animal is replaced by symbolic, metaphorical, and mediated relations; the intimate and affective is replaced by the exploitative and oppressive. Animals become more and more displaced to the margin of the contemporary experience, as extinct or endangered species, tourist attractions in the zoo, pets at home, guinea-pigs for laboratory experiments, or, more frequently, milk or meat producing machines.[1] On the other hand, the images of animals permeate every aspect of human life as cultural artifacts and symbols, dead but indispensable. For most scholars, this degradation of the animals’ roles in the human life is the side-effect of modernism. Baudrillard is quoted again, “animals were only demoted to the status of inhumanity as reason and humanism progressed” (Bleakley 22; Malamud 2003: 4). In other words, there is a reversed process in the change of status of animals and man. While the position of man in the world has been dramatically elevated, that of the animal has been increasingly relegated. “It may be true to say that the more civilized the society, the worse are its attitudes towards animals” (Bleakly 30). According to Berger, the historical loss of the companionship offered by animals to the “loneliness of man as a species” is now “irredeemable for the culture of capitalism” (1980: 4, 26). Therefore, it is only logical that animal studies promotes a general critique of rationalism, industrialism, and anthropocentric humanism. As has become apparent, the discussion of man is always related [1] Wolfgang Giegerich lists seven forms of contact with animals for contemporary urban popu- lation. These are the fi rst six, the seventh is “biological organism and production of evolu- tion”, quoted in Bleakley, 34. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 34 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

with the discussion of the animal in the Western history of philosophy. Animal-studies scholars argue that animals have played a “potent and vital role in the symbolic construction of human identity” (Baker 1993: x). People rely on animals to defi ne who they are. According to structuralist anthropologists, one of the main functions of animals in human culture is to stake out the perimeter of that culture: “humans use animals in order to specify clearly who they are and where the differences lie between themselves and the natural world, particularly between themselves and animals” (Franklin 12). Whereas in societies outside the Western sphere, there are prevalent beliefs in the interdependent relationship between man and animals, the Western culture sticks to the dualistic thinking, seeing humans and animals as an oppositional pair, with man here and animals out there. Even in Berger’s criticism of the degradation of the human-animal relation resulting from the “culture of capitalism”, signs of this dualism are discernible, as in its emphasis of the incomprehensibility of the animal gaze and the distinctiveness of the animal from the human (Malamud 2003: 67). “[T]he human is only ever meaningful when understood in relation to the not-human,” Erica Fudge observes, using Saussure’s paradigm that meaning consists in difference. She suggests that “human” in is a category of difference: “The innate qualities that are often claimed to defi ne the human—thought, speech, the right to possess private property […]— are actually only conceivable through animals” (Fudge 2002: 10). “Animals are vehicles, burdened with the anthropocentrically symbolic projections of our own minds” (Malamud 2003: 4). In order to secure man’s position as the pinnacle of the world, animals are repressed in the Western culture as souless. As Steve Baker observes, the popular culture’s stereotypes of animals as “lucky cows” or “cute cats” are in effect a process of what Roland Barthes terms as “naturalization”, a political distortion of the animal in order to “maintain the illusion of human identity, centrality and superiority” (1993: 3-29). Introduction 35

The chief goal for critical animal studies, therefore, is to “question and demythologize the idea of animal imagery as a ‘natural’ resource for saying-things-about-humans” (Baker 1993: x) and to combat the exploitative uses of animals both as real, living beings and as metaphors and symbols in human culture. John Simons, a literary critic, rewrites Karl Marx’s maxim that “the history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles” into “the history of all hitherto existing society is the history of struggle between humans and non-humans” (7). He calls for literary scholars to investigate “how literary studies can respond to the changes of attitudes towards animals that are now such an important part of popular consciousness and public debate” (5). He himself sets off to examine the ways in which “animals appear in texts, are represented and fi gured, in and for themselves and not as displaced metaphors for the human” (6). More specifi cally, in Poetic Animals and Animal Souls (2003), Randy Malamud proposes fi ve principles as an ecocritical aesthetic: seeing animals without hurting them; seeing them in their context; teaching about animals; advocating respect for them; and knowing them, richly but also incompletely (45). In a nutshell, the concern for the animal is growing into an exuberant field in cultural and literary studies. As it becomes more and more consistent and systematic, animal studies will provide the humanities with a wider stage for their contribution to the restoration of human-nature harmony and ecological sustainability. In the following discussion of Vonnegut’s treatment of animals in his fiction, I employ the concepts and theories from both animal ethics and animal criticism. While animal ethics offers perspectives of understanding the animals’ ethical status and their maltreatment in the human society, animal criticism provides useful theoretical approaches and analytical tools. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 36 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象 C. New Directions of Humanism: the Animal Turn

As Raymond Williams writes, “What is often being argued … in the idea of nature is the idea of man” (qtd. in Peterson 1). Most of the philosophers attending to the discussion of the animal question are also humanist thinkers. The question of the human and that of the nonhuman are inseparable. To a great extent, “animal liberation is human liberation too” (Singer 1990: vii). Mahatma Gandhi has also made the point that “[t]he progress of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated” (qtd. in Castricano 1). In the historical course of changing attitudes towards animals, we see the trajectory of the evolution of humanism. From its initial exhilaration at the emancipation of humanity to the overweening pride in human supremacy, through a process of action and reaction, inheritance and revolt, humanism has arrived at an era that calls for an internal transformation, one that is marked with the opening up of boundaries. has noted that the central concepts of humanism such as equality, justice, , and fraternity have no built-in limits and are themselves essentially tools for widening concerns. They have the potential to break down prejudices that constrict their power of concern. Historically, this has been repeated many a time. To some extent, the human history is a process of boundary destruction and reconstruction, with its domain of humanitarian consideration expanding all along. Race, gender, class, ethnicity, nationality, age, sexuality, and disability… all have been blocks that have been or are being removed. With these intra-human barriers tackled, the time has come for speciesism—the barrier between human and nonhuman species—to be cleared away. The latest development of humanism indicates such an animal/ ecological turn. Three major derivations sprang from the tradition of antihumanism in the Western thought, as represented by Nietzsche, Sartre, Introduction 37

Adorno, Althusser, and Foucault[1]. They are inhumanism, transhumanism, and posthumanism. All these new developments of humanism have attached importance to the deterioration of the natural environment in their treatment of humanity. Inhumanism, a term coined by the postwar American poet and environmental thinker Robinson Jeffers (1887—1962), is meant to alert readers to the spiritual danger of human egocentrism and to awaken them to an order of beauty and truth beyond the human sphere. For Jeffers, the natural world has much more primacy over the human world, and he calls inhumanism “a shifting of emphasis from man to non- man; the rejection of human solipsism and recognition of the transhuman magnifi cence” (preface to The Double Axe, 1948). His famous remark “I’d sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk” is echoed in the sardonic declaration of the contemporary American environmentalist Edward Abbey, “I’d rather kill a man than a snake” in Desert Solitaire. It might be because of this bold radicalism that the term hasn’t gone beyond the small circle of Jeffers enthusiasts. As Tony Davies puts it, it sounds too close to “inhumanity” (136). But the emphasis of the beauty and integrity of the natural world catches on and becomes an integral part of environmental ethics. Instead of a conceptual revolution, “Transhumanism” looks to science (prosthetics, cryonics, genetics, and nano-technology) for human survival in a degraded world. The transhuman is a biotechnological “Superman” that transcends mankind’s historic limitations. Joe Garreau explains that transhumanism is dedicated to “the enhancement of human intellectual, physical, and emotional capabilities, the elimination of disease and unnecessary suffering, and the dramatic extension of life span” by means of engineered evolution (qtd. in Wolfe 2010: xiii). The supreme confi dence in science and technology and the belief in the human capability of [1] For the discussion of antihumanism, see Tony Davies, Humanism (London and New York: Routledge, 2008 [1997]) and Kate Soper, Humanism and Anti-Humanism (London: Hutchin- son and Co., 1986). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 38 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

transcending its biological limits defi ne transhumanism as an extension of the hubris of the Renaissance and Enlightenment humanism. In the words of Cary Wolfe, transhumanism is “an intensifi cation of humanism” (2010: xv). Of the three contemporary derivations of humanism, “posthumanism” enjoys the widest circulation. The term was fi rst brought up by Ihab Hassan in a 1977 essay when he says, “We need to understand that fi ve hundred years of humanism may be coming to an end, as humanism transforms itself into something that we must helplessly call posthumanism” (qtd. in Badmington 2). We now quite frequently come across expressions such as “the posthuman world”, “the posthuman condition”, the evolution of “post- humans”, etc. Despite its growing popularity, however, posthumanism as an emergent branch of philosophy remains unclear in defi nition and uncertain in tenets. Some people consider “posthumanism” as “after humanism”, referring to the cultural continuity of the philosophical enthroning of man. Others, on the contrary, think the term refers to the condition after the philosophical decentering of man. Some other people see value in the term’s signification of the drastic changes in the classic definition of man in a technologically and metaphysically transformed postmodern world. For Tony Davies, author of Humanism (1997), “posthumanism” resembles “postmodernism” in that the suffix “post-” signifies both continuity and rupture, “continuity in its ongoing preoccupation with humanist themes of identity, liberty and secular ; rupture in its rejection of the privileged position accorded to humankind among other concepts and life forms” (152). For Neil Badmington, editor of a collection of essays under the title Posthumanism (2000), posthumanism inherits something of its “post-” from poststructuralism, or more specifi cally, from Derrida’s theories of deconstruction. “Humanism never manages to constitute itself; it forever rewrites itself as posthumanism. This movement is always happening: humanism cannot escape its ‘post-’” (9). For both Davies and Introduction 39

Badmington, any critique and denial of the classic humanist concepts, such as the sovereignty of reason and the autonomy of man, are acts of posthumanism. Cary Wolfe, a founding figure in animal studies and posthumanist theories, acknowledges the “different and even irreconcilable” definitions of posthumanism and makes great efforts to clear away the confusion (2010: xi). Firstly, he distinguishes “transhumanism” from “posthumanism”, maintaining that transhumanism inherits rather than rebels against Renaissance humanism and the Enlightenment ideals of human perfectibility, rationality, and agency, thus it should be seen as an “intensification of humanism”, or “bad” posthumanism (xvii). Secondly, he clarifies the signification of “post-”. For Wolfe, “posthumanism isn’t posthuman at all—in the sense of being ‘after’ our embodiment has been transcended—but is only posthumanist, in the sense that it opposes the fantasies of disembodiment and autonomy, inherited from humanism itself […]” (xv). In a further explanation, he says,

My sense of posthumanism is thus analogous to Jean- Francois Lyotard’s paradoxical rendering of postmodern: it comes both before and after humanism: before in the sense that it names the embodiment and embeddedness of the human being in not just its biological but also its technological world, the prosthetic coevolution of the human animal with the technicity of tools and external archival mechanisms (such as language and culture) […] all of which comes before that historically specifi c thing called “the human” that Foucault’s archaeology excavates. But it comes after in the sense that posthumanism names a historical moment in which the decentering of the human by its imbrication in technical, medical, informatic [sic], and economic networks is increasingly impossible to ignore […] (xvi) Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 40 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

The core of this definition, I think, is twofold. First, posthumanism insists on materiality and embodiment, as opposed to humanism’s emphasis of transcendence and disembodiment; second, posthumanism believes in the realization of the removal of man from the center of the world, as opposed to humanism’s celebration of the centrality of humanity. As a leading figure in animal studies, Wolfe also makes a strong point about the place of the discussion of the animal question in posthumanist undertakings, distinguishing two ways of thinking: humanist posthumanism and posthumanist humanism by denoting the signifi cance of both subjects of study and the theoretical and methodological approaches. Wolfe’s writing is famous for its convoluting and obtrusive style. As one commentator notes, beyond the theoretical density in his elusive writing and his constant reference to Derrida, Foucault, Latour, Deleuze, and Niklas Luhmann, there is little we can grasp for a central understanding of posthumanism. The confusion that Wolfe undertakes to clarify remains. As in the case of postmodernism, the legitimacy of posthumanism in the public and academic discourse will stay in debate for quite some time, and its theoretical tenets are yet to be further formulated. For all the confusion and limitations in these new directions of humanism, a common tendency has begun to manifest: the conscious effort to reexamine and reevaluate classic humanism’s contentions in a larger context—the ecological and planetary as well as the social. The discussion of humanity is frequently accompanied by and related to the discussion of animals and the natural environment. The cause for this animal/ecological turn is obvious. As Davies has noted, of all the scenarios of the “death of man”, the primary worry identifi ed in recent years is that of the ecological catastrophe and the impending danger of the extinction of the human species, the probability of which is created and enhanced by nobody but man himself, in his “reckless enlargement of the bounds of empire” (Davies 131). To confront such dismaying prospects, contemporary intellectuals not Introduction 41 only adopt the critical tradition of antihumanism, but also have to include animals and nature into their interrogation of humanism. While inhumanism is too radical to receive wide reception, transhumanism is too suspicious of intensifying the arrogance inherent in the classic humanism, and posthumanism remains too vague and metaphysical to be applicable, we need a new paradigm to help us comprehend our position in the universe and direct us to reform, or even to revolutionize, our patterns of thought and behavior. We need something more explicit and trustworthy than metaphysical wordplay. Ecological humanism serves the purpose. D. Ecological Humanism

There has been sporadic talk about ecological humanism in both Western and Chinese academia since the latter part of the last century. Henryk Skolimowski published a small tract entitled “Ecological Humanism” in 1975, but unfortunately the book is out of print and is hard to find. In 1997, She Zhengrong wrote an article, “Toward Ecological Humanism”, in which he divided the development of humanism into three stages: nature-oriented humanism, science-and-technology-oriented humanism, and ecological humanism[1]. He pointed out the destructive effects on nature of the science-and-technology-oriented humanism, which he equaled to anthropocentrism, and proposed that ecological humanism should be a more constructive form of civilization, in which the human- nature relationship would transform from one of conquest and exploitation to one between child and mother, part and whole, dweller and home (43). However, She Zhengrong’s proposition of ecological humanism rests mainly with the critique of the Western worship of science and technology

[1] 佘正荣， 《走向“生态人文主义”》，《自然辩证法研究》，Vo l. 13, No. 8, 1997，41-45。 三个阶段的中文表述为 ：“自然人文主义”、“科技人文主义”和“生态人文主义”。英 文表述为笔者翻译。 Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 42 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

and a redefinition of the human-nature relationship. It serves well as an introduction but is inadequate for a thorough and comprehensive study. In America, two articles came out in 2001 and 2003 that bear “ecological humanism” on the title[1]. Both articles demonstrate the writers’ perception in their critique of the hegemonic control of classic humanism and their far sight in proposing ecological humanism as a solution to the exigent situation Homo sapiens are in face of, but their discussions of ecological humanism are far from suffi cient. Both refer to it very briefl y, as suggested solutions after lengthy discussion of weaknesses of classic humanism, but neither makes much in-depth explanation. On the whole, ecological humanism as a concept is still in its inception. Existing discussions about it are rather flimsy and want of system. They are mostly intuitive and empirical, and the advocacy of the concept has been largely ignored. On basis of a common understanding of animal studies, environmental ethics, and the new developments of humanism, and with a belief that the concept of ecological humanism is highly in order in the contemporary ecological context, I hereby venture to make a systematic and comprehensive exposition of its central propositions. Simply put, ecological humanism, or eco-humanism for short, means humanism rectifi ed with an ecological consciousness. Resituating humans in the ecological sphere, it rejects the long-standing mythology of the reign of man and proposes to conceptualize humans as equal citizens of the biotic community. No longer the domineering master looking down upon other species from his elevated throne, man sees the world horizontally and in terms of connection, as a web of symbiotic relations that feature interdependence and mutual benefi t rather than combat and conquest. On this life-breathing web, the human community is but one knot linking others and being linked by others. [1] Steven Fesmire, “Ecological Humanism: a Moral Image for our Emotive Culture”. The Humanist. Jan/Feb 2001, Vol. 61 issue 1, 27-30; Roger Griffi n, “Ecological Humanism and the Grounding of Utopia”, New Humanist, November, 2003. Introduction 43

As in the cases of inhumanism and posthumanism, ecological humanism grounds its argument in the critique of classic humanist assumptions; but unlike them, eco-humanism does not stop at deconstructing and subverting established concepts. It also proposes remedies for their follies. 1. Critique of centrism and dualism. Ecological humanism rejects the narrow-minded egocentric way of thinking in classic humanism. In effect, it tries to discard all the of centrism that have prevailed in the Western thought, with logocentrism as the root for other forms of centrism, including Eurocentrism, androcentrism, and anthropocentrism. For the ecological humanists, one form of such centric thinking is always interlocked with another, and it always results in discrimination, injustice, domination, and oppression. As an alternative, they take up a more open, heterogeneous worldview in treating with relations both within the human community and in the larger ecological world, both inter-personal and inter-species. Eco-humanism also denounces the Western mindset of dualism that sees mind in opposition to body, soul to fl esh, reason to emotion, men to women, and most of all, human to nature. As Val Plumwood puts it, the human/nature dichotomy has helped create ideals of culture and human identity that promote human distance from, control of, and ruthlessness towards the sphere of nature as the Other, while minimizing non-human claims to the earth and to elements of mind, reason and ethical consideration (4). A holistic view that emphasizes interdependence, connection, and equality will help rescue the world that suffers from such divisions and restore the wholesome livelihood to humans, nonhumans, and the ecosystem as a whole. In light of this view, human beings are equal biotic citizens in the ecosphere. Untrammeled from the self-delusion of mastery and supremacy, they will enjoy a new kind of freedom and a new sense of selfhood, and above all, new fellowship with other species in the biosphere. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 44 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

2. Critique of rationalism. Ecological humanism sees the Western cult of reason as fundamentally destructive in that it gives man a false illusion of omniscience and omnipotence, and thus fills him with hubris and ignorant confi dence. Feeling like God, man wields his mental power like a naughty boy with his toy sword. The results are manifold: the rapid development of science and technology that alienates humans more and more from their natural environment and the biological home while bringing apparent ease and comfort to their lives, the modernization of warfare that facilitates large scale of killing without evoking in the killer the least sense of remorse, the invention of nuclear weapons that can bring horrible deaths not only to humans but everything hit upon and around, the unbridled exploitation of the natural resources, and the justification and naturalization for the exploitation and subjugation of anything and anybody that is considered closer to nature, thus irrational: animals, women, children, peasants, aboriginals… Plumwood points out succinctly that the reason-centered culture of the West has not only allowed the ecological crisis to deepen to the current dangerous point, but also at one time facilitated the Western domination of other modest and ecologically- adapted cultures on this planet. For her, the current ecological crisis is a “crisis of reason” (5). To help people abandon the indiscriminating faith in reason is to emancipate them from their “mind-forged manacles”, in the words of William Blake. Like Issac Newton in Blake’s painting, humans have long had their visions limited and enclosed by an ill-directed reasoning mind, so that the vastness, mystery, and beauty of the wide world is blocked out from him. Now it is time for them (us) to look up and beyond, to see, to hear, to feel, as well as to comprehend the world with more deliberation and intensity. As Lacan wittily formulates, “I think where I am not, therefore I am where I do not think.” The reasoning mind has abducted our subjectivity and autonomy for too long, we now need a break. Without Introduction 45 the intervention of the prosthetic tools of reasoning, we might be able to resume our unmediated, visceral experience of the world around us and enjoy being part of it. 3. Recognition of the innate value of nature. Ecological humanism rejects the mechanistic understanding of nature that has dominated the Western thought since the 17th century. Instead of treating nature as a self-moving machine, eco-humanism emphasizes nature’s autonomy and agency. They believe that man’s power to understand nature and control it is very limited. Nature has its innate value and power that we have to respect. It is far from being the objectified thing-in-itself that we can manipulate, abuse, and exploit at will. On the contrary, it is an autonomous organic system that has its own laws and order. It does not only provide humans with water, air, food, and other necessities and resources as well as physical settings for social activity, but also generate life itself, including the human life and millions of other life forms. Nature is the Mother of life, the destruction of whom will lead to the destruction of all. Only when we can respect and live by the laws of nature can we achieve ecological sustainability. 4. Extension of the humanistic ideals. Ecological humanism continues to value such humanistic ideals as life, liberty, equality, fraternity, self- realization, justice, natural right, etc. as central guidelines in treating relationships. Even Cary Wolfe agrees that the point of posthumanism is not “to reject humanism tout court—indeed, there are many values and aspirations to admire in humanism” (2010: xvi). A central task of eco- humanism is to extend humanistic aspirations such as equality, liberty, and fraternity to the nonhuman world. There is a general politics of boundary breakdown on all levels: gender, class, race, ethnicity, nationality, sexuality, age, disabilities, and species. Ecological humanism denounces the hierarchical understanding of the human/animal relationship and treat nonhuman animals as independent and equal subjects-of-life and ends-in- Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 46 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

themselves, instead of means and instruments for human purposes. Equal moral consideration is extended to nonhuman animals, and “Reverence for Life” is valued as the fundamental principle of conduct. Even the lowest organisms on the evolutionary scale are not excluded. The interspecies relationship is one of cohabitation, symbiosis, interdependence, and interconnection. Any act of disrespectful, mindless, or wasteful use or consumption is denunciated. 5. A wise use of human reason and a redefi nition of the human role. Although ecological humanism attacks the cult of rationalism and scientism in classic humanism and endeavors to decenter humanity, it is not to say that humans are debased to the point of complete helplessness and their capacity of reasoning to be absolutely repressed from functioning. Human race’s special capabilities are still treasured, including the reasoning power. “It is not reason itself that is the problem,” argues Plumwood in her book devoted to the debunking of the “ecological crisis of reason”, “but rather arrogant and insensitive forms of it that have evolved in the framework of rationalism and its dominant narrative of reason’s mastery of the opposing sphere of nature and disengagement from nature’s contaminating elements of emotion, attachment and embodiment.” She believes reason can be useful rather than hazardous for the human survival in the ecological crisis. “Reason has been made a vehicle for domination and death; it can and must become a vehicle for liberation and life” (Plumwood 5). Even the most critical writers agree that humans have special qualities and graces that give them special powers. Humans are the only species that are capable of refl ecting their behavior and making amendments. This makes it possible for us to mend our ways in our treatment of animals and the natural environment. Some critics also point out that humans are the only species that can think on behalf of other species, so that it is possible that we extend humane consideration to nonhuman species. As Midgley notes, “It is one of the special powers and graces of our species not to Introduction 47 ignore others, but to draw in, domesticate and live with a great variety of other creatures. No other animals do so on anything like so large a scale. Perhaps we should take this peculiar human talent more seriously and try to understands its workings” (1983: 111). To her, the capacity to extend sympathy beyond the species barrier is not an invented faculty, but innate in human nature. It is an evolutionary development that enables humans to excel in their dealing with the environment. Therefore, she concludes, “Evolutionarily speaking, then, it is likely that a species such as ours would fi nd itself equipped for the position which some Old Testament texts give it, of steward and guardian, under God, placed over a range of creatures which he is in principle able to care for and understand, rather than in the one often imagined in science fi ction, of an invader exploiting an entirely alien planet” (1983: 122, emphasis added). The effort to redefine the human role as stewards and guardians in hopes of restoring the ecological integrity is a keynote in ecological humanism. Grounded in the respect for human’s special values, it assigns them special obligations. This might abhor radical posthumanists like Cary Wolfe. They might consider the advocacy for the wise use of human powers as a clinging dream to the old superstition in human perfectibility. However, unlike transhumanism which envisions human evolution by means of technological enhancement in order to retain their mastery position, eco-humanism postulates a wise use of his powers as necessary tools for the benefit of the entire ecosphere. Besides, as Tony Davies, Kate Soper, and many others have observed, the humanist standpoint is inescapable for any anti-humanist thinking. The decentering of humanity does not absolve us from the responsibility of taking care of the biotic community. After all, we are the only species that can practice conscious moral agency for others, although this difference does not endorse supremacy or privilege. The most important form of care, of course, is that we make the best use of reason to curb our own behavior and diminish Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 48 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

the damage we wreak to the other species and the environment. We have played havoc with the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biosphere, it is our duty now to clean up the mess.

Ⅲ. Animal Representation in Vonnegut’s Fiction

A. Vonnegut’s Representation of Animals

Some features of Vonnegut’s menagerie become remarkable in light of the animal studies theories. First of all, most of his animals are weak and awkward. Many are pets or domestic animals, such as dogs, cats, horses, cows, and pigs. They are constantly in danger of victimization, to be turned into dishes on the human dinner table, or battered in a techno- powered society, as suggested by the cat killed by the assembly line in Player Piano and the mutilated dog in the prologue of Jailbird. There are also wild animals, but few of them are ferocious predators. Those that most frequently appear are giraffes, turtles, rhinoceros, aardvarks, and fl amingos. The biggest animal Vonnegut favors is the chimpanzee, but they are often used as metaphors for their human cousin. It is evident that few of these animals are aggressive or dangerous. Wild animals as they are, they seldom evoke associations of violence or aggression. Instead, because of their common awkwardness and preposterousness in appearance, they are targets of human ridicule and contempt, as in the case of the giraffes in Slaughterhouse-Five and the rhinoceros in Hocus Pocus. In the wild, these animals live an innocent and free life, but in the human imagination, they become stereotypes for awkwardness and ludicrousness. The most vicious animal of Vonnegut is the snake in Slaughterhouse-Five, but Vonnegut quickly dissolves its negative association by having Edgar Derby, the only heroic character in the novel, to add, “but snakes couldn’t help being snakes […]” (SF 164), meaning what they do is out of natural instincts, not Introduction 49 malignant scheming, which bad humans do. Rhetorically, there are two kinds of animals in the Vonnegut world: the metaphorical and the real. In the metaphorical treatment of the animals, Vonnegut adopts an anti-anthropomorphic rhetoric, which Steve Baker terms as “theriomorphism”. Different from the traditional animal fables or animal stories that fi gure animals as humans, capable of speaking and reasoning, Vonnegut portrays humans in terms of animals. For example, in Slaughterhouse-Five, Billy envisions himself as a “preposterous” giraffe, and humans are referred to as “unfortunate mammals” and are compared to “bugs in amber”. In The Sirens of Titan, Rumfoord compares life of Constant and other human beings on Mars to that of farm animals. Considering that the animals Vonnegut uses are mostly those that are weak and passive, his theriomorphic treatment of humans shows the human condition of helplessness and despair. An ultimate effect of such portrayal is the deifi cation of humanity. When the animals are represented in Vonnegut’s world as real, living things, their abuse and victimization are emphasized, which reflects Vonnegut’s humane sympathy for the animals. On the one hand, he exposes human’s inhumanity through such descriptions; on the other hand, he is suggesting that nonhuman animals are also lives that deserve moral consideration. The best illustration of this humanitarian attitude is his putting the tag “so it goes” in Slaughterhouse-Five after every killing and dying of animals, germs, and small insects as well as lives of human beings. In this respect, Vonnegut is in alliance with the biocentric philosophers. Another tendency in Vonnegut’s portrayal of animals is the parallelism between humans and animals, particularly in face of violence and oppression. The train carrying prisoners of war in Slaughterhouse-Five and the migrant workers in Jailbird is compared to the cattle train; the black convicts issuing from the prison truck in Hocus Pocus remind the narrator and his wife of dumfounded stock transported to the slaughterhouse; also in Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 50 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Hocus Pocus, the boiling of lobsters alive is associated with the boiling of convicts alive in HenryⅧ’s reign of England. Such comparisons illuminate the similar fate of humans and nonhuman animals in face of domination and tyranny, breaking down the human/animal boundary. We see Vonnegut’s insight in seeing the collaboration between the discrimination within the human sphere and the discrimination of species. To be more accurate, he has incisively drawn an analogy between racism, classism, sexism, and speciesism, a shared understanding among most animal studies scholars. Vonnegut’s favorite expression is to call humans in the name of animals: human beings are “awful animals”, “impossibly conceited animals”, “animals with a big brain”, and “unlucky mammals”. Another favorite nomenclature for humans is “the Earthlings”, a name that calls to mind the humble position of the humans as ordinary planetary citizens. The tendency revealed in these epithets is to disperse the century-long hallo around man as the pinnacle of the world, defl ate the hubris and arrogance, and restore the sense of identity as a common species in the ecological world. To conclude, the animal images in Vonnegut’s fiction serve two roles: to critique and redefine humanity and to urge for the extension of humanitarian concerns to the world of nonhuman animals. Both of the two roles are integral components of Vonnegut’s humanism. B. Vonnegut’s Humanism Puzzle

As is discussed earlier, scholars and critics have reached a common understanding that Vonnegut is an adamant humanist preoccupied with the question of humanity. Humanism has become a crucial focal point for Vonnegut study. As Jerome Klinkowitz notes, “[n]o matter how evil, stupid, or inept we become as a culture or as a people, Vonnegut is there in his fi ction reminding us not to give up on the human race. […] At heart, therefore, to see Vonnegut as a humanist as well as a humorist is to see him Introduction 51 in true relation to his times and his culture” (1977: xv). However, when discussing Vonnegut’s humanism, scholars and critics fi nd it hard to pin it down. They somehow feel that the traditional discourse of humanism is inadequate for the discussion and try to search for a new language. Todd David (2006) calls it “a New Kind of Humanism”, but he fails to specify its core features. The label he comes up with—“postmodern humanism”—is rather vague and expedient, an arbitrary grafting of postmodernism and humanism. In the Chinese academia, Professor Chen Shidan (2010) also calls Vonnegut “the postmodern humanist”, but the modifier “postmodern” denotes style more than content, signifying the era and the artistic school Vonnegut belongs to rather than the kind of humanist he is. For Robert T. Tally, Jr., too, the matter of classification of Vonnegut’s humanism is a hard nut to crack. He first refers to it as a “misanthropic humanism” (2008), denoting Vonnegut’s general depiction of humans as fundamentally fl awed, petty, avaricious, and prone to acts of almost incredible cruelty. Yet later, Tally fi nds it important to acknowledge Vonnegut’s persistent sympathy for humans and his admiration for their perseverance against all the odds. For him, Galapagos is, in particular, a novel in which Vonnegut overcomes his misanthropic humanism, “not by abandoning the mis- in misanthropy but by abandoning the anthropos” (2009: 114). Therefore, the term “misanthropic humanism” cannot do justice to Vonnegut’s complex feelings for humanity either. The reason that critics feel perplexed about Vonnegut’s humanism, I think, lies in his apparent contradiction in his treatment of humanity. On the one hand, he avowedly devotes his life to “poisoning the minds of the young people with humanity”, encouraging them to work toward a better world (CKV 5). He insists in teaching them “the most ridiculous superstition of all”—the belief that “humanity is at the center of the universe, the fulfi ller or the frustrator of the grandest dreams of God Almighty” (WFG 163). On the other hand, however, he attacks vehemently mankind’s cruelty, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 52 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

stupidity, and hubris, as well as all kinds of demonstrations of “man’s inhumanity to man”, referring to humans as “awful animals”, capable of any vicious acts imaginable. He declares that “human beings are too good for life. They’ve been put in the wrong place with the wrong things to do” (CKV 226). In fi ction as well as public statements, Vonnegut expresses the idea that humans are too vicious to deserve living on. The Earth is trying to get rid of us and we should voluntarily stop reproducing. As a matter of fact, this gloomy outlook of Vonnegut is so fully and fi ercely expressed that many critics believe he is a thorough pessimist, or even worse, a nihilist, a misanthrope. This love-hate complex over humanity, the “touching ambivalence” in what he says about humankind (Reed 1972: 219), is exactly the same as the confl icting minds of many antihumanists that Tony Davies discusses. “Not only do most antihumanists, as Kate Soper has put it, ‘secrete a humanist rhetoric’ that betrays their hidden affi nity with what they deny,” he states, “they generally serve openly humanist ends of intellectual clarity and emancipation, articulated around a recognizable ethic of human capacity and need” (Davies 34). An antihumanist as Kurt Vonnegut might be to a certain degree, he is nevertheless a firm worshipper of the “religion of humanity”, that is, “mankind’s wish to improve itself” (WFG 238). “Human beings are stubborn and brave animals everywhere. They can endure amazing amounts of pain, if they have to,” he lovingly assures us (WFG 171). The purpose of his preaching humanism and attacking humanity simultaneously is to make people believe in the worth and dignity of humanity while seeing its limitations and vulnerability, so that “there might be hope for us. Human beings might stop treating each other like garbage, might begin to treasure and protect each other instead. Then it might be all right to have babies again” (WFG 163-4). Furthermore, Vonnegut has a strong conviction in the writer’s social responsibility. He asserts in the Playboy interview, “I agree with Stalin and Introduction 53

Hitler and Mussolini that the writer should serve his society. I differ with dictators as to how writers should serve. Mainly, I think they should be— and biologically have to be—agents of change. For the better, we hope” (WFG 237). He believes that writers are the alarm systems of a society, the “specialized cells”, and “the canary birds in the coal mine” who chirp and keel over when their sensory cells warn them of great danger before everybody else takes notice of it (WFG 238). “I would not be interested in writing if I didn’t feel that what I wrote was an act of good citizenship or an attempt, at any rate, to be a good citizen,” he told another interviewer (CKV 72). In light of this strong sense of social commitment, Vonnegut’s satire, ridicule, and embittered portrayal of the “earthlings” become more potent with meaning. Like his much admired progenitors Jonathan Swift and Mark Twain, Vonnegut is an earnest humanist behind the harlequin mask, “a satirist with a heart, a moralist with a whoopee cushion” (cover commentary of Fates Worse Than Death). All his antics and ridicule are efforts to tickle and shock his readers into the sharp realization of their follies and weaknesses, so that a change for the better could be possible. In the language of attack and ridicule, Vonnegut expresses his compassion for his fellow humans. C. Writing toward Ecological Humanism

Ecological humanism offers us a useful theoretical perspective to describe and interpret the odd combination of Vonnegut’s attack and advocacy of humanism. It can also serve as a juncture to link the author’s fondness of animal imagery and his peculiar stance toward humanity. First of all, ecological humanism is grounded in a critical examination of classical humanism. There is a determined denunciation of the projection of man as the center of the universe and a superior master Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 54 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

over nonhuman nature, its ensuing of Euro-centrism and the imperialist domination over non-European people, as well as the cult of reason and the hegemony of scientism. Similar attacks are everywhere in Vonnegut’s fiction. It is here that the appropriation of the science fiction devices has its best service. By the invention of Tralfamadore and Mars and by placing human activities in an interplanetary context, Vonnegut creates a distance for us to look at ourselves with better perception. Willis McNelly terms it as the “objective correlative” function of the science fiction techniques for Vonnegut and argues that, “SF […] is a help in reinventing ourselves and understanding the world better” (193). For me, this cosmic perspective constitutes Vonnegut’s conscious attempt at decentralizing and demythologizing humanity. He is to show us that, for all the rationality and inventiveness that we take superb pride in, “human beings are just one species among millions […] on a pretty but insignificant planet orbiting an unimportant star in the outskirts of an undistinguished galaxy” (Davies 132). The words are Davies’ in his discussion of the ecologically-minded antihumanists such as James Lovelock[1] and John Gray[2], but they are appropriate to describe the purpose of Vonnegut as well. As the Tralfamodorian guide enlightens Billy Pilgrim in Slaughtehouse-Five, Earthlings are not at all a favored species; they are not even the most malignant. When Billy claims that “Earthlings must be the terrors of the Universe!” and warns against the danger Earthlings poses to the Universe, “the Tralfamadorians close their little hands on their eyes”, a gesture to say he is being stupid. They tell Billy that

[1] Jame Lovelock is a British climate scientist, best known for his theory of Gaia, that the earth is a holistic, self-regulating entity, whose every part, whether animate life or inanimate matter, is mutually interrelated with every other. Lovelock believes that this ecological system will always act to maintain or restore its overall equilibrium; and if that requires the creation of conditions in which a species cannot survive, so much the worse for the species. [2] John Gray, author of Straw Dogs, believes the sojourn of humanity is no more than a minor episode in the continuing evolution of the planet and will eventually extinct long before the species that he is bent on destroying. Introduction 55 the Earthlings have nothing to do with the end of the universe. It is brought about when they experiment with new fuels for their flying saucers. So, even the belief in the human power of destruction is too much a conceit. Secondly, ecological humanism is positive humanism. Instead of a total negation that permeates most antihumanist thinking, ecological humanism aims at constructing a better future for humankind as well as all other species on the planet earth. Anthropocentrism is to be replaced by holism, to avoid any form of centrism. The world is to become a harmonious community where everyone and everything are to be treated with equal respect, where all forms of life are interrelated and interdependent. There should be no injustice or domination. Vonnegut’s persistent advocacy of the “extended family” could be understood as a metaphor for this concept. We are all descendants from the same ancestors, white or black, American or German, Oriental or Occidental, humans or non-humans. We rely on each other for warmth and life. By means of artifi cial extended families, Vonnegut hopes to combat the loneliness that people in the late-capitalist society have to deal with daily. Ecological humanism, definitely, concerns itself with the spiritual well-being of the individual as well as the organic integrity of society. Thirdly, there is an interspecies point of view. One important breakthrough eco-humanism aims at is to break down the barrier between not only people of different backgrounds, but also animals of different species, human beings as a species of animals as well. Speciesism is to be fought against along with other forms of discrimination. Vonnegut’s unique insight in this respect is amazingly profound. He never hesitates to treat human beings as one species of animals, as is evident in his favorite epithets for humans, “Earthlings” (meaning a particular group of people living on the Earth, which implies the presence of other beings on other planets) and all other animal-related names. The comparison between humans and other animals are predominant in Vonnegut’s fi ction, but unlike Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 56 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

many animal writers who are inclined to depict animals in the language of humans in the form of anthropomorphism, Vonnegut prefers to depict humans in terms of the nonhuman. This one-sided comparison is another gesture of Vonnegut’s intention of demystifi cation of human-supremacy. Last but not least, ecological humanism sets the discussion of humanity in the context of ecological crisis and aims at reevaluating human values in terms of ecological sustainability. The destruction humans have brought about is to be redeemed. Patterns of living and thinking must be remodeled. This ecological consciousness is also a feature in Vonnegut’s philosophy. In fiction as well as in his essays, he condemns humans’ destruction of the environment and believes that “most of the problems we are facing now are so stringently biological” and that “we’ve damaged the planet so severely that we’re going to be severely penalized” (CKV 210). Environmental destruction as an issue assumes more and more importance in the progression of Breakfast of Champions, Galapagos, Slapstick, and Hocus Pocus. In his last work in life, the nonfiction A Man Without a Country (2005), it becomes so predominant a theme that nobody can afford to ignore. All in all, Vonnegut’s growing ecological sensibilities enable him to see far and beyond. The themes of humanity he is preoccupied with are more and more concentrated on the ecological state of the human existence, both socially and naturally, both biologically and spiritually. To redefine humanity in the cosmological and ecological context becomes increasingly important as a theme for Vonnegut. Aligned with the antihumanists in the castigation of human hubris and in the critique of anthropocentrism, Vonnegut differs from them in his persistent desire to reform humanism and the fi rm belief in the human capacity for redemption and regeneration. The insistence that to love and serve humanity is the highest calling of writers keeps him writing until the last minute of his life. He is, in my understanding, writing toward ecological humanism. Introduction 57 Ⅳ. Structure of the Book

The book is a study of Vonnegut’s tendency for ecological humanism through decoding the animal images in his fi ction. Details from The Sirens of Titan, Slaughterhouse-Five, Breakfast of Champions, Slapstick, Hocus Pocus, and Galapagos are scrutinized in light of theories and concepts of animal studies. Some novels are examined more than once, from different perspectives. By foregrounding the animal characters in his novels, I wish to throw light to some neglected aspects of Vonnegut’s thinking, such as his ecological concerns, his affection for animals, and the impetus to blur and destabilize established boundaries in both the human society and the ecological community. In so doing, I hope, a fuller understanding of Vonnegut’s humanism can be achieved. The main body of the book consists of five parts, moving from the personal to the textual, from critique to prospects. In the first chapter, a detailed “ecological biography” of Vonnegut is presented. Instances of his life and experiences in relation to nature, animals, and the environmental movement are recounted, with a brief introduction to the American modern environmental movement as the social context, which almost concurred with Vonnegut’s rise and growth to reputation. The influences from his family and professors on Vonnegut’s understanding of the human-animal relationship are also investigated. The goal of this chapter is to discover how Vonnegut grew into a writer of strong ecological sensibility and the correlation between his writing and the ecological movement. In Chapter Two, the study is concentrated on one aspect of Vonnegut’s treatment of the human-animal relationship: meat eating. This is examined as a case of Vonnegut’s critique of humanity’s inhumanity. In Breakfast of Champions, Hocus Pocus, and Galapagos, there is a common motif of killing and eating of animals for food. Drawing heavily on contemporary reports and discussions of the condition of animal lives, particularly those Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 58 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

of farm animals, I argue that the three novels can be taken as Vonnegut’s participation in the contemporary debate over the moral standing of animals. In the drawings of hamburgers and fried chickens in Breakfast of Champions, the disapproving account of the raising of veal calves in Hocus Pocus, and the depiction of the shameless carnage of island animals in Galapagos, we see Vonnegut grow sadder and sadder, angrier and angrier for the inhumanity humans inflict upon the nonhuman animals, only for the satisfaction of the palate. On the symbolic level, similar inhumanity is also wreaked to humans, such as the experience of Harkte in Hocus Pocus, whose fate is put in implied analogy with that of the lobsters boiled alive. The critique of meat-eating then bears out the general condition of humanity and severely attacks the classic notion of humanity as civilized, autonomous, and superior being to the beasts. Chapter Three investigates the role of animal pets in Vonnegut’s fictional world. Three novels are under discussion: The Sirens of Titan, Breakfast of Champions, and Slapstick. In the first two novels, a pet is assigned to each of the leading characters: a big Mastiff to Winston Niles Rumfoord, a tailless Labrador retriever to Dwayne Hoover, and a parakeet to . Although there is no pet for Wilbur Daffodil- Ⅱ Swain, the narrator-protagonist of Slapstick, the Prologue of the novel contains repeated descriptions of the author’s intimate affection for his dogs, strongly foreshadowing themes of intimacy of the novel. All this exemplifies Vonnegut’s emphasis of the human dependence on animal companionship, which, in effect, reflects the spiritual void and utter loneliness of the postmodern human. Three types of relationship are illustrated through the analysis of the pet-human relationship: wife and husband, father and son, and brother and sister. A key issue in animal studies is the breakdown of species barriers. We can see this impulse in Vonnegut’s writing, too. Slaughterhouse-Five is such a novel. In Chapter Four, I concentrate on this masterpiece for a close Introduction 59 investigation of Vonnegut’s critique of speciesism. Two prominent images are put under scrutiny: the slaughterhouse and the zoo. Scholars have long taken for granted the images’ metaphorical and symbolical meanings, but they ignore their literal signification, as places where animals are slaughtered or exhibited, both of which are real in the novel. While Vonnegut seems to have quietly replaced the animals that are supposed to be in the slaughterhouse and the zoo with human beings, he does not erase the animal signifi eds. We see the carcasses of slaughtered animals in the meat locker where Billy survives the fi rebombing of Dresden, a literal slaughtering of humans. We see, too, in the Tralfamadore zoo how Billy is regarded as an alien species, just in the same way as we regard zoo animals as alien species. In a sense, Billy Pilgrim is twice “animalized” in the novel. The description of both experiences shows Vonnegut’s skepticism about the human supremacy and his critique of the human cruelty and irreverence in the treatment of the animals. A great number of other images are also found implicative of analogy between humans and other animals, such as the prisoner car described in allusion to the cattle car, the pain in the feet that both Roland Weary and the cart-pulling horses suffer from, the maniac torture of a dog by a sadist killer suspect of carrying rabies, etc. Together with the juxtaposition of Billy’s war experiences with his illusory travel to the Tralfamadore, I contend, these analogies expose the irrational nature of human existence and the shared helplessness of humans and animals in face of war and oppression. In this way, Vonnegut defl ates the human hubris as the “paragon of animals” and reveals the fragility and porosity of the “insuperable line” between humans and animals. With the creation of an extraterrestrial planet, hence an interplanetary perspective, he recommends a humbled species identity for humans—as the “Earthlings”. In this sense, Vonnegut is a pioneering thinker who views humans as planetary citizens. Chapter Five shows glimmers of hope in the bleak world of Vonnegut’s Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 60 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

fiction. In The Sirens of Titan and Galapagos, Vonnegut presents us a prospect of ecological integrity, by means of homecoming—return to the animal kingdom. The notion of “homecoming” and the image of “animal kingdom” in this chapter are used both symbolically and realistically. They refer to Vonnegut’s vision of the human future as a species, surviving by reestablishing their biological kinship with other species and emancipating themselves from the oppressive control of the human brain, the symbol of rationalism. The animal kingdom is not the animal world in the popular concept where the association of the jungle law is easily evoked, which in effect is stereotypical, a misunderstanding of the Darwinian theories of competition and survival, for there is actually more harmony and symbiosis than fierce battle for victory[1]. The animal kingdom in Vonnegut’s animal politics is an image of paradise, an community of ecological integration where every species live in peace and harmony with others as well as with themselves, a realization of Vonnegut’s ideal of “karass” and the extended family, not by taming other species, as in classic pastorals, but by animalizing humans. In both The Sirens of Titan and Galapagos, human characters undergo a literalized process of “becoming animals”. Boaz and Chrono choose to live with the harmonium and bluebirds respectively in The Sirens of Titan, while in Galapagos, after a million years evolution, humans eventually do away with the manipulating big brain and become joyous amphibians. While acknowledging their black humorist suggestions of human absurdity, I argue that the plots are realistically meaningful for human’s returning to the ecological community and the redefi nition of the human identity in the universe. This is indeed integral part of Vonnegut’s humanistic philosophy. In the choice of animalizing themselves and restoring their fellowship with

[1] See for detailed discussion in Mary Midgley, Animals and Why They Matter (Athens: U of Georgia P, 1983), pp. 19-32. Introduction 61 other animals, human beings finally achieve the ecological and spiritual integrity that consists in peace, contentment, and harmony with themselves as well as their environment. It is homecoming for the humankind after their long self-exile. In the Conclusion, I link up Vonnegut’s animal representation and his humanistic thinking, arguing that Vonnegut’s humanism is a new kind of humanism, with a strong indication for the ecological spiritual integrity of the human beings and their ecological obligation for the natural environment and the nonhuman animals. I also point out, though, that Vonnegut is not yet a conscious animal-right writer. Much of his concern for the animals belongs to his profound humanistic compassion for the weak and the unlucky. Given the marginal status of most animals in his works and their primarily metaphorical function for messages about humanity, we can see Vonnegut’s understanding of the necessity for an animal ethic is still in inception. Therefore, the title of my book is “toward ecological humanism”. Chapter 1

Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context

Kurt Vonnegut’s route to fame and fortune coincided with one of the most tumultuous eras in the American history. He was born in the post-WWⅠ era, came to age during the Great Depression, fought and became POW in the Second World War, and rose to popularity as a writer during the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights Movement, Women’s Liberation Movement, the Counter-culture Movement, and other political and social upheavals of the 1960s and 1970s. Whereas much attention has been directed to the correlation between Vonnegut’s literary works and the times he wrote against, little signifi cance has been attached to the infl uence of the Environmental Movement—another concurrent event in his career. It was during the same era that a great number of environmental organizations came into being, important works about environmental protection were published, and environmental laws and legal acts were issued. There was, indeed, amidst the uproar of anti-war protests, countercultural activities, and civil rights demonstrations, a growing concern among the public for the destructive effects of industrialism and consumerism on nature and the human living conditions. Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 63

The Environmental Movement had an influence on Kurt Vonnegut. Many environmental issues found expression in Vonnegut’s writing, both in his fiction and nonfiction writings, such as air and water pollution, the extinction of species, the danger of unbridled use of science and technology, overpopulation, and the debate over the moral standing of animals. As a matter of fact, there runs in Vonnegut’s writing a constant concern for the environment and the welfare of other species. Critique of science and technology is the bedrock of his politics; the planetary point of view that science-fi ction narrative modes create enables sober refl ections on the follies of humanity, and the urge to break down prejudicial boundaries, racial, sexual, class, and inter-species, constitutes a major momentum for his artistic creation. In a word, Vonnegut is a writer of much stronger ecological consciousness than most scholars have acknowledged. This ecological consciousness, as demonstrated in his readiness to address the ecological issues in his fi ction, marks the special quality of his humanism, one that transcends the boundary of humanity. Therefore, a look at the Environmental Movement as the social and cultural context and a review of Vonnegut’s life and influences from the ecological perspective are necessary for a fuller understanding of the author’s philosophy.

Ⅰ. American Modern Environmental Movement

Environmental thinking has a tradition in America that can be traced back to the 19th-century Romantic Movement. Henry David Thoreau and John Muir are generally regarded as precursors of the modern environmental movement. Their ideas about wilderness and conservation have infl uenced generations of Americans. Thoreau’s declaration that “in wildness is the preservation of the world” has been esteemed as one of the earliest expressions of wisdom in conservation, whereas the Sierra Club Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 64 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

that Muir founded in 1892 continued long after his death to take the lead in social protests against economic and industrial projects that might destroy the natural environment. Nevertheless, it was not until after 1945 that environmentalism became a nation-wide social movement (Stoll 2). Two events took place in 1945 that changed the course of human history. On July 16, a six-kilogram sphere of plutonium exploded over the New Mexico desert with a force equal to 20, 000 tons of dynamite. Its effects were felt twenty miles from the test site. Soon after, on August 6 and 9, the United States dropped two nuclear bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, killing 105, 000 people and injuring much more. The horrifying devastation of lives of human beings as well of animals and plants awakened people to the realization of the extent of the destruction that technological warfare could bring about. They became also aware how closely lives of human beings were connected with those of other creatures on earth. A new human-nature relationship based on the understanding of interconnectedness began to take shape. Its range of infl uence was expanded as well. Instead of being limited to a small number of thinkers and activists as in the past, environmental issues such as water and air pollution and other harmful side-effects of industrialism became common worries of the general public. A. Environmental Concepts, Events, Books, and Laws

During the half century following these events, environmentalism emerged in the United States as both a philosophy and a political movement. The belief was widely shared that industrial production and its consequent patterns of consumption created ecological instability that put the viability of modern society at stake. Environmentalists demanded redressing the tendency of industrial economies to waste resources, chemically poison people and landscapes, consume space in the countryside, create garbage, and increase population. They also sought to Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 65 redefi ne human society as a subset of the global environment instead of a rivalry and conqueror of the environment. Environmentalists believed that progress did not lie in the increasing wealth or industrial development, but in the knowledge and understanding of how human beings could live in harmony with other species of the biological community. The human- nature relation became ethical relations, and central environmental themes such as biological diversity, natural beauty, and sustainability came to represent an alternative vision of economics and the human good (Stoll 5). The emergence of ecology as a science in the 1960s provided necessary data for environmentalists to understand whether and how strained the earth’s life-support systems and its agricultural capacity. More importantly, with an emphasis on the biological interdependence and interconnectedness within the ecosystem, ecology helped bring to light the dependence on the one hand and destruction on the other of human activity on the natural environment, which industrialism tried to obscure. People became more aware of the consequences had on actual landscapes. An environmental movement began to take shape and gather forces. In the 1960s, protests over America’s involvement in the Vietnam War quickly absorbed other issues and became a critique of American life and politics, including attitudes toward and uses of the environment. Student movements formed to protest abuses of the environment in the same way that they had formed to resist the war. Politicians, including President John F. Kennedy and New York Mayor Lyndon Johnson, made statements against air and water pollution, so did the League of Women Voters and other women’s organizations. There was a general criticism of industrial production and the prevalence of consumerism. Many people believed that industrial society “consumed prodigiously, expanded recklessly, and alienated people from nature” (Stoll 12). With nuclear war as a very real possibility, it seemed that technological civilization would annihilate itself. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 66 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

From within this social climate, a vast array of interests coalesced as a movement that formed a subset within the counterculture of the 1960s. A number of events and publications marked the emergence of the Environmental Movement during the mid-and-late-20th century. In 1954, under the leadership of the Sierra Club, public opinions succeeded in preventing the Bureau of Reclamation from building a dam that would flood Dinosaur National Monument. This was an important victory of environmentalists in their fi ght against the pursuit of economic growth at the cost of natural environment. In 1969, two events awakened the American people to the vulnerability of the world around them. In January and February 1969, an estimated 80, 000 to 100, 000 barrels of crude oil spilled from a major oil field into the Santa Barbara Channel in Southern California, near Santa Barbara city, fouling long miles of coastline and killing thousands of sea birds and marine animals such as dolphins, elephant seals, and sea lions. On June 22, 1969, the Cuyahoga River, a seriously polluted river near the industrial city Cleveland, Ohio, caught fire due to the serious water pollution and heavy accumulation of oil-and-chemical-soaked debris on the river. The fi re was estimated to have reached heights of over fi ve stories of buildings and lasted between twenty and thirty minutes. Although this was not the most severe fi re on the river, the biggest one having occurred in 1952 which caused over $1.3 million in damage, it received the most prominent media coverage and caught massive public attention, which demonstrated the increasing eco-awareness of the general public. In Breakfast of Champions (1972), Vonnegut has his protagonist refer to this astounding event, which gives the book a note of immediate social criticism and foregrounds the theme of environmental concerns in the book. The oil spill and the fi re on the river generated vehement public outrage and led to the passage of a number of environmental laws within the following years, which formed the legal and regulatory framework for the modern Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 67

Environmental Movement in America. On April 22, 1970, the fi rst Earth Day was inaugurated in America, advocated by Senator Gaylord Nelson, who called for an environmental teach-in in the model of campus teach-ins protesting the war in Vietnam. Nelson’s idea of a decentralized, grassroots effort in which each community shaped its action around local concerns as opposed to the usual top-down approach had attracted enormous support from the general public. Twenty million people assembled in hundreds of communities across the country to participate in the demonstration. They threw big earth balls, listened to speeches from mayors and ministers, and sang songs. For the first time, environmentalism assumed the power of a mass movement and became part of the social movement that marked the 1960s and 1970s. As Nelson proclaimed while addressing the audience in Denver, the goal was “not just an environment of clean air and water and scenic beauty. The objective is an environment of decency, quality and mutual respect for all other human beings and all living creatures”[1]. In this way, the Environmental Movement entered into alliance with the Women’s Liberation Movement, Civil Rights Movement and other movements that had high on their agenda the struggle for the right of discriminated groups. Signifi cantly, Vonnegut was among the speakers on the inauguration of the fi rst Earth Day in New York. Although he did not appear to be enthusiastic about the possible effect of the environmental movement, calling it a “big, soppy pillow”, he was sure in support of the movement’s awareness-raising goals[2]. A series of important books were published during this period, lending intellectual force to the movement. The books were written by

[1] See the online essay “Earth Day: a Simple Idea, a World of Change,” on the offi cial website of “Gaylord Nelson and Earth Day” (http://www.nelsonearthday.net/nelson/earthdayidea. htm). [2] See online article: Anna Mayo, “Vonnegut and Earth Day” (April 30, 1970), on The Village Voice website (http://blogs.villagevoice.com/runninscared/2010/09/kurt_vonnegut_t.php). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 68 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

ecologists, biologists, geologists, social scientists, and anthropologists, and the issues and concepts they raised were to become the central thinking of the movement. In 1948, Fairfi eld Osborn’s Our Plundered Planet and William Vogt’s Road to Survival came out, making perceptive examination on the increasing impact of humanity on the environment from a global perspective. Vogt, for example, believed that American free enterprise was deeply flawed and should be responsible for “devastating forests, vanishing , crippled ranges, a gullied continent, and roaring fl ood crests” (qtd. in Opie 405). The next year, Aldo Leopold published A Sand County Almanac (1949), a book that was to become an important part of the intellectual foundation of modern environmentalism. In the book, Leopold put forward the famous “land ethic” and proposed the concept of biological community in which the role of humans turned from conquest to equal citizenship. The most extensive and profound infl uence came from Silent Spring (1962) by Rachel Carson, marine biologist and ecologist. Unlike earlier books about conservation and wilderness protection, Silent Spring painted the picture of the common landscapes of America, insisting that the danger of the environment existed not in remote places, but in the gardens, lawns, and neighborhoods of average Americans. Using her expertise in ecology, Carson showed the public that the danger of chemical pesticides, particularly that of DDT, did not reside only in pests, but also in humans, wildlife, soil, food, and water. As Steven Stoll points out, Carson stunned the nation with a revelation that “consumption in industrial society could erode the very fabric of life” (16). The book greatly raised the public awareness of the environmental pollution and its connection with the public health, which added enormous impetus for the environmental movement. Therefore, the book is universally regarded as the generator of the modern American Environmental Movement. Many regard the publication of the book in 1962 as the starting point of the movement. Also published during the mid-and-late-20th century was Paul Ehrlich’s The Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 69

Population Bomb (1966), Barry Commoner’s The Closing Circle: Nature, Man, and Technology (1971), Donella H. Meadows and Dennis Measows’ Limits to Growth (1972), and James Lovelock’s Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth (1979). These books dealt with the environmental issues from different perspectives and approaches, but they shared a common concern of the environmental crisis, that is, the natural world around us is not always static, passive, objective, and everlasting, that what we are doing have an effect on it and will be reacted upon by it as well, and that the modern development of the human society is destructively transforming the environment, the effect of which will in return harm ourselves. Together, these writings formed the intellectual foundations of American environmentalism and helped model popular opinions, thus enormously boosted the progress of the environmental movement. Numerous environmental laws and legal acts were passed in the milieu of the movement. In 1955, Congress passed the Air Pollution Control Act, which ushered in a series of clean-air legislation. In 1963, one year after the publication of Silent Spring, the fi rst Clean Air Act was passed, “to improve, strengthen, and accelerate programs for the prevention and abatement of air pollution” (Stoll 156). The Wilderness Act of 1964 created a National Wilderness Preservation System with 9.1 million acres. In 1965, Congress passed a series of acts concerning water quality, noise control, solid waste disposal and highway beautification. In 1969, immediately following the Santa Barbara oil spill and Guyahoga River fi re, legislature passed the National Environmental Policy Act, requiring federal agencies to integrate environmental values into their decision-making processes by considering the environmental impacts of their proposed actions and reasonable alternatives to those actions. This act helped establish the Environmental Protection Agency, which was to manage environmental risks and regulate various sanitary-specific policies. Subsequently, Clean Water Act, the Coastal Zone Management Act, the Marine Mammal Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 70 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Protection Act, and many other legal acts were passed to safeguard the natural resources and marine lives. In sum, during the period between the 1940s and 1970s, environmentalism had entered the American mainstream discourse and public awareness. There was a general concern that the mode of industrial production and the modern consumerism culture were doing harm to the natural environment as well as public health. Discontent with industrialism was widespread, along with a fear of the destructive power of science and technology, as shown in the explosion of the atomic bomb. B. Animal Welfare Movement

Among the heterogeneous subjects concerning the environment, the welfare of animals was a central concern. Although animal welfare movement came about much later in America than in Great Britain[1], the American environmental philosophers and advocates caught up quickly. They derived spiritual strength from the nation’s founding principles of freedom and democracy and drew upon the legacy of the 19th century environmental precursors such as Thoreau and Muir as well as the theories of Charles Darwin. By the late 19th century, in the wake the emancipation of black slaves after the Civil War, the idea that the humanitarian movement should be further carried out to the sphere of animals began to gain wider sympathy, paving the way for the 20th century animal liberation movement. (1831—1917), a linguist and animal psychology scholar, called into question the anthropocentric character of

[1] In Great Britain, philosophers such as Spinoza, John Ray, and Alexander Pope began discuss- ing the human-animal relationship from the perspective of pantheism as early as the 17th cen- tury. By the 18th century Jeremy Bentham, John Lawrence, and Henry Salt openly castigated cruelty to animals and compared tyranny to animals with that to human beings. Martin Act, the fi rst infl uential law forbidding cruelty to domestic animals appeared in 1822, and in 1876, Cruelty to Animals Act was passed to prevent laboratory cruelty, bringing the British animal welfare movement to a summit. In America, however, it was not until 1966 that the fi rst Ani- mal Welfare Act was passed, regulating the practice of vivisection (See Nash 1989: 20-34). Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 71

Christianity and contended that human beings were “a part and product of Nature as any other animal”, and “[the] attempt to set him up on an isolated point outside of it is philosophically false and morally pernicious” (qtd. in Nash 1989: 51). Looking back at the history of the evolution of ethics, he believed that the domain of ethics was “slowly expanding so as to comprise not only the highest species of animals, but also every sensitive embodiment of organic life” (qtd. in Nash 1989: 52). John Howard Moore (1862—1916), a Chicago high school teacher and infl uential Darwinist, also agreed that and the humanitarian laws that defi ned the human society should be applied to the human-animal relations. Encouraged by the victory of the abolition of slavery and the gains in rights for laborers and women, he anticipated the future with hope: “the same spirit of sympathy and fraternity that broke the black man’s manacles and is today melting the white woman’s chains will tomorrow emancipate the working man and the ox” (qtd. in Nash 1989: 54). With the rise of ecology as a discipline, concepts of the “web of life”, “food chain”, “biotic community”, “ecosystem”, and “ecological niche” came into being and became established, expressing a new belief that all organisms in the ecological system were interrelated and interdependent, that an organism did not exist to help or hinder humans but to perform a role that their characteristics necessitated, and that the relationship between human beings with other species was that of biotic interdependence and equal membership instead of mastery and conquest. The introduction of Albert Schweitzer’s philosophy of “Reverence for Life” into America in the 1920s and 1930s reinforced the ecologists’ concept of biotic community, interdependence, and the necessity of moral extension. Schweitzer made it clear that his reverence for life did not end with human beings. In his eyes, “a man is ethical only when life, as such, is sacred to him, that of plants and animals as that of his fellow men” (qtd. in Nash 1989: 61). He argued that in the process of living, one did on occasion kill other forms of life, animals or plants, but this should happen only when it was absolutely Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 72 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

necessary to enhance another life and then only with a compassionate sense of “responsibility for the life which is sacrifi ced” (qtd. in Nash 1989: 61). In a 1935 essay, he called for “making kindness to animals an ethical demand, on exactly the same footing as kindness to human beings” (qtd. in Nash 1989: 61). For Schweitzer, the powerful and privileged status humans enjoyed in the natural community entailed not a right to exploit but a responsibility to protect. The award of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1952 enhanced the expansion of Schweitzer’s reputation and influence. It also encouraged the growth of animal welfare concerns in America. Ten years later, Rachel Carson dedicated her epoch-making book Silent Spring to Schweitzer. Both Aldo Leopold (1949) and Rachel Carson (1962) had made great contribution to the popularization of the ideas that all natural organisms had a right to continue living and that the human effort to adjust the natural world to his needs would eventually lead to the destruction of both the environment and humanity itself. Although, as Nash points out, they both compromised in their emphasis of the effects on human well-being in their argument in order to get a hearing in a time when people were more intent on economic development and industrial progress than anything else, there was defi nite critique of anthropocentrism in the “land ethic” and the plea for moral concerns for all organism. Besides them, Joseph Wood Krutch (1956), Rene Dubos (1972), David Ehrenfeld (1978), and Edward Wilson (1984) were all important scientists and thinkers that helped established the notions that “the wanton killing of an animal differs from the wanton killing of a human being only in degree” (Krutch 153), that other organisms, such as germs, were fellow travellers of humans in the evolutionary process and were entitled to continuing passage on the planet (Dubos), that the human biophilia was an evolutionary mechanism that was essential for the psychological survival of the human species (Wilson), and that the root of the modern environmental crisis is the “arrogance of humanity” Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 73

(Ehrenfeld). All these thinkers had made their share in the construction of fundamental principles in environmental ethics at large and animal ethics in particular. The publication of Peter Singer’s Animal Liberation in 1975 was particularly responsible for the inauguration of a movement that had animal welfare as the central agenda. It drew public attention to two particular cases of animal maltreatment: animal factories and animal experiments, two examples of what he named as “speciesism”. Enumerating examples and data of horrifying cruelty humans daily infl icted on animals on the farm factory and in the laboratory, Singer made it unavoidable for readers to face and consider the tyranny of humans over nonhuman animals. As a matter of fact, a large number of celebrities of the time became aligned with the animal welfare movement, including Jack London, Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Gertrude Stein, Albert Schweitzer, and President Warren Harding and Calvin Coolidge (Beers 93). This marked the entry of animal welfare thinking into the mainstream culture. In the fi eld of legislation, a series of laws concerning the welfare of animals were passed during this period, including the Humane Slaughter Act (1958, 1966), the Laboratory Animal Welfare Act (1966, 1970), the Animals Welfare Act (1966), the Endangered Species Act (1966, 1969, 1973), and the Marine Mammal Protection Act (1972) (Beers 154). To put it in a nutshell, the social and intellectual climate of the mid- and-late-20th century in America was such that it was hard for people not to notice the environmental issues and issues about animal welfare. Joining hands with the youth Countercultural Movement and anti-war protests, Environmental Movement had become an important part on the national political agenda as well as in social life. Ecological ideas such as the web of life, interconnectedness, interdependence, ecosystem, biotic community, and the extension of ethical concerns, seeped slowly but surely into the public consciousness. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 74 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

It is against such a context that Kurt Vonnegut came into age and grew into a writer of warm, humanitarian compassion for the weak and wretched. The infl uence of the ecological background is easily discernible in his writings, such as the depiction of a postmodern ecological wasteland in Breakfast of Champions, the vehement attack of science and technology running amok in Player Piano and Cat’s Cradle, and the whimsical but persistent belief that the germs are going to take over the world, a recurrent motif to be found in Hocus Pocus, Slapstick, Breakfast of Champions, and many others. The images of zoo animals and farm animals are frequent metaphors for the wretched situation of characters, as in The Sirens of Titan, Hocus Pocus, Jailbird, and Slaughterhouse-Five, which, on the other hand, reflects Vonnegut’s awareness of the utter miserable animal condition. As was said earlier, profound humanitarian concerns for the environment and the welfare of other species constitute a major theme in Vonnegut’s writing. This concern, of course, has also much to do with the way he grew up and the infl uences he received, particularly when he was young.

Ⅱ. An Ecological View of Vonnegut: Life and Infl uences

A. Life

Kurt Vonnegut was born in Indianapolis, Indiana, on November 11, 1922. His parents were both German descendants from well-off German immigrants who made their fortune and reputation in Midwestern America since the early 19th century. The clan of Vonnegut was composed of men of intellect, cultivation, good sense, and social dedication. Kurt Vonnegut’s father and grandfather were both renowned architects, a fact that Vonnegut took great pride in. On the mother’s side, fortune and wealth were the Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 75 chief story. The family was the owner of the most successful brewery in Indianapolis before the Prohibition, making enough money to support an extravagant upper-class life for three generations. As a result, his mother developed a delicate taste and insisted on an aristocratic style of living. As Kurt Vonnegut remarked later, “My mother was addicted to being rich, to servants and unlimited charge accounts, to giving lavish dinner parties, to taking frequent fi rst-class trips to Europe” (Shields 22). Consequently, she was distant to her children, thinking it was the task of the maid or housekeeper to take care of them. Since little, Kurt Vonnegut was in search of a motherly figure and craved for affection. Such desires were mostly fulfi lled by his sister Alice, who was only fi ve years older, and Ida Young, the black family cook and housekeeper. The parents lived an easy and luxurious life in the fi rst years of their marriage and squandered most of their inherited money. When the Great Depression overtook the country in 1929, the family suffered a sudden drop of living standards and a “precipitous fall in society”, which was humiliation to Edith Vonnegut the mother and led to her mental depression and eventual suicide. Kurt Vonnegut had a brother and a sister, both of whom received upper-class private education because they came in the prime of their parents’ life. Bernard the brother showed much talent in science at an early age and was the apple of the eye to his parents, which became a source of jealousy for Kurt. Bernard later became an MIT graduate and a leading scientist in General Electric. He created quite a sensation when he and his colleagues succeeded in manufacturing moisture in the atmosphere to the effect of snowfall. The sense of sibling competition for Kurt with Bernard lasted most of his life, which later evolved in Kurt’s life into a battle between art and science. While Bernard considered art primarily ornamental and useless, Kurt spent most of his life trying to prove that art was the family tradition (the first ancestor of the Vonneguts was a writer of a kind, describing the wilderness of America in the early years of Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 76 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

settlement; his architect grandfather and father were both well attuned to art), and that science and technology, if let go unbridled, could bring doom to the human race as well as the entire universe. Alice the sister served as the little mummy for young Kurt and the emotional support for their father later when their mother went basically insane after the family’s financial downfall. In personality, Alice was peculiar. She possessed “considerable gifts as a painter and sculptor”, but to the dismay of her father and her brother, she “did next to nothing” with her gifts. She was oftentimes quoted as saying, “Just because people have talent, that doesn’t mean they have to do something with it” (FWTD 37). Alice married to an equally impractical man, Jim Adams, who “majored in fun” (Shields 52) and dreamed of making big money by selling inventions of his own. Poor as their life was, it was a loving family, with children running around in a house filled with chickens and dogs and birds. However, tragedy struck in 1958. Jim was killed in a train crash and Alice, already confi ned in hospital for cancer, died the night she heard the news. The four boys of theirs were orphaned within 48 hours. Kurt Vonnegut adopted three of them, in spite of the fact that he had already three children to provide for. Due to the financial downfall of the family, Kurt Vonnegut did not get the kind of upper-class education that his older siblings received, but he found what he liked in Shortridge High School—writing. He fared well as an editor for the school newspaper, The Shortridge Daily Echo, one of the only two high-school dailies of the country at the time (PS 62). He would have succeeded in getting a job as a journalist for Indianapolis Star if Bernard had not intervened. The then MIT graduate student in physics told him to do something more practical than becoming “daubers in art”. At that time in America, “the laurels would go to scientists, technicians, the practitioners of the practical arts”. As a result, Kurt Vonnegut ended up in Cornell, majoring in biology and chemistry (Shields 34-5). Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 77

As Vonnegut admitted later, in Cornell “I was in a real mess” (Shields 35). He fl unked most of the science courses, chemistry, physics, math, and biology. “I had actually twice fl unked a course whose purpose is to exclude people like me from careers as scientists, which is thermodynamics,” said Vonnegut in a 1994 speech. In spite of his detest of the subjects, the college training did help him obtain a familiarity with technology that would enable him to write about science and technology “with a fair amount of expertness”. Vonnegut later contended that all writers should learn more about science because they need it to respond to their times and environment more reasonably, and “it’s such an interesting part of their environment” (CKV 112, 120). In contrast to his poor performance in the science subjects, Vonnegut found satisfaction in writing and became a popular editor for the university paper, the Cornell Daily Sun, the oldest independent college daily in the United States. Still, as he failed in too many courses, he dropped out in January 1943. After that, he decided to enlist for the army, ready to fi ght in WWⅡ. He had been hard-headed against the war and wrote editorials for the Sun in support of isolationism, thinking that this is the only reasonable response to Hitler and America should not rush to arms. But when Japanese struck Pearl Harbor in January 1943, he began to think that it was “clearly a war that had to be fought and there are very few of those in history. It was worth fi ghting” (Shields 48). His parents were ashamed of the decision. To his father, his son’s becoming a common foot soldier with a backpack and a rifl e was low and incommensurate to his education and family background. For his fragile mother, “the prospect of losing her son in the impending holocaust made her cup of troubles overflow” (PS 55). Before leaving for the European battlefi eld, Vonnegut surprised his folks by arriving home on a three-day pass, spit-and-polished in his uniform. However, on Mother’s Day, his last day of leave, he and his sister found their mother dead in bed from an Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 78 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

overdose of sleeping pills. What happened afterwards is well-known, as it led to his famous novel, Slaughterhouse-Five. He was shipped to Europe and put to the front. The fi rst battle that he entered was the Battle of the Bugle, in December 1944. It turned out to be also his last—the battle was the last victory on the German side and the biggest defeat the American armies had ever experienced in history (PS 87). Vonnegut and his fellow soldiers were captured and sent to Dresden, where they were made to work as laborers. On the night of February 13, 1945, the British and American air forces operated the fi rebombing on Dresden. 135,000 people were killed in two hours. The beautiful city, the “Florence on the Elbe”, was burned down overnight. “It was a terrible thing for the son of an architect to see,” Vonnegut later said of the experience (CKV 12). He and other POWs survived the disaster only by hiding two stories below the ground in the meat locker of the slaughterhouse where they were housed. The next day, they were made to evacuate all the corpses. This traumatic experience became a lasting influence and the framing story throughout Vonnegut’s writing career. After the war, he got married and was enrolled in the University of Chicago on the GI Bill, in anthropology, which, to his pleasure, was “a science that was mostly poetry” (Shields 87). The study of cultural anthropology opened his mind and enabled him to see different people and cultures in an equal and connected way. He also derived the idea of “folk society” there, upon which he later developed his theory of “artifi cial extended families”. Unfortunately, however, because of the untimely arrival of their fi rst baby, he had to quit in 1947 after conscientious efforts failed in finishing his thesis. He wouldn’t get his MA diploma until his fi fth novel, Cat’s Cradle (1963), was published. With the infl uence of his brother, he got a position as the public relations man with the General Electric Corporation in Schenectady, New York, to report on his brother’s Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 79 successful experiment. Although he later found this job constraining, the experience with one of the largest companies in the country gave Vonnegut a valuable glimpse into the operations of big businesses and the power of science and technology. His first novel, Player Piano, was expressly modeled on General Electric. Vonnegut’s first short story, “Report on the Barnhouse Effect”, was published in February, 1949, in Collier’s magazine. It turned out to be very well paid ($750, two-month pay at GE). So after a couple of more short stories got published, at the end of 1950, Kurt Vonnegut quitted his job at General Electric and moved to Cape Cod, where he lived as a freelance writer. This became the beginning of his long and hard journey in search of recognition, as described earlier in this book.

We learn of Vonnegut’s life and experiences from a number of sources: scattered autobiography in the “introduction”, “prologue”, “editor’s note” or first chapters of his novels; autobiographical essays in the non- fi ction collections; biographies, interviews and conversations. But although some facts about his life are heavily dwelt upon, such as the suicide of his mother on Mother’s Day before he was going to the European battlefi eld, his captivity in Germany after the defeat of the Battle of the Bulge, and, most of all, the experience of the Dresden fi rebombing, but some aspects of his life remained blind spots. For example, how did he grow up as a young child, particularly during the Great Depression? All the narratives about his early life are sketchy in comparison to the substantiality of other periods. In a letter he wrote to the headmaster of a school that banned Slaughterhouse-Five, he talked of the period saying that he “did a lot of farm work as a boy” (PS 5), as a proof that he, as a writer, is real, robust, healthy, and down to earth. But we know no detail about this experience. In his 500-odd-page biography, the only complete life story of Kurt Vonnegut, Charles J. Shields does not bring much light to such dimmed spots either. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 80 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Such lacking is conspicuous with Vonnegut’s “animal experiences”. Probably due to the lack of perspective and critical interest, as is always the case in studies concerning the ecological outlook of authors, we found very scarce accounts about Vonnegut’s experience with animals, especially in his formative years. However, this does not mean Vonnegut had no interest in animals. Charles J. Shields mentions one thing in the biography which verifies the belief that Kurt Vonnegut likes animals since young. When choosing courses for freshman science at Shortridge High School, the biographer relates, “he wanted to enroll in zoology because he liked animals” (29). In a review of Galapagos, Peter J. Reed observes quite emphatically that Vonnegut “has always had a warm heart for animals”. He cites an example in parentheses that “in his high school writing he borrowed the nom de plume ‘Ferdy’ from that wonderful children’s book, ‘Ferninand and the Bull’” (1990: 63). In the introduction to his conversation with Vonnegut, Robert Taylor gives a description of the setting where the Vonneguts were living: It is a white-and-gray Barnstable farmhouse. “In the darkness of the eaves scuffl e barn swallows.” He quotes Mrs. Vonnegut as saying: “We built the barn for them, really” (CKV 7). He then gives special attention to the birds that say “Poo-tee-weet” in the stillness of the summer day: “Vonnegut, who knows bird language, has reproduced this phonetic in his fi ction, something that has meaning when human language fails” (CKV 7-8). Other evidences of Vonnegut’s love for animals can be found in the authorial introductions to his novels. For instance, in Slapstick, he describes his love for dogs:

Also: I cannot distinguish between the love I have for people and the love I have for dogs. When a child, and not watching comedians on fi lms or listening to comedians on the radio, I used to spend a lot of time rolling around on rugs with uncritically affectionate dogs we had. (SS 2-3) Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 81

Vonnegut’s attachment to animals also bears out in the fact that in most of his novels, at least one of the characters—sometimes the leading character, sometimes a minor one—is assigned a dog as companion. Rumfoord in The Sirens of Titan, Dwayne in Breakfast of Champions, and Selena in Galapagos are all such examples. In Slaughterhouse-Five, to illustrate the loneliness of Billy Pilgrim in spite of his postwar comforts and riches, the narrator says, “There wasn’t a dog, either.” Quickly but in a separate paragraph, he continues, “There used to be a dog named Spot, but he died. So it goes. Billy had liked Spot a lot, and Spot had liked him” (SF 62). The sadness for losing the dog friend is apparent. There are also indications of his affection for animals in his public statements. For example, when discussing the merits and demerits of Ernest Hemingway, he remarks, “I hate his killing big animals—it seemed so unnecessary” (CKV 275). Besides, self-mocking as he is, he always compares himself to animals. For instance, in the opening chapter of Fates Worse Than Death, he remarks, “Here we go again with real life and opinions made to look like one big, preposterous animal not unlike an invention by Dr. Seuss, the great writer and illustrator of children’s books, like an oobleck or a grinch or a lorax, or like a sneech[1] perhaps” (FWTD 19). As he does with Billy Pilgrim and many other characters, Vonnegut presents himself as one of those awkward and preposterous animals. There are also concrete clues in his life. When Vonnegut was of school age, his parents sent him, like his brother and sister before him, to the Orchard School, a private progressive school. The school was operated on the educational theorist ’s belief that students should be

[1] These are animal images in Dr. Seuss’ books. They all look strange and bizarre, unlike any of the real animals. Signifi cantly, Dr. Seuss (original name Theodor Seuss Geisel, renowned writer of children’s books and illustrator) became an “unlikely spokesman” of environmental- ism in the 1970s in his creation of a character, “the Lorax”, who speaks for the trees in oppo- sition to the Once-ler, a personifi cation of economic growth who is bent on cutting down all the trees. It is obvious that the readers are asked to identify with the odd creature instead of the immoral woodcutter ( Stoll 19-20). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 82 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

a little community of doers. There were a lot of hands-on activities for the children. Vonnegut loved it there. He had responsibilities and others depended on him. “He joined with classmates in caring for Billy the goat; running the school library; operating the goodies store; even managing a student savings bank.” Watching over them was a teacher and naturalist, who eventually became the school headmaster, Hillis L. Howie. He was a benevolent man who cultivated in the children individual abilities and respect for self and others. He believed as Aristotle wrote, “For the things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing them.” So the children built whirligigs while they were studying weather, model ships when the subject was exploration, and planted a garden, which they harvested in the fall, putting fresh vegetables out for lunch they had raised themselves[1]. In the summer of 1938, when he was about to begin his junior year at Shortridge High School, Vonnegut had another experience with Hillis Howie which turned out to be a life-changing infl uence. He joined Hillis Howie’s nine-week prairie camping trip to the American West. It was a hard trek into the wilderness. Howie deliberately “sought out the remote and generally unknown wilderness regions”, as he said,

Sometimes we pretended that we were the first white men to penetrate these wilds. In many spots, the boys had an opportunity to compare the unspoiled land with country that had been ‘developed.’ We led a simple life, did our own cooking, gathered firewood, sagebrush or buffalo chips for fuel and slept under the stars almost every night. We were providing a pioneer experience for the boys in a frontier part of the nation. (qtd. in Shield, “Prairie Adventure”)

In a 1987 interview with Hank Nuwer, Vonnegut recounted this

[1] Charles J. Shields, “Kurt Vonnegut’s Prairie Adventure”, (http://www.bigworldmagazine. com/kurt-vonneguts-prairie-adventure). Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 83 experience in great detail and with deep affection:

We had a truck and three station wagons, and we traveled all over the West. We had specific missions from the Field Museum in Chicago. I was a mammalogist, for instance, and I put trap lines out every night. In fact, when I went out, which was about 1938, I caught a subspecies of the tawny whitefoot mouse which had not been seen before, and presumably its pelt is at the Field Museum if anyone wants to look at it. When I was in the army telling someone about this, he immediately named it Meesis Vonnegeesis. (CKV 252-3)

The expedition was an unforgettable experience of adventure, inspiration, and self-discovery for a boy at the tender age. Shields thus describes his excitement:

Away from the pall of his home life where his parents sometimes quarreled late into the night, and away from his brother’s talk about science that “bored the shit” out of him, Kurt came into his own. He mounted an outcropping of rock and, pounding his skinny ribcage, let out a Tarzan yell that drew shouts of admiring laughter from the other boys. He was just like them—he belonged. (“Prairie Adventure”)

Commenting on Howie in his later years, Vonnegut remarked, “It took me a long time to realize what a great man Hollis Hillie was. That’s part of the American experience to suddenly come across a truly great person who never becomes rich or famous, but who is enormously benefi cial just to those near him. Hillis Howie was such a person, a great naturalist, very kind and strong with boys” (CKV 252). The infl uence was more than just the love for animals and the desire to explore the secrets of life. It was about worldview. As Vonnegut refl ects affectionately: Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 84 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

The value system under which I try to operate relative to animals and plants and the earth and persons with cultures different from mine is one I learned from him. There are thousands of us who were lucky enough to come under his infl uence, and my guess is that we are more at home on this planet, and more respectful of it, than most of our neighbors are. (Shields 2011:15)

It is small wonder then that Vonnegut dedicated Galapagos, his fourteenth novel and one he would grade A+ (CKV 259), to Hillis Howie. He also created a character in the model of this beloved teacher, Mary Hepburn, the high school teacher who plays the role of “Mother Nature Personifi ed” in the survival and propagation of the human race isolated on the Galapagos Islands. For Vonnegut, the wilderness trek in the summer of 1938 was an experience of rebirth. Hillis Howie, like Mary Hepburn, was the middle wife who brought into the world his new life. Every summer, the Vonneguts went to their summer resort at Lake Maxinkuckee (spelt by Vonnegut as “Maxincuckee”). It was a large body of pure water surrounded by forests of oak, beech, and maple. Every summer the Vonneguts and their relatives enjoyed sunshine, bathing, swimming, rowing, reading by the evening campfi re, and family games. It was also a great occasion for refreshing their German legacy. It was there that young Kurt, Jr. no longer felt neglected and lonely. On the contrary, he basked in the warm feelings of affection and belonging. The feeling was so precious for him that when he married, he arranged his honeymoon visit to the Lake. “Kurt wanted his bride to see it with him”, although their summer cottage was already sold before they went there. Many years later, the memory could still bring back sweetness and warmth. “[…] everything about that lake was imprinted on my mind when it was so little and was so eager for information, it will be my lake as long as I live” (FWTD 50). Time and again, Vonnegut claimed that Lake Maxinkuckee was “an enchanted body of water to me,” it was “my Aegean Sea” (Shields 23). Like the oceans Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 85 to Herman Melville and the Maine forests to Nathaniel Hawthorne, Lake Maxinkuckee was the spiritual sanctuary for Kurt Vonnegut. He needed to constantly look back to feel at home. It was a defi ning experience that shaped his “understanding of time and space and […] destiny” (FWTD 50). As he said in Fates Worse Than Death,

No matter where I am, and even if I have no clear idea where I am, and no matter how much trouble I may be in, I can achieve a blank and shining serenity if only I can reach the very edge of a natural body of water. […] This is because I made my fi rst mental maps of the world, in the summertime when I was a little child, on the shores of Lake Maxincuckee […]. (49)

Apart from the family gathering, the lake, with its unique geography and the open, sunny, refreshing natural scenery must have contributed to this profound and lasting effect. With this knowledge, we can understand why in two of his most sentimental and romantic novels, The Sirens of the Titan and Galapagos, the happiest time of his characters is spent by the water: in the former, it is exactly a lake, while in the latter, it is the deep blue sea. In sharp contrast to the lake experience, the experience in Dresden had traumatic effects on Vonnegut, who was then only twenty-one. Together with the appalling sight of dead bodies killed during the firebomb, Vonnegut encountered the miserable scene of a host of maimed zoo animals. Shields gives a description to this encounter:

They passed the corpse of a boy with his burned dog at the end of a leach; bodies of children dressed in party clothes; blackened drivers slumped at the wheels of their cars; couples who had leaped into fountains for safety and plunged into boiling water instead. The Dresden zoo, blown open by direct hits, had released its ark of animals into the wild. The men spotted a llama mounting slopes of Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 86 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

debris. Exotic birds, with no trees to sit in, preened themselves on twisted iron railings. A chimpanzee, once popular with children, sat alone without hands. (2011: 73)

Vonnegut also talks about the Dresden zoo in Fates Worse Than Death. In Chapter Eleven, he recounts how a stranger gave him a document from a “Bomber’s Baedeker” from World War Ⅱ, because he wanted Vonnegut to feel confirmed that “Dresden was no more a military target than Kalamazoo, Michigan, is today” and that bombers did have the freedom to decide where to drop the bombs if there were extra ones. Vonnegut says, “There was a zoo in Dresden for the entertainment of potential soldiers and nurses. The Baedeker for Bombers missed that one, but the bombs didn’t. You should have seen the giraffe after the fi restorm. (I did)” (108). Sparse as the description is, the suffering, fear, and bewilderment the animals must have felt are not hard to imagine. The barbarity of the war refl ected in the fate of animals must have registered deep in the mind of the future writer, so that whenever he writes of destructive forces, he never forgets to give special attention to their impact on animals. In his creation of the Tralfamadore zoo in Slaughterhouse-Five, although the zoo animals are not present, Vonnegut might as well have the maimed and lost animals in mind. The next thing we know of Vonnegut to be in connection with the environmental movement is his speech on the fi rst Earth Day demonstration in New York, 1970. Slaughterhouse-Five was published one year before, protests against the Vietnam War were raging all over the country, and Vonnegut was still radiant in the aura as the author of a famous book and the spokesman for anti-war protests. His invitation to the demonstration was not surprising. Vonnegut did not seem to be optimistic about the environmental movement. When asked whether the environmental movement was a granfalloon or karass, two terms he coined in Cat’s Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 87

Cradle[1], he answered in favor of the former. “It’s a big soppy pillow,” he said, “nobody is going to do anything.”[2] But this was more an expression of his indignation at the bigot insistence of the government on the war in Vietnam than of indifference to the cause of environmental protection. In the speech, he taught people to be able to endure pain, just like the protagonist in Sirens of the Titan who is challenged to put up with shocks sent to the antennae fixed in his brain whenever he starts to think about anything serious and meaningful. The thinking of environmental protection will cause a lot of pain, Vonnegut seemed to be telling his audience, since it is against the wills and interests of the government and big enterprises, but it is pain worth bearing. After that, we hear Vonnegut talk more openly and directly about issues about environmental pollution, extinction of species, overpopulation, and destructive effects of science and technology on the environment. Published two years after the fi rst Earth Day, Breakfast of Champions was heavily loaded with criticism of human destruction of the environment. In a large number of essays and interviews, he talks of conservationism, of Schweitzer, and of Rachel Carson. In the essays he wrote in his late years, such as Fates Worse Than Death and A Man Without a Country, eco- thinking has defi nitely become a predominant theme. The last thing we saw him with animals is a pathetic report from a neighbor. “One day, during a thunderstorm, his neighbor saw Vonnegut taking the little Lhasa apso for a walk. He followed behind, holding out an umbrella at arm’s length to keep the dog dry as she skipped about his feet, while the rain poured down on him instead” (Shields 2011: 409).

[1] Both are coinages of Vonnegut. A “granfalloon” is a false and meaningless association of people. The Daughters of the American Revolution, citizens of a nation, General Electric, and All-Persons-Under-30 are the examples of granfalloons. A karass, on the other hand, is a true connection among persons meant to be with one another. [2] Anna Mayo, “Vonnegut and the Earth Day”, April 30, 1970, on The Village Voice website (http://blogs.villagevoice.com/runninscared/2010/09/kurt_vonnegut_t.php). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 88 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

An old man in his late seventies and troubled by the mess of an unhappy second marriage, Vonnegut hang on to his little dog, just like many of his characters. B. Infl uences

The people that had the greatest influence on Kurt Vonnegut in his love for animals and his concepts about human-animal relationship include his sister, his father, and some teachers. Alice Vonnegut, fi ve years older, was Kurt’s closest companion growing up, his sympathetic partner, and the source of artistic inspiration. Vonnegut later candidly acknowledged that when he wrote, he had in his mind his sister as the reader: “[…] she was the person I had always written for. She was the secret of whatever artistic unity I had ever achieved. She was the secret of my technique” (SS 15). The death of Alice in 1958 at the age of forty-one “probably impressed me more than anything else” (CKV 205). Slapstick, or Lonesome No More is claimed to be written in her memory, in which the poignant agony of separation between the dizygotic twin brother and sister is portrayed with irresistible force. When little, Alice could be sentimental about animals in the extreme. “The sight of a truck on the highway carrying chickens on their way to market sent her into hysterics, and only her parents’ assurances that those chickens were on their way to a new farm could calm her down” (Shields 12). Because she hated hunting so much, both Kurt and his father gave up the hobby, enormously ashamed of it (T 42). When he grew up and became a famous writer, Vonnegut was heard criticize Hemingway for his big- game hunting, citing Vance Bourjarly, “The bigger the game, the more corrupted the soul of the hunter” (FWTD 62). In her married life, Alice clung to this sentiment for animals. She “adored children and animals, and decorated the walls of her home with stencils of flowers and birds. […] Inside the Adams residence, exotic birds fl apped through the rooms above Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 89 the heads of Jim, Jr., eleven; Steve, nine; and the youngest, Kurt, six, who was nicknamed ‘Tiger’ because of the way he cried lustily as a baby” (Shields 141-2). Similarly, in Vonnegut’s own house in Barnstable at Cape Cod, barn swallows scuffl ed in the darkness of the eaves (CKV 7). The scenes can easily remind us of Jailbird in which a throng of bright yellow birds fl y inside of the crown of Chrysler Building. Vonnegut talked about his sister’s peculiarity about animals on many an occasion. When asked by an interviewer what his sister’s dream was, he answered, “She wanted to live like a member of The Swiss Family Robinson[1], with impossibly friendly animals in impossibly congenial isolation” (PS 97). What is significant is that Kurt Vonnegut never felt embarrassed about this peculiarity of his sister. Instead, he seemed to take great pride in it. In his own writing and interviews he talked of the choice of one nephew, the oldest son of his sister, with fondness and admiration. Jim Adams, the nephew, became a goat farmer on a mountain top in Jamaica “[t]o live far from the madness of cities, with animals for friends” (SS 15), “for the past eight years. No telephone. No electricity” (PS 97). The note of admiration is evident. As a matter of fact, we see this yearning for a life free of modern civilization in the leading character of Player Piano. In this novel, Dr. Paul Proteus, a brilliant young manager of the Works and son of an extremely wealthy and infl uential entrepreneur, makes up his mind to give up everything and live a Thoreauvian life of simplicity. However, as it turns out in the novel, it is only a dream to be easily crushed amidst the suffocating, dehumanizing powers of industrialism and technocracy. The father’s influence in the aspect of animal love came not as

[1] A novel written by Johann David Wyss, fi rst published in 1812, about a Swiss family ship- wrecked in the East Indies en route to Port Jackson, Australia. The story emphasizes how the family survives the storm and shipwreck and manages a living on an isolated island. They live with a lot of animals, both livestock and pets on the ship and wild animals they found on the island. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 90 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

prominent, but he taught Vonnegut to look at the world with an open mind and to live as a “planetary citizen”. Kurt Vonnegut, Sr. was a dignified architect whose talent was not given suffi cient opportunity to demonstrate, particularly during and after the Great Depression. He had no commissions for twenty years. To his son, he was like a Sleeping Beauty waiting for the prince to bring her back to life, which, unfortunately, never happened after the Depression (FWTD 24). He became quiet and subdued, “a dreamy artist and a good one”, who “found the real world ugly” and had no interest in it (CKV 227). But he never gave up his aspiration for beauty. In Fates Worse Than Death, Vonnegut the writer describes the uniqueness of his father. When in the Depression all other fathers were “speaking gloomily of coal and iron and grain and lumber and cement and so on”, his father “was urging friends and startled stranger alike to pay attention to some object close at hand, whether natural or manmade, and to celebrate it as a masterpiece”. When Vonnegut and his friends brought him a moth to see what sort of moth it was, “[h]e said that he did not know its name, but that we could all agree wholeheartedly on this much: that it was a masterpiece” (FWTD 25). The son and writer recalled this uniqueness with perfect pride,

And he was the fi rst planetary citizen my new friends had ever seen, and possibly the last one, too. He was no more a respecter of politics and national boundaries than (that image again) a unicorn. Beauty could be found or created anywhere on this planet, and that was that. (FWTD 25)

How much this infl uenced Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.’s thinking is hard to tell, but we can see defi nitely its infl uence in the writer’s disregard of national and ethnical boundaries in his fiction and philosophy. Slaughterhouse- Five is not so much a work that criticizes Nazism as one that attacks the senseless slaughter on both sides of the war, and, in extension, slaughter of lives of any kind. Vonnegut uses exactly the word “planetary” when Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 91 talking about the destruction the fi rebombing brought to Dresden: “Every great city is a world treasure, not a national treasure. So the destruction of any of them is a planetary catastrophe” (FWTD 30). In Mother Night, more typically, he creates a hero who is so obsessed with his role as a dramatist that he turns politically absent-minded and uncommitted. The double agent identity he is given seems to suit him equally well with the Americans and the Germans, which understandably causes him great trouble. In most cases, though, this planetary perspective works positively in Vonnegut’s fiction, as in the detached observation of the Earthlings’ follies from an extraterrestrial visitor, and in the bold transgression of established boundaries. Similar infl uence came from teachers. Mr. Hillis Howie was defi nitely one of the most important. His encouragement of first-hand experiences with the natural world and the teachings of respect for other beings in spite of their difference had planted the early seeds in Vonnegut’s heart that would by and by grow into the most magnanimous humanitarianism. Another major source of influence was Dr. Robert Redfield at the University of Chicago. It was from this professor that Kurt Vonnegut acquired the idea of the “folk society”. According to Dr. Redfield, a renowned professor in the field of cultural anthropology, the prevailing opinion needed reexamination that there was no common ladder that all societies evolved through. For him, all societies would pass through one inevitable stage, which he called the “folk society”. It was an isolated but organic community in which “bonds of kinship crisscrossed every which way”. People in such a community share “such general agreement as to what life was all about and how people should behave in every conceivable situation that very little was debatable” (FWTD 122-3). The ideal folk society was “small, homogeneous, respectful of sacred rituals, and held together by strong primary personal relations.” According to Dr. Redfi eld, folk societies could exist both in primitive societies and big cities, “because Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 92 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

the members of the folk society have a strong sense of belonging together” (Shields 88-89). Vonnegut was fascinated with the idea. Even though he knew Dr. Redfield warned against being sentimental about life in Folk Societies, “I still fi nd myself daydreaming of an isolated little gang of like- minded people in a temperate climate, in a clearing in a woodland near a lake […]” (FWTD 123). He admitted that it was “my undying fantasy that I would be a contented person if only I could become a member of a Folk Society. That is my Holy Grail” (FWTD 124). It happened that Vonnegut’s son, , actually experimented with the idea and set up such a commune in his college years, living with his “fl ower children friends” in a farm isolated by a big river in British Columbia, “a farm in the wilderness”. As Mark ended up in a schizophrenic breakdown there, which was later successfully cured, Kurt Vonnegut mockingly referred to this horrible experience as “a case of a son’s making his father’s impractical dream come true”, and added immediately, “It worked OK for a while” (Shields 283, 287-89; FWTD 123). To a great extent, Slapstick can be understood as Vonnegut’s attempt on his own at realizing his dream. In the bizarre story, he has the protagonist, the “I” in the narrative and the president of future America, carry out the theory of the “artifi cial extended families”, assigning names of fl owers and animals as middle names to every citizen so that people can recognize their relatives according to the name. Another legacy Vonnegut obtained from the University of Chicago was the cultural relativist perspective. Cultural anthropology taught him that what he had once believed about himself, his family, American society, and all of Judeo-Christian civilization, was contingent upon Western theories about time, knowledge, moral, law, and custom. “Culture is a gadget; it’s something we inherit,” he later wrote. “And you can fix it the way you can fix a broken oil burner” (Shields 88). With such an understanding, he was to develop a much broader vision of humanity and an egalitarian view that sees all living creatures equal and worth of respect, Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 93 as he said, “I was confirmed as a cultural relativist, as the University of Chicago brought it home to me that my culture was not superior to anyone else’s or even more complex” (Shields 88). Besides these prominent fi gures, there are some other people whom Vonnegut counted as important in the making of his character and his thinking. One is Ida Young, the African American cook and housekeeper of the Vonneguts’. Thanks to the distant, aristorcratic mother, little Vonnegut “spent probably more time with her than I spent with anybody—until I got married, of course” (WFG xxiv). A pious Methodist, Ida Young told him stories from the Bible and taught him about “kindness, honesty, and proper behavior” (Shields 17). She also read him stories from a sentimental book, More Heart Throbs, which Vonnegut remarked as “hav[ing] so much to do with what I am”, and from which it was an easy jump “to The Spoon River Anthology, by Edgar Lee Masters, to Main Street, by Sinclair Lewis, to U.S.A., by John Dos Passos, to my thinking now” (WFG xxv). Vonnegut thought he owed his “intolerable sentimentality” to this early education by Ida Young (WFG xxv). Another source of infl uence was Vonnegut’s ancestors. From his great grandfather Clemens, a robust man with political and social distinction, an advocate of progressive public education, Kurt inherited the legacy of free thinking. He was straightforward with his identifi cation with this ancestor.

“Clemens Vonnegut was a cultivated eccentric,” says Uncle John [who wrote the family history of the Vonneguts]. That is what I aspire to be. […] “While his forebears had been Roman Catholics, he professed to be an atheist or Free Thinker.” So do I profess. “He would more properly be called a skeptic, one who rejects faith in the unknowable,” “‘Skeptic’ is also the proper thing with call me.” (PS 31)

This legacy played a significant role in Vonnegut’s thinking of Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 94 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

religion, politics, and art. Kurt expressed similar identification with his architect grandfather, a refi ned man dedicated to arts but considered by the Midwestern as a freak. He could understand the unhappiness of his grandpa because he suffered similar suffocation when as a youth he wanted to pursue arts but was forced into studying “something useful”, which was synonym to science. Later he would spend his life trying to show to the world that being a writer could also be useful for society. The family heritage influenced Kurt Vonnegut in another aspect, namely, their ethnic identity as German-Americans. Although the Vonneguts was a prestigious family in Midwestern America and they tried to preserve their German culture since their immigration to America in the early 19th century, the cultural tie was cut off during the First World War, due to the prevailing anti-German sentiments. Kurt Vonnegut’s parents were so intimidated that they resolved to raise their children “without acquainting [them] with the language or the literature or the music or the oral family histories which my ancestors had loved. They volunteered to make me ignorant and rootless as proof of their patriotism” (PS 20). As Uncle John pointed out in the family history, the two world wars were painful experiences for the German-Americans. “They hated to be obliged to fi ght their racial cousins, but they did so, and it is signifi cant that of the millions of German descendants in the United States during those dreadful wars there was not one case of treason” (PS 20-21). This ethnic dilemma and the mood of the Diaspora filled in Vonnegut’s fiction and might account, at least in part, for his detestation of war and prejudice of any kind. Here we may come to a conclusion that, directly or indirectly, all the factors, education at home and school, family, friends, books, war, and social movements, all had an infl uence on the shaping of Vonnegut’s personality and thinking. Having experienced the hardships of the Depression, the pain of mother’s suicide, the horror of war, the humiliation Chapter 1 Vonnegut Revisited: In an Ecological Context 95 of captivity, and the abhorrence of overnight conflagration of an entire city, he grew up into a sad, skeptical, but kind and sentimental young man, longing for love, recognition, and belonging. As a writer, he was humane and compassionate, capable of seeing the world with an open mind, from a perspective that is larger than life, free from prejudices as much as possible, in terms of race, gender, class, nationality, culture, and, species. He was to become a man with profound egalitarian and humanitarian sympathies for all beings, particularly those of lower and humble origins, those oppressed, manipulated, victimized. As Gregory D. Sumner, another Vonnegut biographer, has noted, running through his fourteen novels, there is “[t]he identification with the underdog”, “the tenderness for misfits, castoffs, and losers in a country of ambitious strivers” (8). Vonnegut expresses his missionary commitment to the good of the underdog by quoting Eugene Victor Debs (1855—1926), the socialist leader to whom he dedicated Hocus Pocus, “While there is a lower class I am in it. While there is a criminal element I am of it. Where there is a soul in prison I am not free.” All these qualities laid good foundations for the philosophy of Kurt Vonnegut, a philosophy that tries to enlarge humanism and include every living being into the humane concern. Chapter 2

Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity

A pivotal concern of Vonnegut’s philosophy of humanism is the (re)defi nition of humanity. A descendant in the strain of Swift, Twain, and H. G. Wells, Vonnegut is utterly skeptical of the Enlightenment concept of humanity, which celebrates man’s distinction from and superiority to the animal world. For him, inhumanity seems a more constant state in the contemporary human existence. The orthodox Enlightenment paradigm of the “human” boasts of such modes of behavior: civil, advanced, just, compassionate, and decorous; whereas anything negative is defined as “inhuman”: brutal, primitive, ruthless, cruel, and excessive (P. Armstrong 23). As in the definition of humanity, “inhumanity”, too, relies on the referential role of the animal— “inhumanity” refers to any form of behavior in a human being that is more brutal and savage than that of the predatory animals. There needs be a distinction between the two words “inhuman” and “non-human”. While “non-human” denotes anything that is not human, “inhuman”, on the contrary, pertains to humans only. According to John Simons, only humans can be “inhuman” because inhumanity occupies, as in Swift’s world, “a Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 97 particularly savage moral ground by taking on rational thought processes which cannot be shared by the non-rational animal.” Therefore, the power of reason which conventionally denotes humanity as being superior to the beast becomes “a marker of this inhumanity” (Simons 2002: 126). It thus completes a thrice-fold category generated by the human-animal distinction: humanity, animality, and inhumanity. Philip Armstrong follows this understanding in his analysis of the meaning of animals in modern fiction. He points out that in orthodox Enlightenment humanism “inhumanity” is always associated with non- European cultures or the pre-modern phase that humans occupy before they are trained out of the base state of living. “This ‘atavistic’ inhumanity provides, along with animality, a negative term against which a modern form of humanity can be defined” (25). However, Armstrong observes, quite a few writers of the 18th century, Jonathan Swift in particular, have made critical investigations into Enlightenment humanism and uncovered an alternative, instrumentalist mode of inhumanity. “While this second form of moral degradation is also considered worse than animalistic,” Armstrong notes, “it is presented not as a primitive phenomenon but as a disposition arising from the very kinds of rationalistic paradigms and experimental technologies privileged by ” (25). In other words, the advanced modernity renders humans more “inhuman”. For Swift and some other writers, the Enlightenment principles of rationality and humaneness are hypocrisies maintained only by systematic denial of the relationship between the atavistic or primitive manifestations of inhumanity and its civilized, modern expressions—the latter exemplified by the colonial systems designed to exploit and control human and non-human populations alike. Vonnegut is obviously in the Swiftian tradition. Although the imperialist modernity that Swift attacks seems to have died away, Vonnegut, two hundred years later, sees similar forms of brutality and Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 98 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

savagery that result from an excessive faith in rationality and operate in the guise of civilization. Commenting on the wasteful American space project in an essay of the 1970s, Vonnegut makes a comparison of humans with the apes in a Cinerama motion picture 2001: “I remember their bloodshot eyes and their fears at night, how they learned to use tools to smash in each other’s skulls. And I suppose we’re not much past that on the scale of evolution, even though we now have Cinerama” (WFG 84, emphasis added). However advanced technology humans have invented, they have not passed the stage of brutality, or, they are of brutality that is even worse, for they have “learned to use tools”. In many of his novels, Vonnegut demonstrates the human propensity for the “detached, reasoned, calculated ruthlessness”, just as Swift does in the portrayal of the Houyhnhnms. One example of such portrayal is the recurrent motif of the killing of animals for food. In Breakfast of Champions, Hocus Pocus, and Galapagos, in a manner of description that is much at variance with his customary laconic style, Vonnegut depicts the human killing of chickens, pigs, dogs, cattle, and all kinds of animals on the Galapagos Islands in great detail, inviting his readers to notice the brutality and barbarity demonstrated in the act and rethink the meaning of humanity.

Ⅰ. Meat-eating: A Moral Issue

The moral standing in the practice of meat eating is one of the oldest controversies in the human history. While most people feel little discomfort with it, some believe it is wrong to eat the flesh of fellow creatures. Plutarch, for example, argues that it is both unnatural and immoral to eat animal meat. The human physiology such as the softness of the tongue and the slowness of the stomach in digestion are evidences that humans are not constituted for meat consumption. As for morality, he believes humans have a kinship with other animals and it is morally unacceptable to eat Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 99 them. “With what soul or reason,” he inquires,

the first man with his mouth touched slaughter, and reached to his lips the fl esh of a dead animal, and having set before people courses of ghastly corpses and ghosts, could give those parts the names of meat and victuals, that but a little before lowed, cried, moved, and saw; how his sight could endure the blood of slaughtered, fl ayed, and mangled bodies; how his smell could bear their scent; and how the very nastiness happened not to offend the taste, while it chewed the sores of others, and participated of the saps and juices of deadly wounds. (154-5)

Plutarch also articulates the connection between the victimization of animals and human social problems, maintaining that the desire of slaughter, initially experimented and exercised in animals, will eventually lead to “the slaughter of man, to bloodshed and wars” (157). Plutarch has a large following in the later centuries, including Montaigne, Kant, Rousseau, and Schopenhauer, to name just a few, although not all of them are strict vegetarians. Contemporary animal ethicists extend on Plutarch’s argument. They believe that what people eat and how they eat are ethical matters. It matters not only in that the mentality of cruelty fostered in the treatment of animals will viciously affect one’s behavior to fellow humans. It is a grave ethical matter also because of the sufferings of the animals themselves. Peter Singer, , David DeGrazia, and many others have all expounded on the issue. They make investigations into the common practices on farm factories and present abhorring accounts of the deplorable living conditions of chickens, pigs, sheep, calves, ducks, and turkeys on the animal farm. These animals are crowded in barren and fi lthy environment, terribly restricted in activity within extremely limited space, having part of their beak or horn or tail cut off, castrated if it is a male quadruple, to prevent aggressive behavior Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 100 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

among themselves. All of the mutilation is done without anesthesia. The young is always taken away from the mother immediately after birth, fed on milk artifi cially controlled in its additives to guarantee the production of desired elements. All animals are maintained on drug-laced, unnatural diets. The natural process of birth, growth, and reproduction becomes cruelly manipulated and is conducted at great costs. As Jim Mason puts it,

The animal factory is a classic case of technology run amok: it requires high inputs of capital and energy to carry out a simple, natural process; it creates a costly chain of problems and risks; and it does not, in fact, produce the results claimed by its proponents. Moreover, the animal factory pulls our society one long, dark step backward from the desirable goal of a sane, ethical relationship with the natural world and our fellow inhabitants. (104)

David Nibert, on the other hand, explores the political and economic connection between the oppression on the animal farm and the oppression in human society. He finds that the promotion of meat consumption in developed countries has led to the deprivation of poor people in the Third World countries, such as those in Central America. The elite class of these countries use much of the land to raise cattle, livestock feed, and other “cash crops” that are sold to multinational corporations, hence the Third World masses have no land to produce food for themselves, and they fi nd it extremely diffi cult to afford food from countries like the United States. Therefore, as Nibert argues, “Modern agribusinesses produce food for everyone who can afford it, not for everyone who needs it” (184). The core of the oppression of both humans and animals is monetary gain, which sits at the heart of the capitalist political economic system. There is little indication that Kurt Vonnegut is vegetarian, but he is defi nitely concerned about the cruelty exercised in the killing of animals for food. In Breakfast of Champions, Hocus Pocus, and Galapagos, there Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 101 are explicit and detailed descriptions of such cruelty. Furthermore, as I mentioned earlier, the tone of the narrator in these novels develops from ridicule to indignation. A sincere concern is gaining in primacy in the progress of his writing for the slaughtered animals. Thematically, these descriptions contribute in subtle but potent ways to the major themes of humanity.

Ⅱ. For the Sake of “Doodley-squat”: Cruelty Behind the Hamburger in Breakfast of Champions

From the author’s “preface” to the book, we understand that Breakfast of Champions, or Goodbye Blue Monday (1973) is a book that the author intends to write “childishly” and “impolitely”. It is illustrated with graffi ti and simplistic, provoking line drawings of such matters as the American national fl ag, the Nazi fl ag, underpants, assholes, and even a “wide-open beaver”—a woman’s vagina (BC 23). By so doing, he is to “clear my head of all the junk in there” which “other people have put into my head” and which “do not fit together nicely, are often useless and ugly, are out proportion with one another, and out of proportion with life as it really is outside my head” (BC 5). Written around 1972, the book is meant to be a gift for his fi ftieth birthday, and he is very aware that he has reached the summit of his writing career and is “crossing the spine of a roof, having ascended one slope” (Slaughterhouse-Five has just won him unprecedented success both critically and commercially). He takes writing of the book as an act “to make my head as empty as it was when I was born onto this damaged planet fifty years ago”, as a “backward trip” until he comes to the date of his birth, “November eleventh, accidentally my birthday, was a sacred day called Armistice Day” (BC 6). For him, Armistice Day is a Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 102 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

sacred day because it is supposed to mark the end of war and the beginning of peace. Writing the novel back to a day honoring peace, Vonnegut is doing something like cleansing himself of all the dirt and pollution and start all over again. “I have no culture, no humane harmony in my brains. I can’t live without a culture any one” (BC 5). Therefore, for all the apparent vulgar contents, the bizarre narrative, and the postmodern metafictional tricks such as the authorial intrusion, the book is meant to be a relentlessly honest act of soul cleansing and social commentary. Vonnegut indeed makes strong social commentaries in the novel: racial exploitation, sexual inequality, the middle-class coyness, and the hypocrisy and crudity of the American culture as a whole are all put under fi re. Of the most intense critique is the environmental destruction humans have created upon the Earth. Breakfast of Champions is the fi rst book in which Vonnegut talks explicitly and pointedly about the environment. This is a logical move for him in view of the rise of the Environmental Movement in the mid-1960s and his recent invitation to speak on the fi rst “Earth Day” in 1970. Throughout the novel, the earth is referred to as “the wrecked planet”, “a planet that was dying fast”. Kilgore Trout, the aging science fiction writer and Vonnegut’s alter ego, daily talks to his pet, a parakeet named Bill, about “the end of the world”. He has a depressing childhood in Bermuda where he witnesses the death and extinction of the Bermuda Erns, “the largest creatures ever to fl y under their own power on the planet” (BC 30). The cause of the bird’s extinction is discovered to be a fungus brought to their rookery by humans. He grows thus gloomily pessimistic about the future of the planet. He tells Bill, “humanity deserved to die horribly, since it had behaved so cruelly and wastefully on a planet so sweet” (BC 18). On his journey from New York through New Jersey, Philadelphia, and West Virginia, to Midland City, Ohio, where he is invited to speak on an arts festival, Kilgore Trout makes “the black humorist’s revision of Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 103

Tocqueville’s passage” (Giannone 104). Only that instead of a panorama of a thriving new country that the young French philosopher saw, Trout presents to his readers a despairing picture of a world that is filthy and barren. First are the poisoned marshes and meadows of New Jersey, where the driver on whose truck Trout hitchhikes used to be a hunter and fi sherman long ago. “It broke his heart when he imagined what the marshes and meadows had been like only a hundred years before” (BC 84). They are now poisoned by the fi lth and chemicals from manufacturing factories. Then the truck passes a bridge shrouded in smoke, ironically named for Walt Whitman. The truck driver self-critically remarks that his truck was turning the atmosphere into “poison gas” and he is “committing suicide” (BC 85). Soon Trout fi nds the truck rolling through West Virginia, whose surface “had been demolished by men and machinery and explosives in order to make it yield up its coal” (BC 119). In this crude manner of strip mining, trees and topsoil go with the coal, and the landscape of the state is transformed into ugly holes and pits, which in turn leads to landslide and other disasters. When he fi nally arrives in Midland City, Trout has to trudge barefooted across a river called Sugar Creek. While wading in the river, his feet become sheathed with a coat of mysterious, hard substance. It is waste from a local defense contractor, a byproduct of the antipersonnel bomb made for the Air Force. In this depiction, Sugar Creek is almost as bad as the Cuyahoga River in Ohio, “the river that caught fire”, which Trout mentions in his talk with the truck driver (BC 84). In a word, severe industrial pollution is everywhere in the novel. We see a most horrible picture of the literalized “wasteland”, a physical counterpart of the spiritual wasteland that the narrator describes in the preface of the book. Making a comment after the truck driver complains about the replacement of fi sh and game in the New Jersey marshes by the “shit that most of these factories make”, the narrator muses, “He had a point. The planet was being destroyed by manufacturing processes, and what was Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 104 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

being manufactured was lousy, by and large” (BC 84). Being a downright pessimist, Trout rejects conservationism, since he is certain that nothing can be done about the coming Armageddon: “I used to be a conservationist. I used to weep and wail about people shooting bald eagles with automatic shotguns from helicopters and all that, but I gave it up. […] There’s a nice conservation measure for you. That’s God, not man. Just about the time we got our rivers cleaned up, he’d probably have the whole galaxy go up like a celluloid collar” (BC 84-5). In such remarks, we see a Vonnegut exasperated by the human wastefulness and carelessness. Pessimistic as he is, there is actually more anger and sadness than despair. To him, humans have corrupted to a stage unpardonable to God. The environmental destruction constitutes a central critique of the novel, that of the vulgarity, superficiality, fakery, and greediness of an industrial consumer culture. People work like machines and robots; everybody is crazy to have more in possession of “doodley-squat” (a Vonnegutian coinage meaning big money). To obtain “doodley-squat”, they can do anything and at the cost of anything and anybody’s interest. Closely related to this culture is the newly rising fast-food culture. Of all the illustrations in the book, two are of fast food. One is the beef hamburger; the other is the Kentucky Fried Chicken. Coming along with the hamburger and the fried chicken are the illustrations of the animals from whom the food comes. Not only that, the narrator gives a detailed description of the process as to how the food is made. As neither is very long, I quote them in full: For the beef hamburger:

A hamburger was made out of an animal which looked like this: [the illustration of a full-grown cow]. The animal was killed and grounded up into little bits, then shaped into patties and fried, and put between two pieces of bread. The finished product looked like this: [the illustration of a beef hamburger]. (BC 124) Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 105

For the fried chicken:

A chicken was a flightless bird which looked like this: [illustration of a full-grown chicken]. The idea was to kill it and pull out all its feather, and cut off its head and feet and scoop out its internal organs—and then chop it into pieces and fry the pieces, and put the pieces in a waxed paper bucket with a lid on it, so it looked like this: [illustration of a bucket of fried chicken drums]. (BC 157-8)

At first sight, these pictures and descriptions seem nonsensical and naive, since they are so common facts that such detailed explanations, given in the manner and tone of school children textbooks, only make them ludicrous. Besides, the descriptive language is childishly simple, with most words monosyllabic and using “and” as connectives between all the verbs. However, upon further consideration, we can see profound meaning beneath the apparent childishness. First of all, Vonnegut selects very strong active verbs in describing the killing process of the animals, particularly with the chicken. It is a quick succession of fi erce acts: “kill”, “pull out”, “cut off”, “scoop”, “chop”, “fry”, “put”. All are brisk, quick, active one- syllable words. All, except for “put”, denote specifi c and precise meaning in the description of the act. All suggest coldblooded cruelty and outrageous callousness. Besides, there is not the least mention of the receiver of the acts, as if instead of a living animal, the chicken is an insentient “thing”. Secondly, in both the pictures and the descriptive words, there is a deliberate emphasis on both the connection and the contrast between the food and the living animal, as if it is something that needs to be called to mind. The hamburger is made of cow, and the chicken drums are originally legs of a fl ightless bird. Isn’t it ridiculous to repeat these associations? The answer is “No”. According to , it was only after WWⅡ that domestic beef Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 106 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

consumption arose in America. The postwar economic boom facilitated the increase, particularly in the form of “hamburgers”. New businesses were created, such as White Castle and McDonald’s. “By 1977, nearly 40 percent of ‘beef’ consumed in the United States was in the form of ‘ground beef’”. Consumption of other animals as food also grew, especially in the latter half of the 20th century, through relentless advertising by agribusinesses. “Between 1950 and 1976, the US per capita consumption of ‘beef’ alone more than doubled, from 63.4 to 129.4 pounds annually. Profitable fast- food chains fl ourished as they promoted the growth and expansion of the ‘hamburger culture’” (183). So Breakfast of Champions was written against a backdrop of increased meat consumption and the prosperity of a new hamburger culture. This explains the abundant details about hamburgers and fast-food chain restaurants: the truck driver, who is a “big eater”, eats at a McDonald’s. Dwayne Hoover, the other leading role in the novel besides Kilgore Trout, owns several Burger Chefs even though his main business is automobile deals. In an effort to ease Dwayne’s suicidal depression and stress, his mistress suggests opening a Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise nearby the city prison, but unfortunately the suggestion arouses great resentment in Dwayne, who suspects that the woman is asking for an expensive gift. This emergence of the burger culture and the drastic increase of meat consumption, however, were accompanied not by an intensified human- animal relationship, but its opposite: “people of the 20th century have spatially detached from the animals they consume and emotionally reluctant to recognize the embodied nature of meat foods” (Franklin 126). This is because traditional family-based husbandry was replaced by intensive, controlled, and industrialized livestock production. According to DeGrazia, “since the Second World War, factory farms—which try to raise as many animals as possible in very limited space in order to maximize profits— Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 107 have driven three million American family farms out of business” (178). The era that Berger famously describes as when “a peasant becomes fond of his pig and is glad to salt away its pork” was over (1980: 5). As a matter of fact, as Adrian Franklin notes, “there are many tales of urban children in the late 20th century who did not know that meat came from animal sources or even what they looked like” (7). Katherine C. Grier, author of a substantial study on pet-keeping in America, cites her own example when she writes about the lacking of knowledge, “As a child, I don’t think that I ever considered the connection between hamburgers and cows, or bacon and pigs. The presentation of meat in paper trays covered with plastic in the markets where my mother shopped did not help clarify the relationship” (2). She spent her childhood in the 1960s, about the time when Vonnegut wrote the book. In this sense, Vonnegut’s emphasis of the connection between the food and the animal is not at all redundant or funny, but very necessary. Defi nitely, Vonnegut is not only satirizing people’s loss of connection with animals. In his seemingly comical representation of the food and the animal, he reminds readers of the blood and the suffering in the process of slaughtering. As the pictures of the food shows, the look of the food—two pieces of bread with neat-looking fried ground meat in between and fried parts of a chicken placed in a clean-looking waxed paper bucket—obscures the brutality of the killing and justifies the eating. As it were, there was a growing sensibility in the West since the 1960s about meat eating, either for health considerations or animal sentiments. In order to promote meat consumption, meat corporations invented new ways of presentation that disguise the animal sources of the meat. One of the changes was the size and package of the meat (Franklin 153-155). As Peter Singer points out, “Buying food in a store or restaurant is the culmination of a long process, of which all but the end product is delicately screened from our eyes” (1990 [1975]: 95). By means of infantile simplicity and apparent jocularity, however, Vonnegut lays bare the connection between the food and the living animals Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 108 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

and the cruelty involved in the process of turning animals into food. He mercilessly punctures the self-deceptive lie, in the same manner as he does in the novel the American lies that cover the European usurpation of the continent from the Indians and the racial oppression over the black people. He forces upon the reader the recognition of the human barbarity. As Sumner notes, the book’s moment’s brutality are meant to “jolt the reader into seeing familiar things in new ways, questioning the most mundane words and gestures for the (often toxic) baggage they carry” (150). In this sense, Vonnegut goes one step earlier than Peter Singer in pointing out and tearing off the “verbal disguise” that helps cover “the origin of our food” (Singer 1990 [1975]: 96). Two years after the publication of Breakfast of Champions, Singer published his ground-breaking book, Animal Liberation (1975), giving a full account of the brutality practiced on chickens, pigs, calves, cow, beef cattle, sheep, etc. on the animal farm. The prosperity of hamburger industry means the death and suffering of a great number of animals. According to Singer, over 100 million cows, pigs, and sheep are raised and slaughtered in the United States alone each year; and for poultry the fi gure is a staggering 5 billion (1990 [1975]: 95). All of these animals experience unimaginable misery in the short life before their fi nal death: confi nement, crowding, severe restriction of movement, deprivation of family, deprivation of means to meet basic instinctual needs (such as nesting, grooming, spreading the wings or stretching the legs, and sucking for baby animals), loneliness, boredom, fear, anxiety, and constant pain. Although Vonnegut makes no direct reference to the issue of animal farming in Breakfast of Champions, he does mention it in a number of other books. In The Sirens of Titan (1952), for example, Rumfoord tells Constant that Constant and Beatrice will be bred by the Martians “like farm animals” (ST 26), meaning they will be treated very roughly on Mars, less than humans. In Hocus Pocus (1990), similarly, when the narrator and his wife sees three convicts issue out of a prison truck that is on fi re, all of them in Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 109 shackles and chains and under the shot guns of the guards, they both are seized with awe. The wife later describes the experience as “like seeing animals on their way to a slaughterhouse” (HP 79). In Jailbird (1979), a group of foreign workmen are described as a herd of farm animals: “They slept on the train. They ate on the train. They allowed themselves to be herded like docile cattle between the mansion and the train” (J 97). As a matter of fact, an almost identical description had already appeared in Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), in the description of the conditions of the American prisoners in the boxcars of the train. Therefore, Vonnegut is surely aware of the situation of the farm animals of the 1960s and 1970s and must have agreed with the animal welfare activists that it is one of the worst conditions of existence on earth. The comparison of prisoners and workmen to farm animals shows Vonnegut’s insight of the analogous condition of racism, classism, and speciesism, an insight that actually preceded even Peter Singer’s introduction of the term “speciesism”. In Breakfast of Champions, his disapproval of the craze for hamburger and meat consumption is implied. When Trout stops with the truck driver at the McDonald’s, he orders only a coffee. Even though the reason he gives is that he has little money on him, he literally abstains from eating hamburgers. There is also a true vegetarian in the novel—Bunny Hoover, the estranged son of Dwayne Hoover, a pale, quiet, and kind young man. He was sent by his father to a military school when he was only ten, because “he told Dwayne that he wished he were a woman instead of a man, because what men did was so often cruel and ugly” (BC 180). Accused of homosexual behavior, Bunny is dispatched by the army and his father refuses to exchange words with him. He lives in an area for the homeless and lonely, “Skid Row”, and leads a simple life—“fruits and vegetables were all he ate, and he munched them raw”. Vonnegut makes a special emphasis that “[h]e not only did without dead meat—he did without living meat too, without friends or lovers or pets” (BC 177). Vonnegut’s Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 110 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

portrayal of Bunny is full of empathy and love, presenting him as a pure, delicate, and vulnerable young man. He becomes the first victim when his schizophrenic father runs amok at the arts festival dinner, beating everybody up as robots and machines. Another direct address of the issue of human-animal relationship is made in the character of Martha Simmons, wife of a County Commissioner of Public Safety in Midland City. The description of her is unusually tender and respectful for the crude style of the book. A reader of Albert Schweitzer, Martha treats simpler animals with love. While trying to rescue a sick bat clinging on her fl oor-to-ceiling draperies, she contracted rabies and dies of it. The death of such a loving character is perplexing, but the description of the unnatural environment gives a hint for the cause of this tragedy. “The bat nipped her ever so slightly as she wrapped it in Kleenex, a face tissue. She carried it out onto her Patio, where she laid it gently on a form of artificial grass known as Astro-turf” (BC 266). Both the face tissue and the grass apparently signify artificiality and the prevalence of consumerism, as both have famous brand names. Out of its natural habitat and trapped in a completely artificial environment, the bat can hardly have any other destiny but to become sick and die, just like the fi shes in Dwayne’s Sacred Miracle Cave that turn belly-up and go extinct due to the pollution of the underground water. Similarly, Martha’s defenseless, well- meaning effort to rescue the sick bat leads only to her innocent death. The tragic story of Martha Simmons is therefore an allegorical lesson warning of the vicious cycle that is caused by the industrial culture and human carelessness in their maniac grabbing of “doodley-squat”.

Ⅲ. For the Pleasure of the Palate: Avarice and Atrocity in Hocus Pocus

“Of all forms of intensive [animal] farming now practiced, the veal Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 111 industry ranks as the most morally repugnant”, remarks Peter Singer in Animal Liberation (129). He points out that although veal consumption cannot compare in size and scale with poultry, beef, or pork, since this tender, pale-colored flesh costs much more highly and is served only to the patrons of expensive restaurants, the veal industry is worth our attention, because “it represents an extreme, both in the degree of exploitation to which it subjects the animals and in its absurd ineffi ciency as a method of providing people with nourishment” (1990 [1975]: 129). Jim Mason and Mary Finelli give a condensed description of the common practices in veal production:

In the US, every year about 750,000 calves—mostly males, who are of little use to the dairy industry—are taken from their mothers within a day of birth and turned into sickly, neurotic animals to provide the luxury-grade “milk-fed” veal preferred by gourmet cooks and fancy restaurants. The young calves, stressed by separation from their mothers, are placed in narrow wooden stalls, lined up row on row in the confi nement building. For between eighteen and twenty weeks, each calf is confi ned to a space scarcely larger than his own body, and is tied at the neck to restrict movement further. He is fed only “milk replacer,” a liquid mixture of dried milk products, starch, fats, sugar, antibiotics, and other additives. The milk replacer is defi cient in iron to induce subclinical anemia— a necessary condition if the producer’s calves are to have flesh white enough to fetch the market price for “prime” veal. No hay or other roughage is permitted, for that too might darken the fl esh. Even the wooden stalls and neck chains are part of the plan, as these restrictions keep the calf from licking his own urine and feces to satisfy his craving for iron. (109-110)

This description, however, covers only one of the twin aims of veal production claimed by Provimi, the oldest and largest veal producer in Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 112 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

America, namely, keeping the meat as light in color as possible. The other aim is “to produce a calf of the greatest possible weight in the shortest possible time” (Singer 1990 [1975]: 130-1). In order to meet this goal, the calf is not given water but only rich, milk replacer food, and the temperature of the shed is kept warm, so that the calf will constantly sweat. The thirsty animal has to eat more food than needed in order to get enough liquid, whereas overeating makes it sweat more, hence more thirsty. In such a malignant cycle, combined with the severe restriction of exercise (in the narrow stall, he cannot even stand up and lie down without diffi culty, or turn around to groom himself, which is an innate desire for calves), the calf may weigh as much as four hundred pounds in sixteen weeks, as opposed to the ninety-odd pounds that newborn calves weigh (Singer 1990 [1975]:130, 135). Obviously, the economic profi t is tremendous, but it is won on top of unbearable pain and suffering of the young calf. Most outrageous of all, all this suffering is unnecessary, as the light-colored fl esh, except for its tenderness in texture, does not offer the human eater any more nutrition than the red meat. Indeed, it is only fl esh from an unhappy, unhealthy animal. The essence of the demand for such fl esh, therefore, is nothing but “a matter of snob appeal” (Singer 1990 [1975]: 133). The method of raising veal calves on tether and milk replacer was introduced to the United States in 1962. By the 1980s, a strong animal welfare movement concerning veal was started, with the release of photographs of veal calves tethered in crates where they could barely move. Under the pressure of public criticism, a federal U.S. bill entitled Veal Calf Protection Act (H.R. 84) was introduced in 1989 and then reintroduced (H.R. 2346) in 1990.The bill set restrictions on housing, diet, and antibiotic usage in the veal industry. However, the passage of both bills failed due to lack of congressional support. Still the public became aware of the issues through effective media campaigns[1].

[1] See Wilson, et al., “Scientifi c Advancements and Legislation Addressing Veal Calves in North America”, (http://www.vetmed.ucdavis.edu/vetext/inf-an/inf-an_veal95france.html). Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 113

In Hocus Pocus (1990), there is an account of beef production and it is remarkably similar to the quotation of Mason and Finelli. The account is given when the narrator-protagonist’s newly-found illegitimate son, Rob Roy, talks with the protagonist about his stepfather, a very rich meat packer. Rob Roy tells the protagonist that the stepfather has been very good to him, but there is one thing that he doesn’t like about him—the way he raises calves for veal:

The baby animals, scarcely out of the womb, were put in cages so cramped that they could hardly move, to make their muscles nice and tender. When they were big enough their throats were cut, and they had never run or jumped or made friends, or done anything that might have made life a worthwhile experience. (HP 310)

Short and simple as the passage is, it is clearly of the same effect as that of Mason and Finelli’s, or even more. While the scholar and activist try to sound neutral and objective so as not to be accused of sentimentality, a common charge against animal welfare advocates, the narrator of the story makes good use of the poetic license to imagine, elaborate, and sentimentalize, evoking pathos and sympathy for the young animal, particularly by emphasizing its pure innocence, utter helplessness, and the deprivation of an enjoyable and meaningful life. More significantly, the calves are not treated as “dumb beasts”, but living creatures with feelings, motives, and a sense of future. For Rob Roy and the narrator, their greatest loss is not life itself, but the possibility to “run or jump or make friends, or do anything that might make life a worthwhile experience”, which is what life means for human beings, too. Here implies Vonnegut’s belief that animals, like humans, are entitled to and capable of enjoying life that is meaningful to them. Rob Roy is a pathetic character himself and one of compassion. Conceived during a casual spree during the Vietnam War between the Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 114 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

narrator-protagonist and a journalist, Roy has never seen his biological father in the process of growing up. His mother died when he was four and he spent his life with his stepfather. When he inherits the big property from his stepfather, which is the worth of the meat packing business paid in gold bricks, he feels embarrassed and wants to give something back to Dubuque, Iowa, where he grows up and where the inherited money is made. He founds and runs a free child-care center at his own expense, to help take care of the children of the many single parents and working-class couples who are unable to “feed and clothe their children halfway decently”. Unfortunately, two weeks after he opens the center, he was arrested for child molestation. The accusation is later proved false by court, but by then he has already been held in jail without bail for three months (HP 306). For a young man of such experiences, it is not surprising that Rob Roy cannot accept the cruelty done to the young calf. He might as well have compared himself to the young animals, who are taken away from their mother soon after birth. Is it right, he may wonder, for humans to infl ict so much pain and suffering upon the calves, just for the sake of taste? For the narrator-protagonist, the exploitation of the calves bears more complex meaning. He evidently agrees with Rob Roy. Following the narration of the cruelty quoted above, in a separate one-line paragraph, a question is posed, “What was their crime?” (HP 310) Read in a normal tone, the question is directed singularly to the case of the calves captivated and deprived of any joy of life. It points to the lacking of moral remorse in the practice and reveals its nature of injustice and inhumanity. On a second reading, giving special stress to “their”, the question may implicate a comparison of the calves to people: the black criminals kept in the prison where he teaches, the Vietnamese he has killed in the Vietnam War, and even including he himself who is also roughly manipulated by people of power and money. It is important to note that the account about the meat packer’s calf Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 115 raising is not in quotation marks. So it is not clear who gives the account. It is supposed to be Rob Roy, because the account is in the same passage of his talk about his stepfather, following immediately the sentence, “Rob Roy said that the only thing he didn’t like about him was the way he raised calves for veal”. But by putting it in a reporting indirect speech, the narrator, we may infer, has reorganized the ideas and there is implied on his part about the content of the speech. If the consent is only implied in the report of the account, it is explicit in the question: “What was their crime?” According to the “editor’s note” at the beginning of the book, the author of the book writes his thoughts in scraps of paper he can get hold of. So the passages are separated by unconventional lines, which actually indicates where one scrap ends and the next begins (HP vii). As the question is in a separate one-line paragraph and without the indicators of speaker such as “Rob Roy said”, which both the paragraphs above and below the question have, the question is presumably the thought of the narrator. If the black convicts and he himself have indeed done something wrong and deserve the punishment they are given, he might be wondering, what wrong have the poor calves done that can justify the suffering they are made to endure? Eugene Debs Hartke, the name of the narrator-protagonist, is a prisoner when he writes the book. By the time Rob Roy turns up, his story is already near its end. He has recounted, albeit in an erratic, non- chronological way, all the events he has gone through: an embarrassing exhibit at a High School Science Fair, where he and his father are caught as frauds; the accidental enrollment into West Point, which turns him into a professional soldier and “would have killed Jesus Christ Himself […] if ordered by a superior officer” (HP 2); the bloody, sickening experiences in the Vietnam War, which for him is “about nothing but the ammunition business”, and yet thousands of soldiers have to be continually “fed into the meat grinder” for its sake (HP 154). He was a Lieutenant Colonel during Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 116 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

the war, the “mastermind” behind a lot of brutal acts, which “still bothers me” (HP 153). After the war, as a result of an accidental encounter with Sam Wakefi eld, the same man that puts him into West Point, he takes on a job teaching physics at Tarkington College in Scipio, New York, where the students are all from very famous and wealthy families but have learning disabilities or are “plain stupid or comatose or whatever” (HP 18). While teaching at Tarkington, he patiently looks after his crazy mother-in-law at fi rst and then his crazy wife as well, both of whom are hit by the hereditary insanity running in the family. After fi fteen uneventful years, he gets fi red without warning by the college because of his “discouraging” teachings of American history and politics and his behavior as “a shameless adulterer” (HP 149). He then gets a teaching job at the Athena prison across the lake from the college. He teaches the prisoners, all of whom are blacks, for eight years until the sudden mass prison break and the ensuing fi ve-day Battle of Scipio. Hartke is made first Brigadier General of the National Guard when the insurrection is put down and then Warden when the college is turned into a prison. But shortly after that, he is arrested for “the crime of insurrection” (HP 317), and is imprisoned in his own prison, the former college where he taught for 15 years. In the vicissitude of his life, Hartke has seen and heard of enough atrocity and absurdity. The question “what was their crime?” may have been asked again and again in his life. The severed head of a bearded old man pillowed in the spilled guts of a water buffalo on the edge of a Cambodia village (HP 46, 125, 205-6), the Vietnamese woman, her mother, and her baby killed by him with a grenade while hiding in a tunnel, the brutal murder of Bruce Bergeron, a nice young man and homosexual, being strangled with his own belt and with a hundred stab wounds in a motel room (HP 145), and the Japanese survivors of Hiroshima atomic bombing, walking like shadows with their skins hanging on their exposed muscles and bones like draperies (HP 243), all of these and many more Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 117 are demanding explanations for their happening. His own ups and downs, too, are never results of his own free will, but by the force of chances. The reasons the wealthy Trustees of Tarkington College provide for his dismissal are groundless and arbitrary, based on recordings taken out of the context. The explanation for his sudden arrest after the prison break is equally out of thin air. When Hartke inquires his former friend, “Does this make any sense to you? What is this happening?”, General Florio, the one who fi rst makes him Brigadier General and then comes to arrest him, doesn’t even bother with a serious answer, “Some serious ambitious young Prosecutor […] thinks you’ll make good TV” (HP 317). Therefore, like the calves raised for veal, his life and the lives of many others are simply toys and playthings to add fun and fl avor for the people in power and fortune, only that the way these people play with them could be very cruel. As a matter of fact, Hartke does make an explicit analogy between the calves and humans. When he hears the abhorring suicide of Hiroshi Matsumoto, the Japanese Warden of the Athena prison, disemboweling himself with a knife “in a ritual of self-loathing once practiced by humiliated members of the samurai, the ancient caste of professional soldiers”, Hartke is shocked hard. The image that arises in his mind is the veal calf: “He has never killed anybody and had the sex life of a calf kept alive for its veal alone” (HP 322). For Hartke, the Warden and the calf are the most innocent beings and the least to deserve brutal handling. Yet they both have to sacrifi ce their lives, the calf for the delicate taste of the eater, the Warden for the sin his people have committed in Nanking and the horror he has witnessed as a boy in the Hiroshima atomic bombing.

Besides the veal calf, there is another image in the novel that suggests the luxury of taste at the cost of animal suffering—the lobster boiled alive. The lobster image is one of the many iterative images that provide the erratic narrative with an underlying structure and emotional consistency. It Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 118 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

recurs three times in the narration: in Chapter 12, 15, and 21 (HP 100, 130, 170). Its intended prominence is obvious. The lobster image fi rst appears when Hartke is on his way to Samoza Hall, where, unknown yet to him, he is to be cross investigated by the Board of Trustee of the college, backed up by recordings of his speech and conversations surreptitiously taken by the daughter of Jason Wilder, a celebrated conservative newspaper columnist and television talk-show host. Anxious about what will happen to him, Hartke makes a note that he meets only two people on his way and explains, with unusual detail, “The seniors and their families and the rest of the faculty were having lunch in the Pavilion. Everybody got a lobster which had been boiled alive” (HP100). In the ten chapters that follow (chapters 12-22), the narrator recounts, with much digression, how the Board of Trustee, under the guiding infl uence of Jason Wilder, question him on his thinking and private life and fi nally fi re him, disregarding his plea for consideration of his devoted teaching and the good opinions from most students and faculty. In Chapter 22, he is out of Samoza Hall. Again he meets two people, separately. One is his best friend Damon Stern, a history professor; the other is Andrea Wakefi eld, wife of Sam Wakefi eld, the man who gets him to West Point fi rst and Tarkington College later and who commits suicide years ago. Hartke does not tell either of them about his dismissal. Instead, he diverts to the topic of lobster again: “Practically everybody else was eating lobsters.” Andrea comes up to him and asks why he is not eating lobster.

“Not hungry,” I said. “I can’t stand it that they’re boiled alive,” she said. “You know what Damon Stern just told me?” “I’m sure it was interesting,” I said. “During the reign of Henry the 8th of England,” she said, “counterfeiters were boiled alive.” Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 119

“Show biz,” I said. “Were they boiled alive in public?” “He didn’t say,” she said. “And what are you doing here?” “Enjoying the sunshine,” I said. (HP170)

In his characteristic laconic style of conversation which resembles that of Hemingway, Kurt Vonnegut vividly portrays a character trying to cover his desperation. Hartke needs the job. He is already fi fty-one and has two crazy dependents to look after. The symmetric reference to the lobster feast, before and after his dismissal, is then both literal and symbolic. Literally, by emphasizing repeatedly the fact that the lobsters are boiled alive, he addresses a contemporary animal welfare issue, just like that of the veal calf, that is, is it humane to cook lobsters alive? Symbolically, he might as well be thinking about himself as lobsters boiled alive by the Trustees. Lobsters used to be the food of poor families on the coast when the immigrants fi rst came to the continent. So it was associated with low status and distain. But over the centuries, its value plummeted and “the poor man’s chicken became the rich man’s prize” by the end of the 19th century[1]. With the over-harvesting of the lobster beds, this crustanean became more and more the food of the elite. It is commonly known that lobsters taste better when cooked alive, and people used to think that lobsters, as a crustacean, do not have a nervous system to feel pain. Nevertheless, in the 1970s, Dr. John Baker (1900—1984), zoologist at the University of Oxford, stated that Crustacea had highly developed sensory organs and complex nervous systems, and their nervous cells were very similar to that of the humans (Singer 1990 [1975]: 174). These discoveries made people believe that lobsters can feel pain. In Animal Liberation, Peter Singer introduced Dr. Baker’s experiments which showed that the standard method of killing lobsters—dropping them alive into boiling water—could cause pain for as long as two minutes (Singer 1990 [1975]: 174). With such discoveries and the debate that ensued about the moral standing in the practice, there was [1] See webpage http://homecooking.about.com/od/foodhistory/a/lobsterhistory.htm. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 120 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

growing sensibility in America over the practice of cooking lobster alive. In the selection of lobsters being cooked alive as one of the leading recurrent motifs, we can see Vonnegut’s awareness of the contention over the creature. As a matter of fact, this is not his fi rst time to talk about lobsters being boiled alive. In Galapagos (1985), a novel about human survival on the isolated islands in the Pacifi c Ocean, Vonnegut has a character make up a science fi ction in which the lobsters become the dominant species on the planet, making a mess of everything by following the human way, simply because “they hadn’t wanted to be boiled alive anymore” (G 184). Four years later, he picked up the image again and made it one of the leading recurrent motifs. When Hartke says, “practically everybody else was eating lobsters”, he projects a scene of carnival in which people are feasting on the pathetic animals like a fl ock of ravenous predators, showing no concern at all for the pain of the writhing creatures in the pot. In another instance where the lobster image is used, he actually has Hartke threaten his students by saying: “anybody who believed in the possibility of perpetual motion should be boiled alive like a lobster” (HP 130). The threat is made jokingly for sure, but it is illustrative of how Vonnegut is disgusted at the practice, treating it as one of the cruelest ways of punishment. That Vonnegut may have in consideration the animal welfare issue as a theme fi nds proof in another instance. Early in the book, the narrator recounts a story about Jack Patton, a Vietnam War comrade and brother- in-law who is killed in the war. While at high school, Patton wins a prize for making an electric chair for rats. People want him to stage a public demonstration of the chair with a tranquilized rat, “wanted him to shave the head of a groggy rat and strap it to the chair, and […] ask it if it had any last words to say […]” (HP 47). However, the execution never took place. “There was enough common sense in Patton’s high school, although not in the Science Department, apparently, to have such an event denounced as cruelty to dumb animals” (HP 47, emphasis added). Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 121

In the symbolic order, Hartke’s identification identified with the lobsters is not a very far-fetched interpretation. When he asks Andrea, “Were they boiled alive in public?” he might have in mind his own inquisition by the Trustees only a while ago. Having the recordings of his fragmented speech and personal conversations played in front of the Board, accusing him of cynicism and indecency that belong to the other speaker in the conversation, exposing the details of his extramarital sex life, including those trysts with the wife of the President of the College, who is present, and, to crown it all, fi ring him on condition of these groundless accusations which are in effect pretexts for their unhappiness about his telling students unpleasant truths about America, it is humiliation and pain that is little better than having him boiled alive. The juxtaposition of people eating lobsters and the protagonist’s being fired, with a special reference to the bizarre penalty of counterfeits in Henry Ⅷ’s reign, the very ruler notorious for willfulness and coldblooded killing, is thus an implicit analogy of two kinds of inhumanity: one as demonstrated in human’s treatment of other animals, the other as seen in the treatment of the superior and powerful to the inferior and weak. Neither is done for the sake of justice, but the sadist satisfaction of the manipulator. Hocus Pocus is not a light-hearted novel, although many critics acclaim its hilarity and amusing quality. The two central events, the Vietnam War and the mass prison break, determine the tone of the book to be depressive and despairing. Besides, there are constant cross-references to the Civil War, World War Ⅱ, the Auschwitz concentration camp, the Rape of Nanking, and ancient wars and rebellions such as the Spartacus’ slave revolt. In effect, the book is loaded with gory descriptions of violent deaths, suicides, murder, crucifi xion, and bodily mutilation. For example, there is reference to the King of Persia who crucified 3,000 people he thought to be enemies in Babylon and the Romans who crucified 6,000 rebels of Spartacus’ slave revolt (HP 189); the Vietnamese boy who kills Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 122 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Jack Patton is made to have his little testicles and penis in his mouth by the American soldiers after they kill him (HP 45), and Tex Johnson, the President of Tarkington, is virtually crucifi ed by the escaped convicts, “with spikes through the palms and feet and all” (HP 189). Signifi cantly, like the lobsters boiled alive and the young calf living a life no better than death, many cases of death the narrator relates are characterized by prolonged suffering: Chinese citizens buried alive in the Rape of Nanking (HP 318), Blacks strung up or burned alive (HP 288), Japanese burned alive during the Hiroshima atomic bombing, “like St. Joan of Arc” (HP 233), and the horses shot for fun by the escaped convicts, not in the head (PH 303). Throughout the human history and regardless of place and ethnicity, human beings are wreaking relentless brutality to each other and to other creatures entirely innocent of any sin. Therefore, it is only natural for the narrator to draw a despairing conclusion: “how unspeakably cruel supposedly sane human beings can be when under orders from a superior authority” (HP 190). The Elders of Tralfamadore in the anonymous science fiction in the novel find an explanation for this cruelty. They find that “they [the Earthlings] feared and hated other Earthlings who did not look and talk exactly as they did. They made life a hell for each other as well as for what they called ‘lower animals’. They actually thought of strangers as lower animals” (HP 202). It is exactly this indifference and enmity for the “Other” that leads to wars and killings. As it is, the narrator has made a similar observation as he says, “The Vietnam War couldn’t have gone on as long as it did, certainly, if it hadn’t been human nature to regard persons I didn’t know and didn’t care to know, even if they were in agony, as insignifi cant” (HP 240). He has experienced too much of this, as a Vietnam veteran and a dismissed professor. The indifference the rich Trustees show to him and to all people not on their social level is the same kind of indifference human eaters show to the veal calves and the lobsters. Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 123

The analogy the Elders of Tralfamadore make in the Earthlings’ treatment of strangers and lower animals in effect illuminates a core issue of animal ethics: speciesism. Because the discriminative treatment of animals on basis of their presumed different and lower status has been legitimized and regarded as normal, the comparison of strangers and any other “inferior” group of people to “lower animals” offers good justifi cation for their inhuman treatment. This is the logic behind much of the human history of atrocity and exploitation. The oppressions of race, gender, class, and species are interlocked, Vonnegut seems to be elucidating to us. Once again, we see the insight of Vonnegut that marks him in alliance with the animal-studies philosophers. Humanism is put at stake. While it assures the exceptionalism of humanity, it has denied ethical standing to other animals and depriving them of the rights that it advocates for humanity, thus humanism exercises the same kind of oppression that it endeavors to fi ght against. However, this discrimination against other animals in due turn undermines the humanistic ideals such as equality and autonomy within the human society. Without redressing the naturalized practices and concepts of speciesism, it is hardly possible for human groups to achieve complete liberation. Vonnegut’s attention to the vicious effects of speciesism will be further dealt with in Chapter Four, in the discussion of Slaughterhouse- Five.

Ⅳ. When Humans Are Hungry: Barbarity in Galapagos

To refute the meat-eating people’s assertion that in eating of fl esh they “follow the conduct and direction of Nature” and that they were born to “an inclination to such food”, Plutarch demands, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 124 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

[…] do you then yourself kill what you would eat. But do it yourself, without the help of a chopping-knife, mallet, or axe—as wolves, bears, and lions do, who kill and eat at once. Rend an ox with thy teeth, worry a hog with thy mouth, tear a lamb or a hare in pieces, and fall on and eat it alive as they do. (156)

In this powerful and ruthless challenge, Plutarch must have felt perfectly secure from counterattack, since he believed that human beings had long past the stage of barbarity. In the course of human history, the capabilities to use tools and to eat meals cooked are counted as important landmarks of humanity and crucial steps for civilization. However, Plutarch had missed an important premise, namely, only when people live in times of comfort and abundance will they eat with civil manners; otherwise, when food is in severe shortage, human beings can be as ferocious as any other predators. So although Plutarch advocates vegetarianism, he does not advocate it for the sake of animal welfare, but for the preservation of humanity. Deep down in his understanding, as in that of many thinkers and philosophers, there is still lingering complacency that human beings are superior to animals. Killing animals by hand and chewing on animals raw can only be a token of beastliness, the retrogression to barbarity. Vonnegut’s novel Galapagos (1985) toys with this assumption. The novel is basically a story of food, a theme that has eluded most critics. Set in the squalid, desperately poor city of Guayaquil, Ecuador, in November 1986, the story smells of hunger from the start. As its backdrop, a world- wide financial crisis is driving many countries bankrupt. When the story opens, the crisis is sweeping across South American countries, pushing millions of people to the brink of starvation. Ecuador, a country mostly of lava and ash, hence highly dependent on foreign investment and tourism, goes bankrupt overnight, leaving its people struggling for survival in hunger pangs. Meanwhile, Peru declares war on Ecuador. Amidst such apocalyptic situations, six characters check in the Hotel El Dorado, an Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 125 oasis of first-world luxury for tourists and business people, to get ready for a trip to the exotic Galapagos Islands, an educational voyage that has been advertised worldwide for several months as the “Nature Cruise of the Century”. Although at the beginning they are safely enclosed in the hotel, each gnawed by their own troubles, they soon fi nd themselves surrounded by starving and restless crowds of local people, who, upon the news that the “Nature Cruise of the Century” is cancelled, eventually break in and loot everything. In a fl urry of fear and desperation, the tourists are sent by the hotel manager to the cruise ship, Bahia de Darwin, on which they start their one- way journey to the Galapagos. Before they get aboard, the ship, a large, newly built luxury liner, is assaulted by a storm of starving and angry mob and has everything stripped of, amenities, equipment, and all the good food prepared for a hundred passengers. So when the main characters board the ship, they are thrown into a dire situation of lacking. Like the local Ecuadorians and millions of people in Africa, Asia, part of Europe, and other South American countries, they are soon faced with the threat of hunger. To verify the signifi cance of food in the human civilization, the ghost narrator says, “Take it from somebody who has been around for a million years [meaning himself]: When you get right down to it, food is practically the whole story every time (G 177)”. After the fashion that characterizes the book, he puts in a famous quotation from Mandarax, the latest development of the pocket computer:

Quoth Mandarax: First comes fodder, then comes morality. Bertolt Brecht (1898—1956) (G 177)

The quotation succinctly and appropriately summarizes a central tension of the novel: Before the food problem is solved, there is no room Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 126 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

for morality. The satirical undertone is obvious and it mocks the human hypocrisy in the name of morality. At the same time, however, it lays bare a stark, existentialist human reality: however advanced human civilization has become, people can become as wild as any other predator when in want of food. A. The Sailors and the Colombianos

The novel depicts four major scenes of food foraging. The fi rst one is a description given to a class of students by Mary Hepburn, one of the six tourists and a middle-aged high school teacher of biology, about how the sailors of the sailing ship era abused the trust of the great land tortoises on the Galapagos Islands:

Sailors would capsize them without fear of being bitten or clawed. Then they would drag them down to waiting longboats on the shore, using the animal’s own useless suits of armor [namely, their hard shell] for sleds. They would store them on their backs in the dark, paying no further attention to them until it was time for them to be eaten. (G 161)

The second is the scene of how the Colombian crewmen of a stranded freighter treat a dairy cow. They have been marooned for weeks at the Guayaquil waterfront for want of means to buy food or fuel and are fi nally provided through illegal commerce with provisions, including a spent dairy cow. The narrator gives a very detailed description of how they hoist the cow aboard from the tug boat:

It was interesting how they hoist her. They didn’t use a sling or a cargo net. They made a rope crown for her, wrapped around and around her horns. They embedded the steel hook at the end of the cable of the crane in the tangled crown. And then the crane operator Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 127

up above reeled in the cable so that the cow was soon dangling in thin air–in an upright position for the fi rst time in her life, with her hind legs splayed, her udder exposed, and with her front legs thrust out horizontally, so that she had the general confi guration of a kangaroo. (G 211)

In the two descriptions, we see the familiar attitude of studied detachment in the representation of cruelty, as we first find in Breakfast of Champions. But this time, there are much stronger shades of sarcasm and indignation. The author, either in the voice of the intelligent and provocative science teacher, or in the voice of the curious spectator-narrator, puts up an appearance of light- heartedness and impassivity at the subject matter, trying to contain his anger. In the case of Mary Hepburn, he actually allows the scientifi c-minded teacher to play with the students’ spontaneous outrage and sentimentalism at the cruelty of human beings in their treatment of “such trusting creatures”. She would wait for them to speak up and then tells them “that the natural order had dealt harshly with such tortoises long before there was such an animal as man” (G 162). Thus the anger and sentiments are played down by scientific objectivity and a note of determinism. In the case of the narrator, the word “interesting” suggests his on- looker perspective in watching the human torture of the animal. However, the exhibition of the suffering and awkwardness of the pathetic creature is so uncivil that he can hardly make a laugh. Whereas he does make a remark that “[t]o certain sorts of big brains back in those days [referring to human beings], her experience with aviation might have been something to laugh about” (G 212), referring to the ungainly posture of the cow dangling in air, with the weight of her entire body depending from her neck, we do not hear his own laughter. Instead, he immediately adds, “She was anything but graceful” (G 212). We can infer his feeling of sorrow for the cow and shame for the human beings. The pronoun “she” instead of “it” intensifi es the signifi cation of inhumanity of the exhibition, with the Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 128 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

implied association of the cow with a human mother. The description of the udder being exposed is particularly shame-ridden, calling to mind the possible humiliation and agony if such cruelty and rudeness is done to a human female. The feeling of sympathy for the cow and anger at the crewmen becomes stronger and more explicit when the narrator goes on to describe the condition of the cow after she is put down.

And when she was set down on the deck of the San Mateo, she was so severely injured that she could no longer stand. But that was to be expected, and perfectly acceptable. Long experience had shown sailors that cattle so treated could go on living for a week or more, would keep their own meat from rotting until it was time for them to be eaten. What had been done to that dairy cow was a shorter version of what used to be done to great land tortoises back in the days of sailing ships. In either case, there was no need for refrigeration. (G 212)

The last sentence in a separate paragraph unmistakably debunks the meanness, selfi shness, and cruelty of humans. According to ethicists, the most immoral behavior is to prolong the suffering of animals unnecessarily. Here, just for the selfi sh desire to eat fresh food and solve the diffi culty of refrigeration, they keep the animal in pain for weeks. As if in an effort to set right the wrong done to the animal, the author has the “happy Colombianos” blown to bits by a rocket while “chewing and swallowing some of that poor cow’s meat” (G 212). Peru has declared war against Ecuador and a fighter-bomber pilot has mistaken San Mateo for the Bahia de Darwin. In a jocular tone, the narrator concludes the story of the cow: “So it might be said that the Colombianos had treated the cow abominably, but that retribution had been done swift and terrible, thanks largely to the big-brained inventors of danger” (G 212). All along Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 129 his narrative, the narrator has been either criticizing or ridiculing the “big brain” of human beings, but here, for the justice of the cow, he makes the fi rst positive remark about it, even though the abhorrence of its dangerous invention is easy to discern. The eating of the land tortoises and the cow is similar in essence to the cases discussed in the two proceeding sections, that is, they are demonstrations of the human cruelty to the other animals. Although the sailors and the Colombianos eat them out of necessity, that they are in earnest need of the animals’ flesh for food, they inflict too much unnecessary pain on the animals, both of whom are entirely defenseless and at their disposal. Moreover, in their extremely disrespectful treatment of the animals, we see clearly the anthropocentric arrogance and the ensuing tendency toward despotic sadism. They gloat over the pain and discomfi ture of the animals when they drag the tortoises on their back and hoist the cow vertically. The more these creatures suffer, the greater their pleasure is. So their cruelty and callousness are even worse than the Cartesian concept of animals as automata. In both cases, Vonnegut’s sympathy for the animals is defi nite. His indignation at the human cruelty is evident. B. The Kanka-bono Girls and Mary Hepburn

In the other two cases of animal killing, however, the situations are more complex. One is the Kanka-bono girls’ killing and eating of Kazakh, Selena’s seeing-eye dog; the other is the killing of the wild animals on the Santa Rosalia Island. As mentioned earlier, the passengers on the ship of Bahia de Darwin soon face the problem of food. It turns out that the Captain of the ship knows nothing about navigation or the exact location of the Galapagos Islands, and the fi rst mate on whom navigation entirely relies has deserted the ship before it set off. What is more, the mob that loots everything on the ship does not spare the compass. As a result, the ship loses its way and Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 130 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

wanders in the sea for days. Finally, everybody begins to consume their own substance. There are ten passengers on the ship besides the Captain. Four are originally booked tourists: Mary Hepburn, the high school teacher with a master’s degree in zoology; Selena MacIntosh, a blind, 18-year-old girl with a seeing-eye dog Kazakh; Hisako Hiroguchi, a Japanese woman of 26, large with baby; James Wait, a con-man who has swindled 17 widows of their money and is unluckily struck by a heart attack while escaping the mob, which claims his life not long after the ship sets off. The other two guests at the Hotel El Dorado, Zenji Hiroguchi, Hisako’s computer-genius husband, and Andrew MacIntoch, Selena’s rich father, are both killed accidentally by a soldier that is overtaken by a fit of schizophrenia. The other passengers on the ship are six Kanka-bono girls, ranging in age from 5 to 9. Mary runs into them in the Hotel El Dorado where they are asking for food from James Wait. They are orphans of poor Native Indian parents who are killed by the pesticide the white people spray from airplanes onto the Amazon rainforest. Judging from this cast, one fact is clear, that is, none of these passengers, except the Captain, are physically robust and fi t for survival. However, it turns out that these people become the last tribe of humanity and are to become the ancestors of the future mankind–a joke Vonnegut plays with Darwin’s theory of natural selection. After the ship has churned in the sea for fi ve days, everybody becomes “ravenous”. In the eye of the ghost narrator who has no need for food, the passengers are now “slaves of fear and hunger” (G 253). Then Kazakh, the seeing-eye dog of Selena, is missing. Without any pretense of suspense, the narrator tells us that it is killed by the Kanka-bono girls. The description he gives is gruesome:

The Kanka-bono girls had stolen her while Selena slept, and choked her with their bare hands, and skinned and gutted her with no other tools than their teeth and fi ngernails. They had roasted her Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 131

in an oven. Nobody else knew that they had done that yet. (G 243)

This is almost the very barbarity with which Plutarch challenges the self-complacent meat-eating people, with the only exception that the girls roast the meat before eating instead of gnawing it raw. The barbarity is particularly intensifi ed in view of the dog’s gentleness: Kazakh is a very obedient dog, never barks or makes trouble; when Selena sleeps on the ship, she uses the dog as her pillow. Nevertheless, despite all the tender descriptions of Kazakh’s amiability and intimate relation with Selena, the narrator shows little intention to accuse the Kanka-bono girls or sentimentalize for the dog. He does make a reference to the Kanka-bono girls’ insensibility, ten pages later, by saying that “the Kanka-bono girls were gnawing the bones of their innocent sister Kazakh” (G 252), making the killing and eating comparable to cannibalism. Yet, somehow the mood of anger and sadness is deliberately constrained. Immediately after the narration of the dog’s death, the narrator puts in, “She had been consuming her own substance anyway. By the time they killed her, she was skin and bones” (G 243). In other words, the dog is not having a gorgeous time anyway. The killing only ends her suffering faster. He then makes a long speculation about the possible destiny of the dog, if the girls hadn’t killed her. Even if she survived the hunger and made it to the Santa Rosalia Island, he says, “she wouldn’t have had much of a future—even in the unlikely event that there had been a male dog there”, because “[s]he had been neutered, after all” (G 243). The best she would accomplish is to give Hisako’s baby soon to be born “infantile memories of a dog”. “Under the best of circumstances,” the narrator goes on,

Kazakh would not have lived long enough for the other children born on the island to pet her, and to see her wag her tail and so on. They wouldn’t have had her bark to remember, since Kazakh never barked. (G 243) Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 132 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

What the narrator seems to be driving at, I think, is that the dog does not suffer much loss from the death. After all, she is not living a full life as a dog even when she is alive. As the narrator remarks in another place, “Kazakh, thanks to surgery and training, had virtually no personality” (G 98). She is merely a symbol of the dog, to say the best. The narrator’s emphasis that the dog is neutered and that she never barks brings us back to an earlier chapter where Kazakh is fi rst introduced to us:

Kazakh never barked or played with other dogs or investigated interesting smells or noises or chased animals which had been the natural prey of her ancestors because, when she was a puppy, big- brained human beings had showed her hate and withheld food whenever she did any of those things. They let her know from the fi rst that that was the kind of planet she was on: that natural canine activities were against the law—all of them. They removed her sex organs so that she would never be distracted by sexual urgencies […] (G 47-8)

The description is a report of the typical practice of domestication and pet keeping. Behind the docility on the part of the animal and the affection on the part of the owner, there is horrible cruelty and manipulation for the advantage of dominance. In view of this, it becomes clear that what deprives Kazakh of the worth of living, instead of the Kanka-bono girls, is her white masters. As a matter of fact, the earlier descriptions of Kazakh sound much more critical than the depiction of the Kanka-bono girls’ killing. To utilize her as a seeing-eye dog, human beings have confi scated all the joy she is entitled to by nature, turning her into a mere eye-seeing tool, always “wearing her harness and handle” (G 78). The abuse is hardly better than the killing. In its function of leaving “infantile memories of a dog”, Kazakh is paralleled to the Indiana state park that Mary Hepburn took as “a living Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 133 museum” of wilderness when she was young (G 222). It is a “patch of what the area used to be before Europeans decreed that no plant or animal would be tolerated which was not tamed and edible by humankind” (G 222). To a larger extent, the Kanka-bono girls also belong to the category of token. Before the six girls make their appearance, there are constant references to the “elusive Kanka-bonos” (G 84, 113, 119, 120). We are told that it is an indigenous tribe living in the Ecuadorian rainforest, being encroached by the white civilization and pushed close to extinction. To make use of their exotic folk culture for commercial advertisement, the American tour agency has arranged the characteristic Kanka-bono fi re dance as a feature performance to entertain the guests for the “Nature Cruise of the Century”. The Kanka-bonos are predominantly Indian, but they have Negro ancestors as well—“African slaves who had escaped into the rain forest long ago” (G 153). Therefore, the Kanka-bonos are the living monument of all the sins the white oppressors have committed: slavery, colonialism, imperialism, and the capitalistic economic exploitation. When Mary finds the six girls in the Hotel El Dorado, they are the only survivors of the tribe. All the rest are killed by insecticides sprayed from the air. So like Kazakh and the Indian state park, the Kanko-bono girls are the remnants of history, the only samples of an extinct species. More signifi cantly, like the dog and the park, they are the incarnation of imperialist oppression, the victim of the hegemonic ideology of supremacy of the white Europeans over the natives, of culture over nature, of man over the beast. In this sense, precisely, the Kanka-bono girls and Kazakh are truly sisters. Another important factor that makes the Kanka-bono girls’ killing of the dog tolerable is that they kill when they are extremely hungry. They kill out of the basic need for food. For the same reason, Mary Hepburn and the Captain become bloodless killers on the Galapagos Island. When Mary Hepburn fi nally spots land after days of straying in the Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 134 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

boundless ocean, the passengers of Bahia de Darwin are overjoyed. The fi rst thing that comes to the mind of the Captain is to see if the island is populated by animals “he and the others could cook and eat” (G 259). Once ashore, he and Mary Hepburn reap a harvest, using Mary’s blouse and James Wait’s shirt for “grocery bags”:

They wrung the necks of boobies. They caught land iguanas by their tails, and beat them to death on black boulders. And it was during this carnage that Mary would scratch herself, and a fearless vampire fi nch would take its fi rst sip of human blood. (G 260-1)

That night, the starving passengers “had quite a feast” on the Bahia de Darwin:

There were roasted land iguanas stuffed with crabmeat and minced fi nches. There were roasted boobies stuffed with their own eggs and basted with melted penguin fat. It was perfectly delicious. Everybody was happy again. (G 261-2)

The next morning, the Captain and Mary go ashore again, and this time they take the Indian girls along. They go for another food gathering.

They all killed and killed, and hauled corpses and hauled corpses, until the ship’s freezer contained, in addition to James Wait [who is dead for quite some time now, of heart attack], enough birds and iguanas and eggs to last for a month, if necessary. Now they had not only plenty of fuel and water, but no end of food, and good food, too, as well. (G 262)

It is curious to note that for such elaborate and intensive description of the killing and gathering, all of Vonnegut scholars and critics remain negligent. None of them has given much attention to the details. The reason for their neglect, I think, is due to their stubborn preoccupation with Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 135 the “human affairs” only, with the kaleidoscopic thematic concerns that crisscross the novel. After all, there are enough human-centered themes to deal with: war, madness, injustice, deception, technology, racism, and above all, the “big human brain”. For most of the critics and scholars, the scene of killing on the island is simply a minor detail that counts for little. In light of animal studies, however, no images of animals can be dismissed as unimportant. The ubiquity of animals in Galapagos insistently demands our full attention. A close look at them may reveal clues to new aspects of the book or insights to the understanding of the main themes. After all, there is another prominent theme in the novel—evolution and natural selection. There can be three levels of speculation in regard to the scenes of killing on Santa Rosalia. Firstly, on the level of basic needs, like the Kanka-bono girls’ killing of Kazakh, Mary Hepburn’s and the Captain’s killing of the island inhabitants is fully justifiable, because it is conducted out of sheer necessity. What they do properly conforms to the natural law. There is enough discussion of their hunger to prepare us for what is going to happen. In Chapter 33, when the narrator makes a mention of the Maine lobsters preserved in the hold of the Bahia de Darwin, he says, “There was this about them, at any rate: They were like human beings in that they could eat almost anything, if they had to” (G 183). The savage way the Kanka-bono girls kill Kazakh also foreshadows further bloody killing, under extreme conditions, which is severe hunger in the passengers’ case. On this level, there seems little room for ethical judgment. As the quotation from Bertolt Brecht goes, “First comes fodder, then comes morality” (G 177). However, from the perspective of the island animals, the coming of the human killers is undoubtedly a disaster. Living on the island in peace and isolation for millions of years, these animals have never seen a predator and they are not prepared for one. They have never been so Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 136 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

madly slaughtered. Even during the sailing boat period, the species that is most likely to be hurt is limited to the great land tortoise. At least in the novel, there is no mentioning of other species that are exploited. But Mary Hepburn and the Captain spare nobody but the ugly marine iguanas, “believing them to be inedible” (G 261). To the defenseless island animals, they are no other than ferocious invaders and bloodless slaughterers. The Galapagos Archipelago is located in the Pacific Ocean on the Equator. It is famous for the diversity and uniqueness of its animal species. The land tortoises, the marine and land iguanas, the fi nches, the blue-footed boobies, the frigate birds, the fl ightless cormorants, and the penguins are all characteristic animals on the island. Kurt Vonnegut had a fascination with the place and actually made a personal visit to it in 1982. The defenselessness and seeming stupidity of the blue-footed boobies amazed him. More than once did he express this amazement. In a speech made two months after his return at St. John the Devine cathedral in New York, for example, he joked about “those beautiful and fearless and utterly stupid seabirds the defenseless blue-footed boobies”, “I could have unscrewed their heads, if I had wanted to” (FWTD 141-2). Even before the visit, in the 1979 novel, Jailbird, he has the hapless protagonist Starbuck muse over the unexpected friendliness in a New York coffee shop:

I thought to myself, “My goodness—these waitresses and cooks are as unjudgmental as the birds and lizards on the Galapagos Islands, off Ecuador.” I was able to make the comparison because I had read about these peaceful islands in prison, in a National Geographic loaned to me by the former lieutenant governor of Wyoming. The creatures there had had no enemies, natural or unnatural, for thousands of years. The idea of anybody wanting to hurt them was inconceivable to them. (J 123)

Maybe out of sheer mischief, six years later, in Galapagos, Vonnegut Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 137 introduced a group of the most dangerous predators for these innocent animals. It turns out that the humans kill them just like cutting off crops. Their innocence and trust are the very weaknesses that invite their doom. In an ironical note, the narrator observes, “These birds would later become crucial to the survival of the little human colony on Santa Rosalia. If those birds hadn’t been so stupid, so incapable of learning that human beings were dangerous, the first settlers would almost certainly have starved to death” (G 104). It is rather uncertain how to take this observation: should we be thankful for the birds’ stupidity? Or should we be ashamed for the fi ctional human ancestors’ taking advantage of the trusting birds? Since this is fi ction, Vonnegut, I think, wants to use this killing scenario to illuminate just how cruel and heartless human beings can be. This leads to the third level of understanding. Even though the humans kill out of sheer necessity, their manners of killing are appalling. The choice of words such as “wring the necks of”, “catch by their tails”, “beat to death on black boulders”, and “carnage” all denote strong, unambiguous meaning of merciless slaughtering, primitivism, atrocity, and barbarity. Again, as in the case of the Kanka-bono girls, Mary Hepburn and the Captain give a literal demonstration of what Plutarch considers impossible for humanity. To be sure, they do not have any tools to help them to kill more “civilly”. Yet still, they are best incarnations of what human beings are capable of. The point to note is that Mary Hepburn is a biological teacher, a master in zoology. She knows very well and better than most people that the animals on the Galapagos Islands are precious for their biological signifi cance and are worthy of respect. Every year, she teaches her students about the mystery and beauty of life on the islands, the knowledge of which wins her the nickname of “Mother Nature Personified”. It is her well- informed facility about the islands that helps them identify that the one they fi nally land on is Santa Rosalia. On the part of the Captain, although he is not as knowledgeable as Mary Hepburn, as a leading fi gure for the “Nature Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 138 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Cruise of the Century”, he is well-informed about the rules of the tour, that visitors have to be supervised at all times and “no good citizen of the planet […] should ever go ashore unless escorted by a well-trained guide” (G 101). The point is to protect the animals and their “fragile habitats”. It is reported in the National Geographic magazine as part of the propaganda that “Ecuador would require a navy the size of the combined fl eets of the world to keep persons from going ashore on the islands and doing as they pleased, so that the fragile habitats would be preserved only if individuals were educated to exercise self-restraint” (G 101). How, then, can these people behave so rudely and carelessly when they walk ashore Santa Rosalia? The narrator gives a clue. He foretells in Chapter 18 that for the fi rst few years of their marooned life on the island, Mary Hepburn and the others “would raise perfect hell with frail habitat”. Further on, he says, “Just in the nick of time they realized that it was their own habitat they were wrecking—that they weren’t merely visitors” (G 101). In other words, it is in the belief that they will only temporarily stay on the island that Mary and the Captain carelessly trample on the environment. Here the narrator actually expresses an important thinking of Vonnegut, that the root cause behind the human destruction of the the beautiful planet Earth is the attitude that we are here as visitors, not stewards of our own home. He considers the American outer space project very irresponsible because what they propagate in the search of another inhabitable planet only encourages people to feel guilt-free of the damage they are doing since there is always another, better place to go to if this one becomes no longer inhabitable. There is a more important revelation that the killing scenario on Santa Rosalia leads to. It poses a challenge to the traditional concepts of human nature. Plutarch is not alone in his belief that humanity has passed the stage of savagery, and that humans are supposed to behave more civilized. and Aristotle have all expressed similar thinking. As a matter of fact, from Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 139 most ancient Greek philosophers downward, the predominant thinking of the Western culture is that humanity has arrived at a stage high above the natural world. The Christian concept that God creates man as different from the rest of creatures and grants him the power of dominion over nature further reinforced the belief. By the 18th century Enlightenment, human supremacy over nature is fi rmly established. In Galapagos, one of the characters expresses a view that is in the legacy of this tradition. Roy Hepburn, Mary’s husband who dies of a brain tumor, leaves his deathbed revelation to his wife,

“I’ll tell you what the human soul is, Mary,” he whispered, his eyes closed. “Animals don’t have one. It’s the part of you that knows when your brain isn’t working right. I always knew, Mary. There wasn’t anything I could do about it, but I always knew.” (G 44)

Roy is a nice man, a great lover of animals. Before he makes this final declaration we would never think that he fosters such dichotomous conception about animals. That humans have a soul but animals don’t is a standard Cartesian understanding. Roy’s belief in it is a good illustration of how strong and detrimental the infl uence of such thinking is. However, Vonnegut eventually subverts this comfortable division. The heartless killing of Mary Hepburn and the Captain, together with that of the Kanka- bono girls, can all be appropriately described as “brutal, primitive, ruthless, cruel, and excessive”. Their instinctive motives offer no legitimacy of such barbarity, if judging in the mode of the dominant Western ideology. They are supposed to maintain the control of either their brain or their soul, even if they are driven by the pangs of hunger and the fear of death. What they demonstrate is a degree of barbarity that is no different from other animals. The man is no better than the “beast”. Ironically, all the “beasts” in the novel are none of them ferocious killers, but tame, innocent, trusting creatures living in harmony with each other and with the environment, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 140 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

probably with the only exception of the shark that swallows Mary Hepburn and the Captain in the end of the story. The dividing line is thus subtly but determinedly blurred. Mary Midgley incisively points out in her seminal book, Beast and Man (1979), that in the history of Western philosophy, people tend to take over the popular notions of lawless cruelty which underlies such terms as “brutal”, “bestial”, “beastly”, “animal desires”, etc. and use it uncritically as a contrast to illuminate the nature of man. This contrast is groundless because much of the understanding of the animal world is misconceived. So she concludes, “Man has been mapped by reference to a landmark that is largely mythical.” In contrast to their understanding of the animal world, man, the civilized Western man, has always maintained that “in a bloodthirsty world he alone was comparatively harmless”. Because of this prejudicial projection of the world, he never sees the parallel between the wolf’s hunting him and his hunting the deer. He is always superior, regardless. “[…] man has always been unwilling to admit his own ferocity, and has tried to defl ect attention from it by marking animals out to be more ferocious than they are” (Midgley 1995: 26, 28, 30). In light of this understanding, we can see that what Kurt Vonnegut has done is something indeed radical. He debunks the human complacency of supremacy and exposes its hypocritical nature. Through the vivid descriptions of the killing of animals, the sailors killing of the tortoises, the Colombianos killing of the cow, the Kanka-bono girls’ killing of the dog, and Mary Hepburn’s killing of the innocent boobies, as well as the juxtaposition of slaughtering scenes that the narrator puts in about the Vietnam war, Vonnegut shows us, with his characteristic brutal honesty, how cruel humans can be. In a broader sense, the tableau of Mary Hepburn and the Captain landing on the island from a modern ship and then bent on chopping whatever “lower animals” that are handy brings to mind a scene that Chapter 2 Meat-eating: A Case of Humanity’s Inhumanity 141

Vonnegut presents many a time, in Galapagos as well as many other books, the scene of how the white colonizers fi rst landed on the American continent and robbed the land from the Native Americans, who had been living there for thousands of years. In effect, as the story of the Kanka- bono girls indicates, the exploitation is still going on. The honest depiction of the brutal butchering, then, serves a double role of castigation: of both the human cruelty to the other animals and the white European imperialists’ unscrupulousness and inhumanity in their treatment of the native people. Galapagos is a novel with which Vonnegut intends to remedy the wrongs of humankind and rebuild the Garden of Eden. But to rebuild the Garden, the human race has to first of all establish a correct self- understanding. By acknowledging the human barbarity, the old defi nition of humanity is enormously undermined. The stage is set ready for the birth of the new human. Chapter 3

Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness

Human beings have been in close contact with animals for thousands of years. At first, it was in the form of hunting and being hunted, in the process of which humans had developed great amount of knowledge about animals and admiration for their wisdom. When around 10,000 B.C. the nomadic hunter-gatherers began to settle down and develop farming, domestication followed (Soave 4). From domestication arose pet-keeping. This is the history which John Berger refers to as the long period when animals were “with man at the center of his world” (Berger 1). During this history, domestic animals played a vast range of roles: surrogate companions, siblings, lovers, victims, workers, parents, competitors, deities, oracles, enemies, kinfolk, and caretaker-watchmen. They are makers of manure, milk, meat, and skins, as well as sacrificial offerings and symbolic and aesthetic objects (Shepard 142). Human dependence on animals is therefore thorough and multifaceted, not only materially and physically, but also culturally, socially, spiritually, and psychologically. They count on animals for food, clothing, transport, labor, sport, adornment, companionship, and mental and spiritual wholeness. The Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 143 quotation from Indian Chief Sealth of the now state of Washington well delineates the importance of animals to humans: “The white man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers. What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of spirits. For whatever happens to the beasts also happens to man. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth” (qtd. in Soave 3). Nevertheless, this rich and intimate relationship underwent drastic changes in the West during the century between 1850 and 1950, when industrialization and urbanization gradually replaced the open, embracing, agricultural landscape with the confi ning, crowded, and segmented city. Nature was pushed farther and farther away from the human horizon. Animals, wild and domestic, became less and less the common experiences of men, women and children. There arose, to borrow a word from Shepard, a “biological void” in the urban existence (Shepard 143). The human contact with animals was reduced to chiefl y two forms: the meat and the pet. Meanwhile, the traditional family structures disintegrated and America entered the era of nuclear family. The typical family consists of two parents and a couple of children, usually living away from relatives. Due to the stresses of life in the industrialized city and increased mobility, the middle classes began to have fewer children, for whom the household could be a lonely place. Without siblings and without easy access to street friends, children are left with nobody but stuffed toys (usually in the imitation of animals) and the pet to turn to for companionship and emotional consolation. For adults, loneliness was equally an unavoidable and unbearable condition, as the modern society began to “segment and isolate people into their private spheres, to discourage casual physical contact, and to frown upon the enormously satisfying stances of patronage, such as laying one’s hand on another’s shoulder” (Tuan 112). As a consequence of the social transformation, people’s dependence Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 144 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

on the pet grew unprecedentedly. Whereas the entertaining and decorative qualities of pets were highly valued in the late Victorian age and the fi rst half of the 20th century, since the 1960s, greater emphasis was given to their companionability (Franklin 88-9). In terms of dogs, for example, breeds such as poodles, Pekingese, and pugs that were regarded as fashionable ornaments and playthings in the Victorian age gave way to breeds with heightened companionable and social characteristics, such as Labradors retrievers and spaniels, or Rottweilers, Dobermans, Staffordshire bull terriers, and German Shepherds, all of which are dogs notable for antisocial guarding or fighting breed characteristics but also a reputation for being extremely loyal to a single person or principal carer, “a feature consistent with increased needs for companionship, particularly among people living alone” (Franklin 94). This is a good place to put in a note that, in Vonnegut’s fi ction, the dogs are always in the latter category: the German shepherd, as in Slaughterhouse-Five and Galapagos (Selena’s dog), the mastiff, as Beatrice’s dog skeleton and Rumfoord’s famous dog in The Sirens of Titan, the golden retriever, as the dog of Mary Hepburn in Galapagos, or the Doberman and the Labrador retriever, both in Breakfast of Champions. There is only one occasion that a decorative dog is assigned to a character, a Pekingese of a “puffy old woman” in Jailbird, and this is definitely for ridicule, as the dog is described as a replica of her elderly owner: they both are wearing a diamond necklace (J 106). According to John Berger who wrote in 1977, it is estimated that there were at least forty million dogs, forty million cats, fifteen million caged birds and ten million other pets in America (12). Yi-fu Tuan also notes that more than half of the households in America have a dog or a cat or both and every year some six billion dollars are spent on pets, not to mention the lavish care given to them (88). Pets offer companionship for the lonely, assistance for the handicapped, prolonged life expectancy for the sick, and therapy for the unhappy (Franklin 84). Increasing amount of research show Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 145 that companion animals possess therapeutic functions, the practice of which is known as “animal-facilitated therapy” (Shepard 147-49). Leo Bustad, Professor of Western Washington University’s Department of Veterinary Medicine, confi dently asserts, “We believe that the health of our society is dependent on the nature and the extent of the association between people and other animals and their environment.” In his own medicinal practice and teaching, Prof. Bustad recommends pets of various kinds to be present everywhere in the working place (Shepard 149). Pets, or companion animals, therefore, have become an indispensible relation for humans in the modern life. Residing in the pet is the human ontological dependence for companionship, warmth, and affection. Moreover, being both natural and unnatural, as most pets are genetically altered by human manipulation, pets play the dual role as both living creatures and symbolic tokens, and the latter role is often stressed in the depiction of the human condition in the postmodern world, its incompleteness, fragmentation, alienation, anxiety, and loneliness. This is one of the major roles that the large number of pet animals play in Vonnegut’s fi ctional world, a leading characteristic of which is loneliness.

In the 1980 interview with Charles Reilly, Vonnegut remarked,

I don’t pretend to be an expert but, really, I’m not that soured on the American economic system. I think most Americans’ discomfort is social in nature, not economic. We don’t have a severe food problem, for example. Admittedly we have a shocking number of people who are hungry, but they represent a small percentage of the population. When you speak about the major problems of America, I think you have to concede that food and shelter are fairly well taken care of. At the same time, I feel that people today are terribly lonely. In fact, as I proposed to Shriver when he was running for Vice- Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 146 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

president, a candidate who ran on the promise of “Lonesome No More” would win an awful lot of votes. It was my thought that the people of this country would be well served by a project in which we could re- form ourselves into artifi cially extended families. (CKV 224)

Unlike the voice in his novels that is oftentimes characterized by satire, cynicism and irony, Vonnegut is all seriousness in his interviews. In the above quoted interview, he makes it clear that the problem in America is not economic but social. Put it in another way, loneliness is at the core of all American social problems. This is not the fi rst time Vonnegut had talked about loneliness as an American social malaise. In his 1973 Playboy interview, for example, he complained about America being “a lonesome society that’s been fragmented by the factory system” (CKV 79). Lamenting the demise of the traditional extended family when people can always go to visit relatives for help, comfort, or simply a change of life, he said,

And this is no longer possible. Each family is locked into its little box. The neighbors aren’t relatives. There aren’t other houses where people can go and be cared for. When Nixon is pondering what’s happening to America—“Where have all the old values gone?” and all that—the answer is perfectly simple. We’re lonesome. (CKV 80)

Loneliness is at the heart of the American life—this is the overarching theme in almost all of Vonnegut’s fiction. Despite the vast diversity of specific concerns in individual novels, be it the brutality of war, the dehumanization of technology, the danger of amoral science, the oppression and injustice of political-economic capitalism, etc., the feeling of loneliness permeates every page of the novels and enwraps oppressively the hapless protagonists. Billy Pilgrim, Paul Proteus, Winston Niles Rumfoord, Howard W. Campbell, Wilbur Swain, Kilgore Trout, and Eugene Debs Hartke are all Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 147 such characters. No matter how hard they try, they can hardly succeed in casting off the shadow of loneliness that shrouds them. Their loneliness might derive from various causes, traumatic experiences of butchering, wartime killing, survivor guilt, or simply unaccountable discontentment with life, but deep down beneath these empirical factors, there lays one thing in common, namely, the failure of relationships and a yearning for emotional completeness. “Locked into their little boxes,” these characters are all lonely hearts that are isolated, not only from society and the natural world, but also their own folks. As Peter Reed notes, Vonnegut’s marriages seldom seem to work well, and frequently they tend to lock out their associations. “Vonnegut implies that the modern model mini- family of Mom, Dad, Dick, Jane, and Spot fails where the larger family unit once succeeded,” Reed observes, “Mom and Dad may have a strained relationship, Dick and Jane may be cut off from the parents, and only Spot remains capable of uncritical affection” (1977: 180) Spot, of course, is the family dog. Unable to fi nd human fellowship in the disintegrating family or the larger, estranging, sterile postmodern society, Vonnegut’s characters turn involuntarily to the animal. In a large proportion of Vonnegut’s novels, the protagonist is emphatically introduced with an animal companion on his/her side, which, more often than not, is the uncritical dog. “The man and his dog”, therefore, with its rich classic allusions, could best sum up the human condition of loneliness in the postmodern world. Three types of relation are examined in light of this relation: wife and husband, father and son, brother and sister.

Ⅰ. The Sirens of Titan: Hatred Between Wife and Husband

If the epithet “the man and his dog” is to be applied to a particular Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 148 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

character, it is the leading hero of The Sirens of Titan (1959)—Winston Niles Rumfoord. Projected as a legendary, god-like fi gure, Rumfoord never makes his appearance, or in the Vonnegutian parlance, “materializes”, without his dog. As a matter of fact, the fi rst time Rumfoord is introduced to the audience, at the very outset of the story, he is referred to exactly as “a man and his dog”:

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 fi rst, becoming, fi nally, as substantial as any man and dog alive. (ST 8)

Throughout the novel, Rumfoord is mentioned together with his dog, whose name is Kazak, a big mastiff also referred to as “the hound of the space” (ST 19). The man and his dog come and go like form and shadow. The closeness of them is so emphatically repeated that “Rumfoord and his dog” almost becomes a fi xed compound and many scholars follow the pattern in their discussion of the novel. It seems imperative that the dog should not be omitted. It is doubtful, however, whether scholars seriously attribute much significance to the dog, because very few of them has given actual critical attention to the dog, taking him mainly as a tag of an expression. The dog surely plays more important roles. He is the sole companion of Winston Niles Rumfoord when he plunges into an uncharted chrono- synclastic infundibulum while taking his private spaceship to Mars. Both man and dog exist as wave phenomenon after that, “apparently pulsing in a distorted spiral with its origin in the Sun and its terminal in Betelgeuse” (ST 13). They materialize at fixed intervals on different planets: every fifty-nine days on Earth, every one hundred and eleven days on Mars, and every fourteen days on Mercury, constantly suffering from dispersion Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 149 and distortion in the warped space and from sickness caused by storms of sunspots. In a word, the dog Kazak is the only sharer of the pain and loneliness of Rumfoord in his exile in the solar galaxy. In the discussion of the relation between Robinson Crusoe and his dogs on the island, a classic case of “the man and his dog”, Philip Armstrong identifi es the emotional bond between the man and the animal as “sympathetic identifi cation” (P. Armstrong 40). He argues that the dogs (there are two of them, the second coming after the death of the first) provide the strongest and most enduring sympathetic identifi cation between the human and non-human because “they offer the most vivid mirrors for the emotions and experiences of their human companion”. Like Crusoe, they are travellers, shipwreck survivors and castaways; and like Crusoe prior to the arrival of Friday, they are isolates, devoid of the company of their own kind (P. Armstrong 40). This is, to a great extent, the case of Rumfoord and Kazak, too. Both man and dog are in a rum situation, condemned to eternal fl oating in space, materializing now on this planet, now on that, and subject to nausea and partial atomization whenever there are sunspots. That they rely on each other is not hard to imagine. The description of a tableau of the two in the eye of Salo, Rumfoord’s Tralfamadorian robot friend on Titan, a moon of Saturn where Rumfoord and Kazak have a permanent dwelling because of synchronous spirals of Rumfoord, Kazak, and Titan, gives a good illustration of their intimacy and mutual resemblance:

It was unusual for Rumfoord not to be snoozing in his chair, for Kazak not to be snoozing beside it. Man and dog spent most their time by the pool, monitoring signals from their other selves through space and time. Rumfoord was usually motionless in his chair, the fi ngers of one languid, dangling hand buried in Kazak’s coat. Kazak was usually whimpering and twitching dreamingly. (ST 278) Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 150 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

This is one of the most peaceful home scenes in literature. However, such peace and the sensation and semi-divinity that their materialization evoke among the earthlings are only surface story. It becomes clear in the latter part of the novel that the life of Rumfoord and his dog is not always easy and awesome. In their last materialization on Titan, both dog and man are described as in great pain. The pain of the dog, as a mirror of his master, is particularly detailed:

Kazak, the hound of space, answered [Salo’s] call. Kazak came from the domed and minareted building that was reflected in the pool. Kazak came stiffl y from the lacy shadows of the great octagonal chamber within. Kazak looked poisoned. Kazak shivered, and stared fixedly at a point to one side of Salo. There was nothing there. Kazak stopped, and seemed to be preparing himself for a terrible pain that another step would cost him. And then Kazak blazed and cracked with Saint Elmo’s fi re. […] The luminous discharge from Kazak was horrifying to watch. And it renewed the stench of ozone. Kazak did not move. His capacity for surprise at the amazing display had long since been exhausted. He tolerated the blaze with tired rue. (ST 279)

The deliberate repetition of the “Kazak + verb” structure draws immediate attention to the severe pain the animal is suffering. Being closer to nature and more susceptible to natural catastrophe, Kazak the dog experiences stronger agony in the hands of nature, and his suffering gives a good illustration of the suffering of the man. Man and dog are going through severe attacks of a strong explosion in the sun. It turns out Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 151 that the storm has disturbed their infundibulum and they are soon to be blown clear from the solar system. More signifi cantly, this time, the dog is separated from the man and they are never to be reunited. “A Universe schemed in mercy would have kept man and dog together,” the narrator laments, “The Universe inhabited by Winston Niles Rumfoord and his dog was not schemed in mercy. Kazak had been sent ahead of his master on the great mission to nowhere and nothing” (ST 295). What is left of the dog is the empty choke chain in the weak hands of Rumfoord. Deprived even of his most faithful companion, god-like Rumfoord becomes a wretched and pathetic sight to look at. Most of the studies of The Sirens of Titan focus on the employment of the science fi ction mode and the theme of meaninglessness of the universe and absurdity of human existence. Whereas these are defi nitely the most salient features and themes of the novel, another aspect, probably minor in prominence but nonetheless worthy of consideration and contributive to the major concerns, is the theme of family and human loneliness. The novel depicts four families: that of Rumfoord and Beatrice, of Constant Malachi (Unk on Mars), of Boaz, and of Chrono (son of Constant and Beatrice on Mars). In comparison to the marriage of Rumfoord and Beatrice that serves as the central framework of the story, the accounts of the family life of the other three characters are slim, but they share certain qualities. First, the emphasis lies in their childhood and none of their childhood is happy; second, none of them has a complete, fulfi lling family life. Constant was born from a single visit of a prostitute to his wealthy but reclusive father. Boy and father have met only once—on account of the peculiarity of the father who provided for the mother and son but would not live with them—and the brief meeting is summoned by the father on the boy’s twenty-fi rst birthday, only to tell the son the secret of the handling of his stock investment. When Constant the young man shows some interest in a picture of himself as a three year old taken on a beach, Neol, the father, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 152 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

finds himself so “confused and embarrassed by the whole thing about fathers and sons” that he abruptly puts an end to the meeting (ST 82). Constant inherits three billion dollars from his father and lives a life of the playboy, but he is unhappy. “In the depression that always followed his taking of alcohol, narcotics, and women, Constant pined for just one thing– a single message that was suffi ciently dignifi ed and important to merit his carrying it humbly between two points” (ST 17). In effect, the memory of his “strange childhood” is so persistent that even after seven “brainwashing” operations on Mars, bits of it are still alive in a untouched corner, about his daydreaming of “at least seeing and loving a father who did not want to see him, who did not want to be loved by him” (ST 147). Had he a better guided childhood and supportive, enriching family experiences, we may infer, Constant might not feel so purposeless and meaningless. Material riches cannot fill up the spiritual void that an incomplete family often incurs. Likewise, Boaz and Chrono also suffer from shattered families. Boaz is an orphan and is only fourteen when he is recruited by the Martian agents. Pathetically, “he didn’t have the haziest notion as to how to have a good time on Earth” (ST 119). Before the Martian invasion to Earth, he finds himself “wretchedly dependent on Unk”, even though he is one of the real commanders of the Martian army and has the control of the human robots enlisted from Earth, for “Unk had everything back on Earth, and Boaz had had nothing” (ST 119). His limited experience and imagination enable him only to aspire to go in and out of “Hollywood night clubs” as the “maximum ” on Earth (ST 120). Confused about how he lands the fortunate position as an actual commander of the Martian army, Boaz is “worried sick” about losing the job and cannot forebear torturing the soldiers in the most willful and cruel way. He is no better than a “torturing machine” even though he is endowed with free will. The meaning of freedom for him never goes beyond the control box in his pocket that sends Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 153 impulses to the antennae implanted in the heads of Rumfoord’s human robots. What is worse, the freedom to torture others does not provide him with a sense of satisfaction. Contrarily, he feels extremely bored and meaningless. It is not until he finds companionship and dependence in the harmoniums on Mercury that he achieves serenity and contentment— finally he has something that depends on him and a place where he can “do good without doing any harm” (ST 213-4). The way he imagines the harmoniums calling him “Papa Boaz” and “Uncle Boaz” suggests that he fi nds family with the boneless creatures and this, in return, gives him meaning of life. Although imprisoned in the dark caves of Mercury, Boaz thrives on the “love” of the harmoniums and prospers both physically and emotionally. In a sense, it is the feel of family at work. Chrono was born on Mars. Although he has both parents, they never live as family on Mars. The brainwashes have deprived Beatrice (Bee on Mars) and Unk-Constant of any memory of their earthly past. Besides, Beatrice never has high opinions of Constant any way. It is by shameless force that Beatrice is impregnated, not love or marriage. Predictably, the eight-year childhood on Mars renders Chrono emotionally impoverished. He is sullen, unaccountably enraged and aggressive, and unresponsive to affection. When Unk-Constant risks his life to fi nd him and tell him that he is Chrono’s father, Chrono replies stonily, “So what?” When Unk is so hurt hearing his son ask him to “go to hell” that he weeps, the boy is appalled. “He had never seen a man weep before. He never wept himself.” So he cried wildly and run out of the offi ce (ST 146-7). Like Neol the father of Constant, Chrono is embarrassed and terrified by the open expression of love and emotion. Both are emotionally crippled. What is fortunate for Chrono is that he is young and has better chances of growing up into a full, well-balanced man. As it turns out, this happens in his life on Titan. In an earlier discussion, we have come to a point that Rumfoord is lonely, but his loneliness is mainly self-induced. Like young Chrono and Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 154 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Neol, Rumfoord is also emotionally deficient. However, while Chrono’s emotional handicap is due to a lack of education of love and Neol’s is mostly because of the lack in experience of love, Rumfoord’s emotional deficiency is hard to explain. He is presented as simply incapable of love. When Salo the robot breaks into tears at the news that Rumfoord is going to be cleared out of the Solar System, Rumfoord becomes very nervous: “ ‘No, no—no pity, please,’ he says, stepping back, afraid of being touched” (ST 287). In his relationship with Kazak, we don’t see the usual display of affection humans have for pets in the form of baby talk, such as the talk Boaz has with the harmoniums. The man and the dog never have any verbal/vocal exchange of affection. When they materialize, they are together but quite apart. The only gesture of connectedness is the choke chain Rumfoord holds of Kazak. This gesture, however, is rather ambiguous in its implication. In effect, it speaks more of control and domination than of dependence and affection. In an extreme form of incapability of love, the man turns love into manipulation. This is precisely the case with his marriage to Beatrice. Beatrice and Rumfoord are evidently not on good terms. For all Rumfoord’s materializations in their mansion, Beatrice sees him only once and refuses to see more. Any communication between them is through the old butler. And we know this is not the case only after Rumfoord’s disappearance in the chrono-synclastic infundibula. We learn from Rumfoord’s own mouth that Beatrice remains a virgin until she is raped by Constant on their voyage to Mars (ST 164). While most of Rumfoord’s remarks about Beatrice are marked by irony and sarcasm, Beatrice’s is much more straightforward. “I hate him all the same,” Beatrice tells Brackman, her fellow Martian veteran (ST 242). As if for an explanation of the strained relationship, Rumfoord keeps reiterating the point that Beatrice holds herself too high and is thus unapproachable, as is suggested in the painting of her as an immaculate Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 155 girl in white with a white pony. This leads us to think that it is Beatrice’s fault that they are not on good terms. Nonetheless, the narrator’s opening introduction of Beatrice informs us otherwise. Although she is very rich, with seventeen million dollars in her name, and is “healthy and handsome, and talented, too” (ST 12), Beatrice “still did troubled things like chaining a dog’s skeleton to the wall, like having the gates of the estate bricked up, like letting the famous formal gardens turn into New England jungle” (ST 12). The narrator concludes, “Money, position, health, handsomeness and talent aren’t everything” (ST 12). What is missing in her life can be nothing but mutual love. The skeleton of a big mastiff that Beatrice has chained to the wall is a revealing symbol.

It was the skeleton of a very large dog—a mastiff. Its long teeth meshed. Its skull and jaws formed a cunningly articulated, harmless working model of a flesh-ripping machine. The jaws closed so— clack. Here had been the bright eyes, there the keen ears, there the suspicious nostrils, there the carnivore’s brain. Ropes of muscle had hooked here and here, had brought the teeth together in fl esh so— clack. (ST 11-2)

The dog bespeaks violence and horror in every detail. It is “one of Mrs. Rumfoord’s many bitter and obscure comments on the nasty tricks time and her husband had played on her” (ST 12). The mastiff skeleton may well be the imitation of the real dog—Kazak, who is the loyal companion of her husband. Kazak is a powerful animal. He barks with a voice “like a great bronze gong” and is “as big and terrible as a tiger”. It has “long, wet fangs” that bites like “flesh-ripping machine” (ST 157). “The pet is the mirror of the master”—not only does Kazak refl ect the loneliness and sufferings of Rumfoord caught in the chrono-synclastic infundibula, he is also symbolic of Rumfoord’s domineering power and obsessive desire for obedience. By chaining down the skeleton of a kindred dog to the wall in Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 156 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

the crudest manner, Beatrice is making a desperate gesture of rebellion and a desire to be in control. It is not hard to imagine the kind of life she lives with Rumfoord. Being born of an aristocratic family as Rumfoord was— “they were third cousins” (ST 27), Beatrice is indeed strong-willed and haughty, trying her best to preserve her purity, but in her innermost, she is a “frightened, lonely woman in a tremendous house” (ST 42). When she asks the butler to bring the dog to her so that, as she says, “I’d like to pet him before he goes. I would like to fi nd out if a chrono-synclastic indundibula kills love in a dog the way it kills love in a man” (ST 55), we see her utter loneliness and complete disillusionment with her husband who foretells and watches her degradation into a “space whore” (ST 52). But even the desire to “pet the dog” is made impossible, because no sooner has the dog run into the house than he is sucked into the infundibula. Beatrice is left only to whisper “nice doggy” to herself (ST 64). Many critics have pointed out the selfi sh and manipulative character of Rumfoord, but most of them discuss it in reference to his “grand scheme” in politics and religion—launching a Martian invasion to Earth and founding a new religion “Church of God the Utterly Indifferent”. Despite his claim of lofty goals in both plans (uniting the Earthlings and putting everybody on equal footing), they argue, Rumfoord is motivated by a “selfi sh reason, basically a psychological need to change his society” (Schatt 39), and Rumfoord is “often manipulative, deceitful, or mistaken” (Blackford 35). Mustazza observes that Rumfoord’s choice of Malachi Constant as a sacrifi cial symbol is “motivated by a bit of malice” because the good luck of the latter greatly disturbs the patrician, old-monied Rumfoord. “Altruism,” Mustazza maintains, “though seemingly his motive for action, is the last thing on Rumfoord’s mind.” (1990: 52, 50). I agree with this assessment. Behind all the grand scenarios of war and religion is the selfi sh desire of a willful man, a member of “the one true American class” from which large proportion of American presidents, explorers, Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 157

Eastern Seaboard governors and scientists come from and which breed people “like farm animals” (ST 26-7). It is egoism, not altruism, that motivates the grand gestures. Rumfoord evidently enjoys “playing God” and being worshiped and obeyed, even if it means to use others’ lives as fodder. It is appropriate that he is the head of the “Church of God the Utterly Indifferent”. Mustazza has a point when he observes that Vonnegut’ s choice to make the “utopian schemer” a man from the social elite (and an elitist) is intended as much a satiric commentary on the “cold arrogance of class-conscious America” as it is a “swipe at large-scale utopian schemes themselves” (1990: 54). However, I think, besides the class superiority of Rumfoord, there is also a personal cause for his freakish plan, namely, his desire to sully the purity of Beatrice, to humiliate and subdue her. On his fi rst meeting with Constant in his mansion, Rumfoord insists that the visitor “admire a huge oil painting of a little girl holding the reins of a pure white pony. The little girl wore a white bonnet, a white, starched dress, white gloves, white socks, and white shoes.” “Wouldn’t it be too bad if she fell into a mud puddle?” Rumfoord jokes to Constant, and then adds, “My wife as a child” (ST 23). The painting symbolically portrays Beatrice as obsessed with the fear of getting dirty, and the stubbornness and hauteur must have annoyed Rumfoord. On their meeting on Mars, Rumfoord discloses to Unk-Constant the truth that Beatrice has been virgin for all the years she married to him. “Pretty good joke on her husband, eh, Unk?” he says (ST 164). Self-mocking as the remark sounds, it is strongly indicative of the hurt and insult Rumfoord must have felt. Helping her into a “mud puddle” becomes part of his obsession. To much extent, the whole scheme of having Beatrice lose all her money, kidnapping her to Mars, and having her mated with Constant, a man much below her status and opinion, can be taken as a calculated design of revenge of an insulted husband. The most dramatic demonstration of Rumfoord’s ruthless and sadist revenge is in Chapter Eleven, the episode of the forced exile from Earth Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 158 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

to Titan of Constant, Beatrice and Chrono, the family in Rumfoord’s manipulation. In the position as the head of his new religion, and sitting high above in the treetop, Rumfoord plays the omniscient and omnipotent god of both Malachi and Beatrice. He exposes to the public their true identities on Earth and decrees their penalty. The case for Beatrice is especially cruel and humiliating. She is summoned to the top of the scaffold, already an ugly woman of a gold teeth and a blind eye, as a result of the suicidal Martian invasion launched by Rumfoord (ST 260). Accompanying her is her eight-year-old son, the boy begotten as a result of Constant’s urge to conquer her and prove his virility on their voyage to Mars. Remarkably, the scene of the three standing on the scaffold brings to mind the market scene of The Scarlet Letter. Both Beatrice Rumfoord and Hester Prynne are put up for public humiliation; both have their illegitimate child with them; both are questioned by the man central to their lives. The only difference is that, in Hester’s case, it is the adultery partner who interrogates her, under the disguise of innocence, while the husband is in the crowd, shocked into the recognition of his wife’s betrayal. In the case of Beatrice, the husband becomes the judge, who spares no effort to bring down his wife and punish the man who cuckolds him, even at the cost of his own grace. He actually is very open with the fact that he is cuckolded and makes it part of his “sermon” to the watching crowd:

“While she was en route to Mars so many years ago, Malachi Constant forced his attention on her, and she bore him this son. Before then, she was my wife and the mistress of this estate. Her true name is Beatrice Rumfoord.” (ST 260)

This overt acknowledgment of his disgraced position, however, is only the prelude to the dumping of the egoistic, male chauvinistic abuse, under the disguise of religion:

“I now invite you to despise the example of her life as you have Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 159

so long despised the example of the life of Malachi Constant,” he said up in his treetop mildly. “Hang her alongside Malachi Constant from your window blinds and light fi xtures, if you will. “The excesses of Beatrice were excesses of reluctance,” said Rumfoord. “As a younger woman, she felt so exquisitely bred as to do nothing and to allow nothing to be done to her, for fear of contamination. Life, for Beatrice as a younger woman, was too full of germs and vulgarity to be anything but intolerable. “We of the Church of God the Utterly Indifferent damn her as roundly for refusing to risk her imagined purity in living as we damn Malachi Constant for wallowing in fi lth.” (ST 261)

If there is indeed something admirable in his organizing the Martian invasion to Earth in that it claims to help all the earthling peoples unite as one—which actually does not happen, but only evokes the slaughtering instincts in many people—we see nothing justifi able in his condemnation of Malachi and Beatrice and in their expulsion to an alien planet. What is explicitly expressed is Rumfoord’s resentment and jealousy as a cuckolded husband. Ironically, the punishment turns out benefi cial for Beatrice, Constant, and Chrono. All three fi nd peace in their life on Titan and live a harmonious life with nature as well as themselves. The discovery of Constant and Beatrice at the end of their lives that “the worst thing that could possibly happen to anybody would be to not be used for anything by anybody”, and that “a purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved” (ST 310, 313) shows that they have achieved their “paradise within”[1]. It is Rumfoord, the indifferent and

[1] Leonard Mustazza explicates his understanding of the novel in the framework of Milton’s Paradise Lost. “Paradise within” is Milton’s term that he borrows, describing the state of happiness and serenity achieved by loving and caring for people around. See “The Sirens of Titan and the ‘Paradise Within’”, in Forever Pursuing Genesis, 45-58). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 160 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

selfi sh manipulator and god-player, that is defeated and expelled from the solar system. Love triumphs.

Ⅱ. Breakfast of Champions: Estrangement of Father and Son

In Breakfast of Champions (1973), both of the two protagonists are loners and highly dependent on their pets. The very first sentence of the story announces their state of loneliness: “This is a tale of a meeting of two lonesome, skinny, fairly old white men on a planet which was dying fast” (BC 7). Soon after that, in Chapter 2, their intense attachment to their pets is made explicit, in a parallel manner. We are fi rst told that Dwayne Hoover is a widower. His only companion at night is a Labrador retriever named Sparky. Although he has a black servant and he likes her, Dwayne doesn’t talk much with her but reserves most of his conversation for the dog.

He would get down on the fl oor and roll around with Sparky, and he would say things like, “You and me, Spark,” and “How’s my old buddy?” and so on. And that routine went on unrevised, even after Dwayne started to go crazy, so Lottie had nothing unusual to notice. (BC 18)

Kilgore Trout, we are then told, is a long neglected science-fiction writer. He owns a parakeet named Bill. “Like Dwayne Hoover, Trout was all alone at night, except for his pet. Trout, too, talked to his pet.” (BC 18)

But while Dwayne babbles to his Labrador retriever about love, Trout sneered and muttered to his parakeet about the end of the world. “Any time now,” he would say. “And high time, too.” It was Trout’s theory that the atmosphere would become Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 161

unbreathable soon. Trout supposed that when the atmosphere became poisonous, Bill would keel over a few minutes before Trout did. He would kid Bill about that. “How’s the old respiration, Bill?” he’d say, or, “Seems like you’ve got a touch of the old emphysema, Bill,” or, “We never discussed what kind of a funeral you want, Bill. You never even told me what your religion is.” And so on. (BC 18)

When zoologist James Serpell tried to solve the riddle that though in the 1960s pet keeping had become a popular practice, it held no social or cultural significance and “almost nothing had been written about it”, he concluded that one of the reasons that pet keeping was not taken seriously was a widespread superstition that it was somehow perverse, strange and wasteful (Franklin 95). Here in Breakfast of Champions, the cases of Dwayne and Trout can be counted as nearing perversity and strangeness. The way they seek communication and talk to their pets instead of fellow humans is clearly out of the normality. What is behind their grotesqueness? On the surface, Dwayne and Trout are the antithesis to each other in every aspect. Dwayne is “fabulously well-to-do” (BC 13). He is a highly successful Pontiac dealer who owns extraordinary portions of the town’s properties—three Burger Chefs, five car washes, pieces of a drive-in theatre, and a par-three golf course. Beside, he is generally well-liked and respected as one of the pillars of society in Midland City. Trout, on the contrary, is poor and neglected. Although he has written “one hundred and seventeen novels and two thousand short stories”, he remains a “nobody”, a “dirty old man” living in a basement apartment in Cohoes, New York, making a living as an installer of aluminum combination storm windows and screens (BC 7, 15, 20). On the level of personal life and emotional needs, however, the two men share a lot in common. First of all, they both live a single life, one as a widower, the other a divorced man. Dwayne’s wife has committed Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 162 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

suicide by swallowing Drano, “a mixture of sodium hydroxide and aluminum flakes, which was meant to clear drains” (BC 65). After that, “Dwayne never wanted to hear about love ever again. The subject was too painful” (BC 152). Trout married three times and all three wives were “extraordinarily patient and loving and beautiful”, but each of them was “shriveled by his pessimism” and left him (BC 110). As children, neither of the men enjoyed happy childhood. Dwayne is an illegitimate son of a spinster school teacher who wrote sentimental poetry and was seduce by an itinerant typesetter who promised to set her poems to type. His mother died at childbirth and the father sneaks away afterwards. Dwayne had to spend “the first three years of his life in an orphanage” before he was adopted by a couple who moved to Midland City from West Virginia “in order to make big money as factory workers in the First World War” (BC 45, 64). In the case of Kilgore Trout, he was not born within the border of America but in Bermuda, where his father worked for many years for the “Royal Ornithological Society” guarding the only nestling place in the world for Bermuda Erns, the “largest creatures ever to fly under their own power on the planet”. “These great green sea eagles eventually became extinct, despite anything anyone could do”. Watching the big bird die one by one, the boy had a depressing childhood, more so because his father “assigned him the melancholy task of measuring wingspreads of the corpses” (BC 30, 31). The experience plants seeds of pessimism in the heart of Trout, so that when he grows up his pessimism destroys his three marriages and drives away his only son. The estrangement between father and son constitute another major factor that contributes to the men’s loneliness. Trout’s son, Leo, leaves him at the age of fourteen. Determined to stay away from him forever, Leo lies about his age and manages to join the Marines. He is sent to Vietnam, where he deserts from his division and allegedly joins the Viet Cong and is now wanted by the F.B.I. The last time Trout hears from Leo is a note Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 163 he sends from boot camp, which says, “I pity you. You’ve crawled up your own asshole and died” (BC 111). Dwayne’s relationship with his son is no better. They haven’t exchanged words for many years. For Dwayne, it is unacceptable that Bunny Hoover, his only child, “had grown up to be a notorious homosexual” (BC 65). Sending him to a military institute at the age of ten doesn’t help “cure” him but only intensifi es it, for homosexuality, “buggery”, is one of the three things Bunny does in the eight years in the military academy. The other two are sports and Fascism (BC 180). He is eventually dismissed on account of it, in spite of all the medals he has won. Dwayne’s resentment for his son’s homosexuality eventually breaks up when, in the sudden attack of schizophrenia in which he sees everybody as robots and machines, he takes Bunny to be his fi rst victim. He “rolled it [Bunny’s head] like a cantaloupe up and down the keys of the piano bar”, terribly mangled his face. All the while, he called his son “a god damn cock-sucking machine” (BC 258). On the part of Bunny, he fosters not much affection for his father either. When he is home on vacation, “his mother would tell him when his father is out of hearing that she was becoming unhappier with each passing day. She would hint that Dwayne was a monster” (BC 180). Although it is not explicit in the novel, it is understandable that Bunny may have developed hatred for his father. His practice of Transcendental Meditation to “absent himself from the cocktail lounge, and from the planet itself” can be taken as a determined gesture to refuse anything to do with his father and the world alike (BC 177). In contrast to the fabulous wealth of his father, Roy lives a simple and poor life by himself, in the most dangerous neighborhood of the town known as “Skid Row”, “a place where people who didn’t have any friends or relatives or property or usefulness or ambition were supposed to go” (BC 183). After picking up the bits of clues and details dispersed randomly in the labyrinthine narrative, we obtain a clearer picture of the two leading heroes: despite their differences in social status and financial conditions, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 164 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Dwayne and Trout are both lonesome aging men who had unhappy childhood, unhappy marriages, and unhappy relationship with their sons. According to a 1988 survey by sociologists Albert and Bulcroft, emotional attachment towards pets vary by a number of social/family variables, such as marital status and stage in life cycle. They fi nd that

[…] never-married, divorced, and widowed people, as well as people who are involved in a second or subsequent marriage, score higher on pet attachment than do cohabitating couples and people who are in first marriages. People who do not have children and those who do not have children present in the home also feel closer to their pets. (548)

The study actually confi rms what Keith Thomas says in his infl uential monologue, Man and the Natural World: “Sterilised, isolated and usually deprived of contact with other animals, the pet is creature of its owner’s way of life; and the fact that so many people feel it necessary to maintain a dependent animal for the sake of emotional completeness tells us something about the atomistic world in which we live” (Thomas 119). It explains why Dwayne and Trout are so intensely attached to their pets. The Labrador retriever and the parakeet are important sources of affection and solace which the men are desperately yearning for. With their close social ties cut off or lost, whether voluntarily or passively, their sense of ontological security becomes disturbed. The pets become crucial to keep their mental and emotional balance. This is particularly the case with Dwayne. For Trout, the parakeet is mainly a partner to talk to and a listener to share his thinking with, thus distilling his defeatist pessimism. But for Dwayne, the dog is the only source of emotional comfort and sense of fellowship. When Dwayne manages to get over his fi rst suicidal impulse, he says to the terrifi ed dog, “You and me, Sparky.” The talk is oddly intimate and nervously contracted, revealing Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 165 the psychological tension of the speaker. The narrator adds, “He sure loved that dog” (BC 52). The dog’s incapability to respond only intensifi es Dwayne’s loneliness and desperation. An important detail to note is that when Dwayne overcomes the impulse to kill himself and shoots up one of his tiled bathrooms instead, “[n]obody heard the shots”, because “[a]ll the houses in the neighborhood were too well insulated for sound ever to get in or out” (BC 52). When he turns on the fl oodlights around his house and plays basketball outside his five-car garage, nobody sees him either, because “[h]e was screened from his neighbors by trees and shrubs and a high cedar fence” (BC 52). The only “person” with Dwayne in this moment of crisis is Sparky, who comes out from the hiding place after the shooting and “watched Dwayne play basketball” (BC 52). The insulation and screening are highly symbolic in the novel. They are metaphors for the barrier of communication between people and signify the dehumanizing segmentation of urban existence. In protecting themselves from danger and harm, people isolate themselves into lonely islands, “locked into little boxes”, as Vonnegut says. The traditional community where people know each other and share with each other news and feelings is gone. Nobody cares about what is happening next door. Although Dwayne shows early signs of insanity, his “cries for help” are largely ignored by people around him. People are too obsessed with their own troubles and misread the signals. Harry Lesabre, Dwayne’s white sales manager, mistakes Dwayne’s irrational insults of his clothes as a sign of discovery of his secret transvestite hobbies and gets terribly upset (BC 48). Vernon Garr, a white mechanic, has not noticed the change in Dwayne because his wife is a schizophrenic who believes that “Vernon was trying to turn her brains into plutonium”. Like Dwayne, Vernon would go home every day and “talk for hours to my fucking dog” (BC 42, 44). The only person that is really close to Dwayne, Francine Pefko, “his white secretary and mistress”, thinks Dwayne, instead of going insane, is “getting happier Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 166 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

and happier” because she hears him sing songs popular in his youth. She thinks, “He is fi nally getting over his wife’s suicide” (BC 40). In this confusion of understanding and misunderstanding, Dwayne is left alone to combat the overwhelming symptoms of insanity. The physical condition of Sparky, the Labrador retriever, is highly symbolic of Dwayne’s helplessness.

Sparky could not wag his tail—because of an automobile accident many years ago, so he had no way of telling other dogs how friendly he was. He had to fi ght all the time. His ears were in tatters. He was lumpy with scars. (BC 17)

Like Sparky, Dwayne has lost effective means to communicate with people, to make people understand his troubles. When he says to Francine, “I’ve lost my way […] I need someone to take me by the hand and lead me out of the woods”, his mistress can only suggest that he take some rest or go to a doctor, which means little help to Dwayne (BC 167). His is the trouble of self-identity, the confusion about his ontological existence. “Fabulously well-to-do” as he materially is, his spiritual world is one of chaos, confusion, and fragmentation. When on the roof of Holliday Inn, he sees Midland City, the place where he grew up and owns half of its properties, as “unfamiliar and frightening” and wonders, “Where am I?” (BC 64), when he fi nds himself walking unsteadily to his Pontiac agency as if the ground had turned into a trampoline (BC 95), when he talks to people with uncontrollable echolalia, involuntarily repeating out loud whatever has just been said by the other (BC 131), he is suffering not only incipient outbreaks of mental illness, but also a severe case of “ontological insecurity”. The term “ontological insecurity” is used by a number of scholars to describe “the essential state of privatism and social isolation of modern individuals and cultures in the West” (Franklin 56). According to Adrian Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 167

Franklin, who draws mainly on the theories “ontological security” of Anthony Giddens, the social transformation of postmodernity such as the decline of local community and the fragmentation of family and domestic organization has created “confusion, loss, unpredictability and anxiety” (57). What Dwayne suffers from is exactly this loss of security. The world is losing its consistent meaning to him, becoming fragile and ephemeral. Nothing is any more certain, firm, meaningful, and controllable to him. When he says to Sparky, “you and me”, we can imagine his desperate grappling for anything palpable and dependable. As Franklin observes, “the love of animals and the desire to have them closer to us can, in part, be related to ontological insecurities” and “animals become substitute love objects and companions precisely because they can be involved in enduring relations of mutual dependency” (57). However, unfortunately, Dwayne’s disorientation is off the limits and the dog can no longer fulfi ll the desired effect. In effect, “tragic failure to communicate” is a major theme in the novel (BC 58). When Trout asks the truck driver why his brother-in-law names his trucking company “Pyramid”, the truck driver answers, “He likes the sound of it” (BC 110). Words are no longer valued as signifi ers of meaning but as clusters of sound only. In a science-fi ction story Trout writes in his later life, the language keeps turning into pure music in a planet where creatures are so enthusiastic about sounds.

Words became musical notes. Sentences became melodies. They were useless as conveyors of information, because nobody knew or cared what the meanings of words were anymore. So leaders in government and commerce, in order to function, had to invent new and much uglier vocabularies and sentence structures all the time, which would resist being transmuted to music. (BC 110) Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 168 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Vonnegut must have felt such a danger in his times, a danger that people turn a deaf ear to conventional language, regardless how urgent the message it carries is. His employment of juvenile illustrations, vulgar language, and impolite subject matters such as the ubiquitous measurement of man’s penis and women’s breast, can well be taken as his outrageous effort to combat this tendency of apathy and impassivity. In another science fiction tale, “The Dancing Fool”, Trout figures a fl ying saucer creature named Zog who lands on Earth to explain “how wars could be prevented and how cancer could be cured”, but when he touches down in Connecticut, he sees a house on fi re. “He rushed into the house, farting and tap dancing, warning the people about the terrible danger they were in.” However, instead of thanking him and run for life, “[t]he head of the house brained Zog with a golfclub” (BC 58-9). The message of this “comic fable” (Reed 2000: 20) is self-evident[1]. For Vonnegut, the breakdown of effective communication between wife and husband, father and son, between friends and colleagues, and between strangers lies in the core for the degrading condition of the country and the spiritual void of its people. Breakfast of Champions was written in a period of great personal turbulence. It was perhaps Vonnegut’s “most emotionally trying period” in his life (Allan 1991: 102). In 1971, Vonnegut’s marriage of twenty fi ve years broke up and he moved out to live alone in . As Allan notes, for a native of Midwesterner from a family in which divorce was virtually unheard of, “the breakup was a source of confusion and embarrassment”. He became so depressed that he was put on medication by his physician. In 1972 his son Mark had a schizophrenic breakdown and had to be hospitalized. This put Vonnegut further into guilt and fear that

[1] Peter Freese draws a list of all the science fi ction stories of Trout mentioned in the novel, 17 in total. He also classifi es the tales into three groups, the second of which is the narratives concerned with “tragic failures to communicate”. See The Clown of Armageddon: The Novels of Kurt Vonnegut (Heidelberg: Universitatsverlag Winter, 2009), 374. Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 169 he might have a genetic predisposition to insanity. He confessed in that, during the tremendous time, he considered suicide, which “has always been a temptation to me, since my mother solved so many problems with it” (PS 304). No wonder that “suicide is at the heart of the book” (CKV 108). Allan succinctly describes the psychic confl ict the author must have undergone: “As the son of a melancholy father who saw his career disintegrate in the Depression, and of a depressed mother who fi nally killed herself with sleeping pills, Vonnegut has had to struggle against a heritage of despair” (1991: 106). To a great extent, Breakfast of Champions is the author’s “rather desperate attempt at artistic autotherapy in the face of deep life crisis” (Freese 1996: 158). By writing a book about suicide and insanity, about marriage failure and estrangement of father and son, and by putting himself in the book (Vonnegut is a character in the latter part of the novel), addressing directly personal pains and frustrations, Vonnegut is learning to come to terms with life. Allan is absolutely right when he says, “The emotional pain of Breakfast of Champion is almost palpable, and makes it a tremendously revealing but diffi cult book to read” (1991: 106). Fortunately, Kilgore Trout overcomes his paranoia to “leave his cage”, as his parakeet’s refusal to leave the cage and fl y to the wide world externalizes. Instead, Trout makes up his mind to “[go] out there to show them what nobody has ever seen at an arts festival before: a representative of all the thousands of artists who devoted their entire lives to a search for truth and beauty” (BC 37). He is to be “the eyes and ears and of the creator of the universe” (BC 67), or in the words of his own creator, to serve the society, to be “the alarm system of danger”, to be “agent of change”, to “catch people before they become generals and presidents […] and poison their minds … with humanity” (CKV 76-7, 123). This attitude of fi rmness and commitment salvages the book from complete despair and fatalism. We can bring about changes by ideas, Vonnegut has his alter ego say to us, and “We are healthy only to the extent that our ideas are humane” Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 170 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

(BC 16). With Vonnegut having thus survived the “spiritual crossroad”[1], we will be glad to see the reconciliation of Trout and Leo in his 14th book, Galapagos.

Ⅲ. Slapstick: Separation of Brother and Sister

Of all Vonnegut’s novels, Slapstick (1976) is the loneliest. The subtitle unequivocally pronounces its theme: “Lonesome No More”, indicating that the story to be told is about loneliness and the endeavor to fight loneliness. In terms of critical status, the novel itself suffers excruciating “loneliness”. It was widely denounced as an embarrassing failure. Critics attack its “emptiness”, “mannerism”, “perversion”, and “cynicism”[2]. Even supportive scholars such as William R. Allan found it hard to back him up. For him, “it seems more likely that after a decade of tremendously innovative fi ction followed by the pressures of fame and personal troubles, Vonnegut had simply run out of the energy to fit his zanier ideas into a coherent whole” (1991: 122). The hurt Vonnegut felt from the critical rejection was so much that he said to an interviewer, “I never felt worse in my life. I felt as though I were sleeping standing up on a boxcar in Germany again” (CKV 184). Slapstick consists of three parts: the Prologue, the inset story, and the Epilogue. The inset story tells of the bizarre experiences of a twin brother and sister, Wilbur Rockefeller Swain and Eliza Mellon Swain. The twins were born deformed. They have six fi ngers on each hand, six toes on each

[1] The expression is borrowed from Lawrence R. Broer, who discusses Breakfast of Champions as Vonnegut’s endeavor to survive personal depression. See Chapter 7, “Breakfast of Cham- pions: Spiritual Crossroads”, in Sanity Plea: Schizophrenia in Novels of Kurt Vonnegut (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1989), 97-107. [2] See Christopher Lehmann-Haupt, “Books of the Times,” , 24 September 1976, p. C19; Roger Sale, “Slapstick,” The New York Times Book Review, 3 October 1976, pp. 3, 20, 21; R. Z. Sheppard, “Goodbye Indianapolis,” Time, 105 (25 October 1976), 84. Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 171 foot, two supernumerary nipples, and the appearance of “neanderthaloids” features—“massive brow-ridges, sloping foreheads, and steamshovel jaws” (SS 28). Feeling ashamed of their monstrous appearance and being assured that “they were no more true relatives of theirs […] than baby crocodiles”, the “fabulously well-to-do” parents send them away and “entomb” them in a “spooky old mansion […] in the midst of two hundred acres of apple trees on a mountaintop” in Vermont (SS 29-30). There for fifteen years Wilbur and Eliza live an Edenic life, attended to by numerous servants and a family doctor, all of whom believe they are sheer drooling idiots. They behave accordingly, although in truth they have developed into a sort of composite genius. Eliza is inductive in her thinking, while Wilbur is analytic; together they learn reading and writing, fi nishing all the books in the family library by seven, and formulate all sorts of theories about gravity, the theory of evolution, and the necessity for creating artificial extended families. Secluded from the outside world, the twins live an innocent, blissful existence as a “nation of two”, like Adam and Eve in their Garden of Eden. But the state of happiness and harmony is put to an end when their parents pay them the annual visit on their fi fteenth birthday. Overhearing how disgusted and hateful their parents are for their idiocy, the twins decide to please them by revealing their intelligence. However, the result only appalls them more, as “intelligence and sensitivity in monstrous bodies like Eliza’s and mine merely made us more repulsive” (SS 75). On the advice of an evil child psychologist, the twins are separated. Wilbur is sent to school and eventually becomes a pediatrician, whereas Eliza is put in an institution for the feeble minded. When the story starts, told in the voice of Wilbur in the form of an autobiography, Wilbur is waiting for his one-hundredth birthday. He is now the President of the United States, living in the ruins of Manhattan, where almost everyone has been killed by a mysterious disease called “The Green Death”. Accompanying him is his sixteen-year- Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 172 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

old illiterate granddaughter, Melody (SS 19). His twin sister, Eliza, has long been dead, killed in an avalanche in the Chinese colony on Mars (SS 152). The inset story of Slapstick does not actually portray a pet-master relation, at least not a prominent one, given the fact that Wilbur does have a horse named Budweizer, “the only person I could share my innermost thoughts with” (SS 161). Nevertheless, the author’s account of his intimacy with the dog figures prominently in the Prologue. Although many critics regard the book a total failure, almost all agree that the nineteen-page Prologue is well written and worthy of close appreciation. William R. Allan, for example, praises that “the prologue is the most successful, especially for what it reveals about the autobiographical sources of Vonnegut’s artistry” (1991: 114). Kilinkowitz also considers the Prologue to be “one of [Vonnegut’s] best-written and most important essays” (1998: 119). Therefore, what is described in the Prologue is of crucial importance not only to the entire novel, but also to the understanding of the cosmos of Vonnegut’s philosophy. The Prologue is a quiet, melancholic reminiscence of the author’s family past, its grandeur and prosperity before World WarⅠand its dispersal and decline caused by the “sudden hatred for all things German” during WWⅠ and the economic slump of the Great Depression (SS 6). The chief sorrow dealt with is the death of his beloved sister, Alice, who died of cancer at the age of forty-one, “among strangers in New Jersey” (SS 11). Only “two mornings before”, her healthy husband, James Carmalt Adams, was killed in a train crash, “the only train in American railroading history to hurl itself off an open drawbridge” (SS 12). Alice’s death was a great shock to Vonnegut and dramatically changed his life. It “probably impressed me more than anything else”, Vonnegut told an interviewer (CKV 205). The pain is transformed and put at the core of the inset story of Slapstick, so that “the one that matters to [Wilbur] most is the death of his twin sister (CKV 205). Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 173

But before everything else, Vonnegut describes his love for his dogs:

When a child, and not watching comedians on fi lm or listening to comedians on the radio, I used to spend a lot of time rolling around on rugs with uncritically affectionate dogs we had. And I still do a lot of that. The dogs become tired and confused and embarrassed long before I do. I could go on forever. (SS 2-3)

After a short break, he refers back to it:

One time, on his twenty-fi rst birthday, one of my three adopted sons, who was to leave for the Peace Corps in the Amazon Rain Forest, said to me, “You know—you’ve never hugged me.” So I hugged him. We hugged each other. It was very nice. It was like rolling around on a rug with a Great Dane we used to have. (SS 3, emphasis added)

Thirteen pages later, he returns to the detail again:

The two dogs have died of old age. I used to roll around with them on rugs for hours on end, until they were all pooped out. (SS 15, emphasis added)

There are some other quick references, too, in places that the reference seems redundant and out of place. Altogether, in the 19-page Prologue, the dogs are referred to seven times. It is so conspicuous that we cannot help but wonder whether Vonnegut is nudging us and calling our attention to them, and if yes, what is the significance? Unfortunately, rarely any Vonnegut scholar has ever noticed these dogs. The dogs are from Alice’s household. After the deaths of both their parents within forty-eight hours, the three oldest boys of the Adams, aging from eight to fourteen, made two requirements for whoever would adopt them, “that they remain together and that they keep their two dogs” (SS Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 174 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

13). As it turned out, Kurt Vonnegut embraced the boys and the dogs into his Cape Cod household. For the boys, the dogs are the remaining of their family. Staying together and staying with the dogs is all they can do to keep the family intact, to support each other and gather enough courage to face the parentless future and fend off the fear for the unknown. For Vonnegut, the dogs may bring back memories of his sister, whom he loved so dearly and who “was always the person I had always written for”. “Any creation which has any wholeness and harmoniousness,” Vonnegut maintains, “was made by an artist or inventor with an audience of one in mind”. For him, that audience was his sister. She was his “secret of artistic unity and technique” (SS 15). Rolling around with the dogs on the rugs might well be his desperate search for the lost unity and wholeness. While this may sound far-fetched, sentimental, and hypothetical, the understanding that dogs provide emotional consolation and healing distraction in times of crisis is no exaggeration, as we have explained in the case of Dwayne in Breakfast of Champions. Rhetorically and thematically, the roles of the dogs are not to be ignored either. As Peter Freese points out, the Prologue offers not only an “unabashedly frank explanation” of the novel’s origins in its creator’s personal experiences, but also “a kind of ‘instruction for use’ meant to ensure an adequate reader reception” (2009: 418). The descriptions in the Prologue can be instructive as to the understanding of the true nature of the inset story. In other words, what is depicted in the Prologue can be indicative and symbolic to the plot and themes of the inset story. Although Vonnegut declares at the opening that “[t]his is the closest I will ever come to writing an autobiography” (SS 1), the story is not a “one-to-one transposition of real events into a roman a clef ” (Freese 2009: 419). Instead, it is “a complex narrative refraction of personal experiences into highly imaginative projections” (Freese 2009: 419). After all, Vonnegut has emphatically said in the Prologue, “It is about Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 175 what life feels like to me” (SS 1). This is exactly where and how the dog scenarios work. What the experience with the dogs signifies is, most of all, the “feel”. In the descriptions quoted above, three common features stand out: fi rst, that the dogs are uncritically affectionate; second, that the hugging and rolling with the dogs makes him feel good; third, that the man seems more dependent on the dogs than the dogs on the man. All of this bears out in the story of Wilbur and Eliza. While playing with the dogs, their “uncritical affection” places no pressure on Vonnegut, demanding no return of affection and exerting no prerequisite condition for its offer. It is spontaneous, unpretentious, and unjudgmental. Before Vonnegut starts to talk about his love for the dogs, he is proposing “common decency” over “love”, for love may involve much pain in the expectation and denial, demanding too much for return, and could be “poisonous” (SS 2, 3), or it may simply become false protestations. As Eliza says, “It’s as though you were pointing a gun at my head” when one says “I love you”. “It’s just a way of getting somebody to say something they probably don’t mean” (SS 108). Love, as Freese observes, may be misused as a weapon for enforcing a desired result and may lead to possessiveness, intolerance, and jealousy (2009: 443). The life of Wilbur and Eliza is replete with false claims of love. First it is from their parents. When they visit the twins on their birthdays, they would show them that they love them and care about them, but in privacy they wish “we would hurry up and die” (SS 60). False claim of love comes later between Wilbur and Eliza. When the twins are forced apart, they are turned into hateful enemies, with Wilbur becoming the parents’ favored baby, “the child with a future” (SS 110), and Eliza a shameful burden, “a cancer to be removed” (SS 122). Yet still, when Eliza gets out of the hospital with the help of a bounty-hunter lawyer and launches a lawsuit against her millionaire relatives, all Wilbur and Mother have to show to Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 176 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

the reporters is a telegram they sent to Eliza: “WE LOVE YOU. YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR BROTHER”, to which Eliza ironical replies: “I LOVE YOU TOO. ELIZA” (SS 115). The hypocritical and unreliable nature of love is laid bare. Even after their reconciliation love proves inadequate. When on the graduation night, deeply moved by his sister’s angelic blessings from a helicopter, Wilbur shouts, “Eliza! I love you!” “I really love you!” “I mean it!” he finds the word “love” so pale and powerless that he has to resort to various emphatic mechanics to make it convey what he feels (SS 139). The careless abuse of the word has tragically diluted its power of expression and the sincerity and intensity it originally possesses. As a compromise, Vonnegut proposes in the Prologue: “I wish that people who are conventionally supposed to love each other would say to each other, when they fi ght, ‘Please—a little less love, and a little more common decency” (SS 3). Although it sounds less elevated and romantic, common decency can be more effective and benefi cent to create “the simple experience of companionship” (SS 177). What Vonnegut means when he insists on preference of common decency over love, I think, is not a total negation of love, but an expression of disillusionment with the failure of love and a resigned plea for people to meet the basic quality of being humane. The graduation present Dr. Mott gives Wilbur reads, “If you can do no good, at least do no harm” (SS 140). The advice reaffi rms Vonnegut’s notion of common decency: If you cannot live up to the standards of love, at least be humane. Treat people around you with respect and consideration. Don’t hurt. If you cannot love them, be kind. As a matter of fact, this is a theme that Vonnegut reiterates time and again in his fi ctions as well as essays. In Jailbird, he has his leading character say, “Love may fail, but courtesy will prevail”. In God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, the titular hero baptizes Mary Moody’s twins with the words: “Hello, babies. Welcome to the Earth […] There’s only one rule that I know of, Babies—: ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’” Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 177

In Slapstick, Vonnegut puts the twins’ millionaire young parents under test by giving them a pair of ugly, grotesque children. It turns out that what they do to Wilbur and Eliza is even below common decency, let alone parental love—they “entomb” them in an old, isolated, gothic mansion, shut them up entirely from society by barbed wires, have other people take up the responsibility of looking after them, pay them condescending visits once a year, and when they discover them to possess unusual intelligence being together, cruelly separate them. The only thing they ever do for the children is material comfort, which calls for money, not love. In effect, their behavior to the twins is no better than the treatment of caged animals. There is indeed one detail that illuminates the similarity: the servants hope “with all their hearts” that the twins become “toilet-trained”, just like caged birds or pets (SS 41, 50). In her emotional breakdown on their fifteenth birthday, the mother confesses that the children are no human to her. She says to her husband, “I would give anything, Caleb, for the faintest sign of intelligence, the merest fl icker of humanness in the eyes of either twin” (SS 69, emphasis added). In the eye of the parents, the twins are only subhuman, thus deserve no true love or moral obligation. Significantly, when Wilbur is elected the President of America, he carries out the Utopian schedule of artificial extended families he and Eliza formulated in their composite genius. His goal is to give relatives to everyone, including those most undesired and downtrodden, whom his young angered wife refers to as strangers “crawling out from damp rocks like earwigs, centipedes, slugs and worms” (SS 175). He believes the “simple experience of companionship is going to allow them to climb the evolutionary ladder” and “become human beings” (SS 177). Common decency, then, is love not limited to one’s own kind and kin, but that which embraces all living creatures.

In regard to the second feature of the dog scenarios, we should take Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 178 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

notice of Vonnegut’s nearly word-to-word repetition of his “rolling around on rugs with the dogs”. What is emphasized in this willful repetition is physical intimacy. In other words, what makes rolling around with the dogs feel so good is the physical contact. It explains why, after hugging his adopted son upon request, he says, “It was very nice. It was like rolling around with the Great Dane we used to have” (SS 3). The importance of hug is stressed again in his account of his life-long “common decency” with his brother Bernard. Without much logic following, Vonnegut puts in, “We have hugged each other maybe three or four times—on birthdays, very likely, and clumsily. We have never hugged in moments of grief” (SS 4). A slight regret that they had not hugged more is not hard to discern. A lot of studies have shown that physical contact, or touch, is crucial to the well-being of human beings, both physically and emotionally. People have a biological need for touch. It is the most primitive but very basic, effective nonverbal means of communication. Suzanne M. Peloquin makes a good summary of the benefi ts of touch: “Touch fulfi ll several functions of the self. Through touch one communicates, tests the reality of the world, affi rms connectedness and comfort with others, and manifests the self as a person” (303). But in modern cultures, bodily contact is regarded as taboo. Yi-fu Tuan has rightly noted that the popularity of pets in the Western world since the 1960s was partly due to the increasing lack of outlet for people’s gestures of affection in a society that “discourage[s] casual physical contact, and frown[s] upon the enormously satisfying stances of patronage, such as laying one’s hand on another’s shoulder” (112). Such is the world of Vonnegut, and so is that of Wilbur and Eliza. Physical intimacy is a key motif in Slapstick. As dizygotic twins, Wilbur and Eliza are like two halves of the same mind. Their happiness and intelligence lie entirely in their physical togetherness. Once they put their heads together, literally, they “give birth to a single genius”: they can read and write English by four, French, German, Italian, Latin and Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 179 ancient Greek by seven, “and do calculus, too”. By the time they are ten, they have secretly read the thousands of books in the mansion (SS 41-42). However, once they are separated, they become dumb and dull “Betty and Bobby Brown” (SS 88). The concept of Wilbur and Eliza as a composite genius is highly symbolic and can be interpreted in different ways. Allan sees it as reminiscent of “such ancient myths as Plato’s notion that the sexes were originally joined before being split by vindictive gods” (1991: 117). Loree Rockstraw comments that “Vonnegut turns the metaphor of Eliza and Wilbur’s creative interplay into an incestuous orgy to reflect the writer’s frustrations and painfully won craft” (129). Broer argues that the twins are not only “a typical device for dramatizing a single mind on the verge of schizophrenia”, but that Vonnegut also “uses the symbolic fusion of male and female sensibilities to portray the painful alienation of an entire society” (112). While all of these arguments make good sense in their respective perspectives, the critics have all ignored the very basic and literal meaning of the twins’ condition—their physical intimacy. Like his imposing repetition of the dog scenarios, Vonnegut makes conspicuous repetition about the twins’ desire for physical contact. The fi rst detailed description is made when the twins are given intelligence tests by a malicious psychologist, Dr. Cordelia Swain Cordiner, who detects their mutual dependence and demands that they be tested separately, which proves their intelligence to be “low normal for their age” (SS 95). Upon the Mother’s insistence, they are tested again and “as a pair”. The twins are overjoyed. In order to show how brilliant they are, they do their best to unite themselves to work out perfect answers:

The only trouble was that the two of us, in the innocent process of checking and rechecking our answers, wound up under the table—with our legs wrapped around each other’s necks in scissors grips, and snorting and snuffl ing into each other’s crotches. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 180 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

When we regained our chairs, Dr. Cordilia Swain Cordiner had fainted, and our parents were gone. (SS 103-4)

The second time they display such intimacy is when, after years of separation, Eliza fi nally makes it to the mansion where Wilbur and Mother live. After some violent exchange of animosities, the sister and brother calm down, but still sarcastic. Then Eliza says, without any context, “Touch me.”

“Pardon me?” I said. “I’m your own fl esh. I’m your sister. Touch me,” she said. “Yes, of course,” I said. But my arms seemed queerly paralyzed. “Take your time,” she said. “Well—” I said, “since you hate me so—” “I hate Bobby Brown,” she said. “Since you hate Bobby Brown—” I said. “And Betty Brown,” she said. “That was so long ago,” I said. “Touch me,” she said. […] Then she touched me. We became a single genius again. (SS 126-7)

This time the orgy goes on for five days and nights, during which they somehow write a manual for childbearing. In a likewise manner, the description of their last “meeting” is also very sensuous and emphasizes the desire for physical closeness. But this time it is Wilbur who is the focal point of description. Eliza has already died years ago, but an odd- looking electric device called the Hooligan turns up to be able to serve as something like a telephone between the dead and the living. Wilbur goes wild in his endeavor to talk to her through the device. Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 181

He climbed involuntarily on top of the cabinet, as tall and old as he was. He crouched over the pipe, to be that much closer to his sister. He hung his head upside-down in front of the business end of the pipe, and knocked the crucial lunchpail to the fl oor, breaking the connection. (SS 232)

Later, the son of the woman who owns the device tells him what he looks like talking to the Hooligan: “Like the biggest baboon in the world– trying to fuck a football” (SS 236). Most critics discuss the twins’ relationship in terms of incest. Although Vonnegut does make a point in the Prologue that incest is part of the book (SS 18), I think he also warns against taking the incestuous relationship too literally. In Chapter 6, Wilbur makes a clarifi cation:

Although we pawed and embraced each other a great deal, our intentions were purely intellectual. True—Eliza matured sexually at the age of seven. I, however, would not enter puberty until my last year in Harvard Medical School, at the age of twenty-three. Eliza and I used bodily contact only in order to increase the intimacy of our brains. (SS 50)

What their physical desire for each other symbolizes, I think, is the intensity of loneliness and alienation, the agony at not being able to be together, to be connected, to be whole. In the dialogue of the second meeting, we can fully feel the strain and inhibition both of them struggle with and the desperation in which they are hankering for reunion. In this sense, I agree with Broer that “Vonnegut uses the symbolic fusion of male and female sensibilities to portray the painful alienation of an entire society” (112). In a highly imaginative manner, the forced separation of the twins and their craving for closeness literalize the anxiety, insecurity, and incompleteness that mark the postmodern existence. The apparent absurdity Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 182 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

and ludicrousness of the monstrous twins only enhances the serious emphasis of the pathos of the human dilemma addressed in the novel (Reed 1996: 113).

In the description of his interaction with the dogs, Vonnegut foregrounds the dogs’ utter innocence: “The dogs become tired and confused and embarrassed long before I do” (SS 2-3). This is a characteristic rhetoric of Vonnegut’s animal poetics and examples can be found in almost all of his fi ctions. Always after some destructive event, a bird or a dog will be depicted as being entirely unwitting of what has happened. On the one hand, this shows Vonnegut’s refusal to anthropomorphise the animal, a conventional practice of attributing human qualities to animals and having them think and talk human-like. In Vonnegut’s fi ctions, animals are always treated as real and autonomous individuals. This will be further dealt with in Chapter Four. On the other hand, their innocence sets off by contrast the cruelty and stupidity of humanity, which Vonnegut aims to attack. Here in Slapstick, the fact that the dogs become tired and confused and embarrassed long before the author shows poignantly the author’s utter loneliness and the emotional need for warmth. Unlike the classic man-dog story of Robinson Crusoe in which the man is the master and the dog a subaltern companion[1], in Vonnegut’s story, the man is the lonely one and more dependent whereas the dog is the giver and sympathizer. In this reversed relation, there is more agony than irony. In the Prologue, Vonnegut compares himself to a turtle: “Perhaps I am the turtle, able to live simply anywhere, even underwater for short periods, with my home on my back” (SS 10). This is a very sad metaphor, denoting rootlessness and a sense of diaspora that he feels as a third-generation German-American, cut off completely from their German roots. The resentment and shame

[1] Philip Armstrong gives a convincing discussion of the relationship between Crusoe and his dog in What Animals Mean in the Fiction of Modernity (New York: Routledge, 2008), 40-41. Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 183 are discernible as he repeatedly recalls in essays and interviews how his parents, amidst the strong anti-German sentiment, chose not to teach them anything about their German heritage. “My brother and sister and I were raised as though Germany was as foreign to us as Paraguay” (SS 6). The loneliness and rootlessness, however, is not meant to be limited to his personal experience. It is the epitome of the common condition of America. In his Presidential campaign address, Wilbur speaks of “American loneliness”. “All the damaging excesses of Americans in the past,” he says, “were motivated by loneliness rather than a fondness for sin” (SS 160). The slogan for his campaign is “Lonesome No More!”—the subtitle of the book, and the exact slogan Vonnegut recommended for Sargent Shriver when the latter was running for Vice-president (CKV 224). The solution he has for the American people to combat loneliness is artifi cial extended families. Vonnegut must have felt extremely elevated when finally he had a chance to put into application, although only in the world of fiction, the pet theory he had conjured up since the years at University of Chicago as a student of cultural anthropology. He first became acquainted with the concept from Dr. Robert Redfi eld, whose theory of “the folk society” charmed Vonnegut and enlightened him[1]. On basis of Dr. Redfi eld’s idea that a folk society is a stable, isolated, primitive community within which “people can take really good care of one another, can share fairly, and can distribute honors to one and all” (PS 211), he formulated his “utopian scheme” of artifi cial extended families and began propagating it at every chance[2]. Meanwhile, a visit to Biafra much confirmed his belief in the benefits of extended families. In that small country, Vonnegut observes,

[1] See for his repeated admiration of the idea of the folk society in “Address to the National In- stitute of Arts and Letters, 1971”, in Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons, pp. 176-179; “Self Interview” and “Religion” in Palm Sunday, pp. 116, 211. [2] Vonnegut’s propaganda of the idea of the artifi cial extended family can be found at various places, for example, in the famous Playboy interview (CKV 78-81), Palm Sunday (204-5), and Fates Worse Than Death (34). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 184 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

people are “able to endure so much so long without bitterness” because they have “the emotional and spiritual strength that an enormous family can give” (WFG 147). Why can’t this be applied as a remedy for the rampant evil in contemporary America? He must be wondering. In Slapstick, Wilbur as the President helps his creator realize his “sunny little dream” (CKV 80). Each citizen is assigned by the government a middle name which links him to ten thousand strangers as brothers and sisters, and one hundred and ninety thousand as cousins, so that everybody has a large family of relatives. The computer-bestowed middle names “consist of a noun, the name of a fl ower or fruit or nut or vegetable or legume, or bird or a reptile or a fi sh or a gem or a mineral […] connected by a hyphen to a number between one and twenty” (SS 162). Wilbur’s middle name, for example, is Daffodil-Ⅱ; that of his young wife, “peanut-3”. While the whole thing looks hilarious and farcical, pointing right to the title of the book, “slapstick”, the core concept of the family plan remains serious and is affi rmed. As Reed observes, “Vonnegut obviously sees the potential drawbacks to the scheme, and may not seriously give the idea more than a Kilgore Trout rating, but he seems serious enough about the human needs that extended families might alleviate which are at present being neglected” (1996: 115). Besides the earlier quoted egalitarian ideal of everybody becoming equal and is to be treated with equal respect and consideration as human beings, regardless of their origin and background, the story of how Wilbur’s granddaughter Melody makes her way from Michigan to New York is meant, as a conclusion, to demonstrates the value of family. Melody, young and raped and pregnant, treks alone eastward in search of her legendary grandfather, “the King of New York”. She would not have been able to make it if there had not been the help of her artifi cial relatives. And there is a listing of all those who help her and how:

She would encounter relatives everywhere—if not Orioles [her computer-bestowed middle name], then at least birds or living things Chapter 3 Animal Companionship: A Mirror of Human Loneliness 185

of some kind. They would feed her and point the way. One would give her a raincoat. Another would give her a sweater and a magnetic compass. Another would give her an alarm clock. Another would give her a needle and thread, and a gold thimble, too. Another would row her across the Harlem River to the Island of Death [Manhattan], at the risk of his own life. (SS 243)

What is at work is human fellowship, the spontaneity of offering help at the sight of the needy. Small as their help is, the people exhibit their “common decency” that means life to Melody. Here the notion of extended family has actually transcended all barriers of family names or middle names and is extended to the whole human race. The phrase “birds and living things” even indicates the extension of fellowship to all living creatures. Reed feels baffled by the phrase, uncertain about the connotation of the phrase. “The phrase ‘birds and living things’ remains ambiguous, referring doubtless to other artifi cial families with bird or beast names but almost as certainly to all living things as relative,” he observes, but then, as if ashamed of such a “far-fetched” interpretation, he corrects himself, “Certainly the notion of a human family is underlined in the recitation of the aids and comforts rendered to Melody as she treks eastward” (1996: 116). As a matter of fact, if we take into consideration the contents of Dr. Redfi eld’s theory of the folk society in which there is a special emphasis that in the folk society “much besides human beings is treated personally”, we will not feel surprised that Vonnegut should want to include “birds and living things” into the extended family scheme. In his address to the National Institute of Arts and Letters, 1971, Vonnegut quotes at length from Dr. Redfi eld’s theory of the Folk Society: Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 186 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Thus nature, too, is treated personally; the elements, and the features of the landscape, the animals, and especially anything in the environment which by its appearance or behavior suggests the attributes of mankind—to all these are attributed qualities of the human person (WFG 178).

Along with Vonnegut’s fascination with the animal world since young, this belief that all elements in nature, human or nonhuman, belong to the folk society and are to be treated with respect makes Vonnegut’s ideal extended families all-embracing and boundless. Eventually, birds and living things will not only be the middle names for people, but real, living companions of humans in life. Chapter 4

Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the ” Paragon of Animals”

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infi nite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! (Hamlet, Ⅱ, ii)

For centuries, Hamlet’s eulogy of man as “the paragon of animals” next only to angels and God in the Great Chain of Being has been regarded as one of the finest expressions of man’s successful elevation from the world of beasts. It consummately sums up the Western belief since Aristotle that man is apart from and superior to animals. With its assistance, the insuperable line between humans and animals has become further fortifi ed. However, while canonizing Hamlet’s celebration of man’s nobility and power, we cannot ignore the following part of the speech: “and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? /Man delights not me—nor woman neither, though by your smiling you /seem to say so.” After all, Hamlet Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 188 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

is making the remarks to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who he knows very well are sent by the king to test his state of sanity. Is Hamlet serious with his laudatory evaluation of man, or he is simply poking fun at the prevailing Renaissance concept, as he does many other conventions of the era in his feigned madness? In Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), Vonnegut gives his answer. In a novel that is based on real war experiences and is supposed to be a protest against war, Vonnegut creates a gallery of animal images: dogs, horses, pigs, birds, giraffes, snakes, bugs, flamingos, carps, etc. Besides these individual images, the two overarching images of the novel are definitely animal- ridden: the slaughterhouse and the zoo. In a word, there are more animal images in Slaughterhouse-Five than we tend to believe. As Erica Fudge points out in her study of the human-animal relationship in early modern English culture, “humans define themselves as human in the face of animal” (Fudge 2000: 1). With these animal images both as subject matter and rhetorical vehicle, Vonnegut investigates the meaning of humanity and tinkers with the idea of the insuperable line. What he achieves upgrades the book from simply another anti-war novel to a masterpiece of critique of humanity. As to the Hamlet riddle, his answer is unequivocally negative: No. Man is not the “paragon of animals”. At best, he is one of them; at worst, he is even lower.

Ⅰ. Slaughterhouse-Five: A Story of Blurred Boundaries

In Timequake (1997), the author’s self-alleged last novel, an autobiographical mixture of experience, thought, and imagination, Vonnegut distinguishes two kinds of writers: swoopers and bashers.

Writers who are swoopers, it seems to me, find it wonderful Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 189

that people are funny or tragic or whatever, worth reporting, without wondering why or how people are alive in the fi rst place. Bashers, while ostensibly making sentence after sentence as efficient as possible, may actually be breaking down seeming doors and fences, cutting their ways through seeming barbed-wire entanglements, under fi re and in an atmosphere of mustard gas, in search of answers to these eternal questions. “What in heck should we be doing? What in heck is really going on?” (T 138)

In the essay, Vonnegut classifies himself as a “basher”, and he is fair. Sorting out entangled truth from lies, breaking down barriers and difficulties that block understanding, battling his way through suspicion, criticism, and even scorn, in a stubborn effort to seek answers to sophomoric but essential questions such as the meaning of life[1], is exactly what he has been doing in his five-decade career as a writer and public spokesman. The statement well describes, in particular, the writing process of Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), his “famous Dresden book” that took him twenty three years to fi nish. Besides the pain and frustration Vonnegut has to go through in writing this book, as well as the bombardment of negative reviews he has to face, the statement stakes out a momentum that has been largely ignored in Vonnegut scholarship– the impulse to disrupt established borderlines. The genesis of Slaughterhouse-Five can be said to be propelled by a moral quandary of side-taking. The Dresden story, after all, is about the indiscriminate killing of German civilians by the Allies, a military act that lacked sound strategic ground since, fi rst, Dresden was an open city and

[1] In the conversation with Laurie Clancy of 1971, Vonnegut explained his popularity with col- lege students by saying: “I suppose I talk about things that are on people’s minds—a very simple-minded, sophomoric sort of thing. Why are we on earth, what’s really going on, and all that, which you’re supposed to stop talking about when you get older” (CKV 47). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 190 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

had gathered thousands of refugees and captives but little military defense, second, Hitler’s army had already been put to rout by the time the Allies launched the destructive bombing, so the military necessity of the bombing is dubious. Therefore, in the bombing that claimed 135,000 lives, mostly civilians and refugees, there was serious confusion of the innocent and the evil, the just and the unjust, the right and the wrong. Vonnegut, as an American veteran, was to write a book condemning the atrocity on the side of the Allies while everyone was well-informed of the wickedness of Nazi Germany. This was one of the biggest diffi culties he had to deal with. Whenever he began to talk about the horror of this man-made disaster, people would tell him how much more evil deeds the Nazis had committed:

I happened to tell a University of Chicago professor at a cocktail party about the raid as I had seen it, about the book I would write. He was a member of a thing called The Committee on Social Thought. And he told me about the concentration camps, and about how the Germans had made soap and candles out of the fat of dead Jews and so on. (SF 10)

In the fi ctional part of the book, the concern of moral positioning is addressed again, with more explicit moral judgment, in the mouth of Ira C. Eaker, retired Lieutenant General of U.S.A.F. In the foreword he writes for The Destruction of Dresden, a book written by an Englishman named David Irving, the Lieutenant General remarks:

I fi nd it diffi cult to understand Englishmen or Americans who weep about enemy civilians who were killed but who have not shed a tear for our gallant crews lost in combat with a cruel enemy. […] I think it would have been well for Mr. Irving to have remembered, when he was drawing the frightful pictures of the civilians killed at Dresden, that V-I’s and V-2’s were at the very time falling on England, killing civilian men, women, and children indiscriminately, Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 191

as they were designed and launched to do. It might be well to remember Buchenwald and Coventry, too. […] I deeply regret that British and U.S. bombers killed 135,000 people in the attack on Dresden, but I remember who started the last war and I regret even more the loss of more than 5,000,000 Allied lives in the necessary effort to completely defeat and utterly destroy nazism [sic]. (SF 187)

For both the University professor and the Lieutenant General, the logic is a sound one: Because Hitler started the war and because the Nazis had done unbelievable atrocity against humanity, it was justifi able for the Allies to do similar things to his people; any guilt can be expiated in such acts. Even for people who saw the logic mistaken, such as the British Air Marshal Saundby who admitted in embarrassment that “the bombing of Dresden was a great tragedy none can deny” (SF 187), they chose to keep their mouths shut or tried to play it down by emphasizing the wickedness of the Nazis. This was what baffl ed Vonnegut: “Probably the most curious thing, in retrospect, is that I think I’m the only person who gives a damn that Dresden was bombed, because I have found no Germans to mourn the city, no Englishmen” (CKV 231). So when Vonnegut decided to write about the destruction of Dresden, it was like tackling a moral taboo, “to speak the unspeakable” (Allan 1991: 77). But the urge to tell was irresistible. “[I]t seemed a categorical imperative that I write about Dresden, the fi rebombing of Dresden, since it was the largest massacre in the history of Europe and I am a person of European extraction and I, a writer, had been present” (CKV 230). To resolve the tricky situation of positioning, however, Vonnegut needed first to overcome the suppressive ideology of political correctness, to “break down seeming doors and fences”. His unique identity as a German- American who suffered anti-German sentiments as a youth and who then Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 192 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

survived the destruction of Dresden by the Allies as an American POW in German captivity turns out to be useful. It offered him a middle ground where the victim and victimizer would meet, where their identities became complicated and interchangeable, and where the issue of right and wrong could be approached from multiple perspectives. Consequently, disrupting and crossing the borderline became a preferred mode of narrative. Stylistically, the entire story of Billy Pilgrim is based on borderline transgression, of reality and fantasy, facts and fiction, present, past, and future. Being “unstuck in time”, Billy travels between all the three temporal dimensions, between the American contemporary life of the 1960s and his experiences as a POW during WWⅡ in Germany. Kidnapped by the Tralfamadorians, either in the science-fi ction reality or in his schizophrenic illusion, Billy’s story is further complicated with experiences on an extraterrestrial planet, adding to the story one more spatial dimension. On the level of narratology, the book itself features an intricate interplay of facts and fi ction, history and fabulation, autobiography and historiography. The two chapters at the beginning and the end of the book are both the author’s truthful accounts of himself, about his writing of the book and his experiences during and after the war. They serve as the traditional prologue and epilogue to the book, in this sense. But they also constitute the framework of the story, begin and conclude it, and are thus part of the narrative. Meanwhile, the author constantly pops up in the midst of narration, reassuring the reader that, for example, “I was there” (SF 67), and “That was I. That was me” (SF 125, 148). The distinction between fi ction and fact is thus undermined. In terms of identity, examples of blurred borderlines in Slaughterhouse- Five are numerous. Billy Pilgrim and Roland Weary are captured by the German soldiers behind the German lines, a real borderline that is broken down after the Battle of the Bulge, victorious on the German side. When they are found by the Germans, instead of fighting against their enemy, Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 193 the two Americans are having a war within themselves—Weary is beating Billy to death because the latter’s unwillingness to live has caused Weary to be ditched by the two American Scouts with whom Weary fancies himself as the Three Musketeers. In contrast to Weary’s brutality, one of the Germans “helped [Billy] to his feet” and the others “came to dust the snow off Billy” (SF 53), all of which are gestures of kindness but demonstrated by the enemies. The German that helps Billy up is a fi fteen-year-old boy. To Billy, the boy is a “blond angel”, a “heavenly androgyne”, “as beautiful as Eve” (SF 53). An implied mistrust of the traditional gender distinction is discernible in such a portrayal. In Dresden, the young guard, Werner Gluck, was “tall and weak like Billy”, and “might have been a younger brother of his. They were, in fact, distant cousins, something they never found out” (SF 158). Here is a more conspicuous challenge of political identities— that enemies are actually relatives, which could be true, considering the shared ancestral origin of Americans and Europeans. In this sense, all human beings are relatives, as descendants of Adam and Eve according to Christianity, or as Homo sapiens descending from Australopithecus according evolutionary theories and anthropology, a subject Vonnegut majored in for his MA. Then we have Howard W. Campbell, who is an American but turns into an ambitious Nazi, and the German couple, who show humane concern for the suffering horses that draw Billy’s wagon. In all these cases, identities, particularly political identities, become indeterminate and fluid, sometimes even reversed. Judgment of good or bad, right or wrong, friend or enemy is no longer as easy as pie. So indeed, one of the most important dynamics of the book is the urge of transgression: nothing remains fi xed and certain; nothing is clear- cut and self-contained. There is always the impulse of “becoming” the other between the dualistic opposition of “either …or…”, turning the prejudicial binary structure into a more tolerant, inclusive “both…and…”. As Lundquist puts it while examining the novel’s innovative technique, “the Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 194 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

novel functions to reveal new viewpoints in somewhat the same way that the theory of relativity broke through the concepts of absolute space and time” (71). In this way, Vonnegut challenges the Western thinking tradition that privileges one over the other, usually to the interest of those in power. By so doing, he not only redresses the moral implications of the Dresden fi rebombing, but opens fi re at the entire Western civilization, as is alluded to in the name of the subject Edgar Derby teaches at high school before entering the war, “Contemporary Problems in Western Civilization” (SF 83). On the species level, there is even stronger implication of identity fluidity and impulses of “becoming”. Much of the blurring of identity borderline, in effect, is achieved through the images of animals. Throughout the novel, the condition of humans are constantly paralleled and put in juxtaposition with that of animals, either by means of comparison and metaphor or in parallel depictions of realistic experiences. For example, wretched, lanky, and poorly donned Billy Pilgrim is compared to a “fi lthy fl amingo” (SF 33). Emerging cautiously from their hiding place, the four stray American soldiers “crawl into a forest like the big, unlucky mammals they were” (SF 39). Paul Lazzaro, a paranoid sadist, imagines himself to become a dog shot dead by a policeman who then sends his head to a laboratory for examination of rabies (SF 144). Likewise, in his morphine- induced dream, Billy sees himself walking leisurely among giraffes in a garden, he himself a giraffe, too, chewing a juicy pear. “The giraffes accepted Billy as one of their own, as a harmless creature as preposterously specialized as themselves” (SF 99). Two female giraffes actually kiss him with their bell-like lips. Introducing the slaughterhouse for the fi rst time, the narrator hints at the shared fate between the American prisoners and that of the pigs waiting to be butchered: “It had been built as a shelter for pigs about to be butchered. Now it was going to serve as a home away from home for one hundred American prisoners of war” (SF 152). Tralfamadorians are capable of metaphor, too. Explaining the uselessness Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 195 of the Earthling free will, the Tralfamadorian guide tells Billy that they are all but “bugs trapped in amber” (SF 77, 86). On the realistic level, human experiences are also juxtaposed with those of animals. An underlying comparison can be found in Roland Weary and the two horses that draw Billy’s wagon. Both are miserable creatures suffering from excruciating pain in the feet: Weary suffers because he is forced by the German captors into a pair of hinged clogs that transform his feet “into blood puddings” (SF 64), while the horses suffer because their hooves are broken “so that every step meant agony” (SF 196), as a result of heavy burden and lack of care. Beast or human, they are both victims of unconcern that results in cruelty. As for the agent of the infl iction, it makes little difference whether it is American or German. In the episode when Billy and Weary are captured by Germans, there is a detailed description of the dog that comes along.

The dog, who had sounded so ferocious in the winter distances, was a female German shepherd. She was shivering. Her tail was between her legs. She had been borrowed that morning from a farmer. She had never been to war before. She had no idea what game was being played. Her name was Princess. (52)

The dog is obviously in great fear. She is not bred for the war and is completely confused now that she is forced into one. The dog poses a mirror for the Germans that bring her here. Of the fi ve, two were boys in their early teens, two others were too old to fight, “droolers as toothless as carp” (SF 52). As a matter of fact, they are farmers from just across the German border, “armed and clothed fragmentarily with junk taken from real soldiers who were newly dead” (SF 52). Their commander is the only real, middle-aged soldier, but he has been patched up from wounds four times, becomes “sick of war”, and is “about to quit, about to fi nd somebody to surrender to” (SF 53). The mirror of the dog also gives refl ection of the Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 196 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Americans: Billy Pilgrim, Roland Weary, Edgar Derby, and many other American soldiers are also described as either too young or too old or too sick to fi ght in the war. “You were just babies then,” said Mary O’Hare to Vonnegut when he was visiting his war buddy for war memories (SF 14). The gathering of weakling soldiers fulfills Vonnegut’s promise to Mary that he is not going to write a war novel that features tough men like John Wayne. He will call the book “The Children’s Crusade”, Mary is assured (SF 15), and it turns true. Like the female shepherd, the young soldiers are not here to fi ght a glorious war, but to suffer and have their beautiful youth, or even life, bereft. Ironically, the name of the dog, the narrator emphatically informs us, is “Princess”. The fairy tale heroine that is supposed to be noble, beautiful, and innocent is transformed into a pathetic, scared, and bewildered creature. In face of the tyranny of the war machine, German or American, human or animal, all share the same fate—to be victimized and become cannon fodder. There is a common feature among most of Vonnegut’s representation of animals: anti-anthropomorphism, which Steve Baker terms as “theriomorphism” (1993: 108). Instead of following the western tradition of anthropomorphism, a rhetoric of representing animals from the perspective of humans, attributing to nonhuman animals characteristics commonly regarded as exclusively or predominantly human, such as speaking, thinking, and emotions, Vonnegut does the opposite—he describes humans in terms of animals. So lonely and awkward Billy Pilgrim becomes a dirty flamingo and a preposterous giraffe; the four American soldiers crawl like mammals; the German guards peeked into Billy’s car “owlishly” and “cooed like doves” to the American prisoners (SF 80). Either on the fl oor of the boxcar or in the Englishmen’s theatre in the prison, American prisoners of war “made nests” and “nestled” like spoons to sleep (SF 144, 70). The German reserves take “wolfi sh bites” from sausages (SF 64), and the American turncoat Howard W. Campbell is called a snake (SF 164). Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 197

Even when personifi cation is used, such as the birds described as talking to Billy Pilgrim after the fi rebombing, the animals talk in their own language, inscrutable to the human understanding. In such reversed comparisons, Vonnegut disrupts the long-established Western human/animal hierarchy and gives relentless exposition of the chaotic existentialist condition war has turned existence into. If the anthropomorphic representation of animals is essentially anthropocentric, obliterating the non-human experience and replacing it entirely by the human, theriomorphic treatment of the distinction bears out the animal part in the human and measures human behavior against the attributes of animality, thus rejects the human separation from and superiority to the nonhuman. Speaking of humanity in terms of animality, Vonnegut debunks the human pomposity as the superior being and elucidates their similarity with the other animals, which becomes particularly glaring in times of war, as the modern warfare strips man of all the halo of glory and degrades him to the base state of existence. Dignity, beauty, rationality, free will—all the supposed human advantages are under merciless trial. When Billy and other American prisoners are put into the train boxes to be taken to Dresden, the German guards write specifi cations about the prisoners on each of the boxcars, the way people do with lifeless freight, or at best, speechless stock animals. To the German guards, each car does become “a single organism which ate and drank and excreted through its ventilators” (SF 70).

Even though Billy’s train wasn’t moving, its box-cars were kept locked tight. Nobody was to get off until the fi nal destination. To the guards who walked up and down outside, each car became a single organism which ate and drank and excreted through its ventilators. It talked or sometimes yelled through its ventilators, too. In went water and loaves of black bread and sausage and cheese, and out came shit and piss and language. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 198 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Human beings in there were excreting into steel helmets which were passed to the people at the ventilator, who dumped them. Billy was a dumper. The human beings also passed canteens, which guards would fi ll with water. When food came in, the human beings were quiet and trusting and beautiful. They shared. Human beings in there took turns standing or lying down. The legs of those who stood were like fence posts driven into a warm squirming, farting, sighing earth. The queer earth was a mosaic of sleepers who nestled like spoons. (SF 70)

Here in the voice of the omniscient narrator the American soldiers are no longer referred to by any of their cultural or social identities, such as nationality, rank, or name, but by an all-inclusive, identity-erasing biological term: “human beings”. All distinctions as individuals are eliminated, only the biological and anthropological features as a species retain. They are depicted, in effect, very much like a herd of animals, with the only exception of language. But the meaning and function of language is undercut to the minimum. It is actually paralleled to “shit and piss” in a sense that it is only another biological trait of the human beings. We seem to hear Vonnegut questioning Hamlet’s famous speech: Where is the nobility of man? How is the divinity? Is this beauty? It is true that it is the war that degrades human beings, but if humanity is capable of being brought down, isn’t it possible that the Renaissance ideal of humanism is but hubris and a self-fl attering lie? The implied comparison of prisoners to livestock leads to the association of another form of discrimination: slavery. Boxcars are also called “cattle-cars”, as they are mainly used for transporting cattle. Cattle- cars, in turn, are allusive to “cattle-boats”, the vehicle that carried slaves in great number through the “Middle Passage”. For anybody that has some background knowledge of the Second World War, cattle-cars also call to mind the tens of thousands of Jews and others that were transported to the Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 199 concentration camps. As Marjorie Spiegel points out, “this is not just an eccentricity of our language” (Spiegel 52). The conditions of these vehicles are indeed shockingly similar, all featuring fi lth, limited space, lack of care, and death. Millions of slaves and animals die on the way of transportation. In Slaughterhouse-Five, unattended deaths also occur in the boxcars, such as Wild Bob, the hobo, and Weary Roland. The implication of speciesism juxtaposed with racism is prominent. In reality, the war that Billy Pilgrim is made part of is ideologically based on the collaboration of racism and speciesism. The rhetoric that Hitler used to legitimize the subjugation and the genocide of the Jews and other racial groups is the dualism between Aryans and “subordinate” beings, the former represented as “superordinate”, the “master race”, while the latter as fundamentally different and biologically inferior, as “non- human entities such as animals, reptiles and bacteria” (Johnson 209). As Victoria Johnson points out, Hitler actually used the term “species” interchangeably with “race” in Mein Kampf (204). He drew upon the Western cultural stereotypical concepts that viewed Europeans as naturally superior to Africans, Indians, and Asian races and the widely accepted colonial practices to construct a worldview where separate species and “inferior races” became interchangeable in his rhetoric (Johnson 209). For example, as Kete notes, in a reversed human/animal hierarchy, Jews and Slavics were placed with rats, below eagles and wolves and pigs (20). The Nazi narratives justifying the domination of human subordinates, Johnson contends, are strikingly similar to the beliefs about animals that human beings use to justify the exploitation and killing of nonhuman beings. In Slaughterhouse-Five, we see the impulse of racial criticism in the narrator’s description of the hanging Billy witnesses of a Polish farmer who had sexual intercourse with a German woman (SF 156), and in his reference to the Polish people as “the involuntary clowns of the Second World War” (SF 197). The description of tens of thousands of American Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 200 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

prisoners with their hands on top of their heads moving through a valley as “a Mississippi of humiliated Americans”, sighing and groaning (SF 64), easily reminds us of the black slaves that were put into misery and suffering on the American Southern plantation. The Mississippi river, after all, is laden with associations of the inhumanity in the slave trade. Accidentally, the very book that gives the fullest account of the injustice and cruelty of slavery—Uncle Tom’s Cabin—is mentioned by the end of the book, in full commendation (SF 206). We see, too, implied parallel of racism and speciesism in the deliberate emphasis that the fat from both animals and humans are used in daily functions by the Nazis. The candles and soaps the British prisoners give to the American new arrivals in the prisoner camp “were made from the fat of rendered Jews and Gypsies and fairies and communists, and other enemies of the States” (SF 97), while the axles of the two-wheeled cart that Derby and Billy push to the kitchen in the Dresden slaughterhouse “were greased with the fat of dead animals” (SF 157). To sum up, the boundary between animals and humans are constantly under attack in Slaughterhouse-Five. In the theriomorphic depiction of the human condition we see a strong disbelief in the supremacy of human beings over other animals. In face of war and oppression, animals and humans share the same fate of victimization. The classic ideal of humanism that celebrates man’s dignity and autonomy as a rational entity elevated from the natural world becomes severely shattered in the brutality of war. In light of this understanding, the significance of two major images in the novel bears out: the slaughterhouse and the zoo. First of all, as metaphors there is obvious displacement of the signifi er and the signifi ed in the two animal-based images, the animals replaced by the human—Billy Pilgrim, the incarnation of the contemporary Everyman. Both metaphors signal the breakdown of the boundary between animality and humanity and the dismantling of its ensuing hierarchy. Secondly, both images retain the literal signifi cation of animals, one as the place where animals are killed Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 201 for food, the other as the institution where animals are kept and displayed as specimens. Where Billy Pilgrim the pathetic protagonist evokes pity and sympathy, therefore, similar compassion is encouraged to be directed to the animals as well. In this way, Vonnegut effectively enlarges the domain of moral concerns and extends the humanitarian consideration beyond the human realm to the animal world, thus he revolutionizes the traditional concept of humanism and calls for a redefi nition of humanity itself.

Ⅱ. Survivors in the Slaughterhouse

The animal connotation of the word “slaughterhouse” is apparent: it is a place where animals are killed for consumption, usually in large quantity. In the literature of war, the word’s metaphorical meaning has also become an established trope: the battlefi eld is like a slaughterhouse where lives are destroyed in the most careless way, usually in large number. There are representative works in American literature that emphasize either of the meanings of the word. For example, Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle (1906) exposes with journalistic truthfulness the horrifying conditions of the meatpacking industry in Chicago at the turn of the 20th century, while The Red Badge of Courage (1896) discloses the senseless nature of war in its butchering of lives. What is unique about Slaughterhouse- Five, however, is that both of the significations are addressed: it is a superb novel that portrays the cruelty and meaninglessness of war, but at the same time, the slaughterhouse is a real locus in the novel, instead of a “disembodied” metaphor only. While most critics have taken for granted the fi rst signifi cation of the word, they largely ignore the second. I believe, nevertheless, there are particular implications in the plot that Billy and a hundred other American prisoners survive the devouring firebombing of Dresden by hiding in the underground meat locker of an actual slaughterhouse. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 202 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

The theme that war is like a slaughterhouse is almost self-evident in Slaughterhouse-Five. First of all, the title makes unequivocal suggestion of the allusion. Then in Chapter One, the narrator directly refers to Dresden firebombing as a “massacre”, the equivalent of slaughter with a human connotation. When the author-narrator makes it a commandment for his sons that “they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee” (SF 19), he is basically implying that all wars are like , regardless of its proclaimed goals. The most straightforward and eloquent castigation of the “senseless slaughter” in war is given in Chapter Five, when Billy Pilgrim describes to the Tralfamadorians the Earthling’s self-destructive killing:

“As you know, I am from a planet that has been engaged in senseless slaughter since the beginning of time. I myself have seen the bodies of schoolgirls who were boiled alive in a water tower by my own countrymen, who were proud of fighting pure evil at the time.” This was true. Billy saw the boiled bodies in Dresden. “And I have lit my way in a prison at night with candles from the fat of human beings who were butchered by the brothers and fathers of those schoolgirls who were boiled. Earthlings must be the terrors of the Universe!” (SF 116)

What Billy is referring to is the horrible act the Nazis did to the Jews in the concentration camps and what happened during the Dresden firebombing—when people jumped into city fountains in the hope of escaping the heat from the burning air, they only found themselves plunged into scalding water. The reference to the military people as “brothers and fathers” to the schoolgirls is both metaphorical and realistic. In the cosmic perspective created in the notion of the Tralfamadore, all Earthlings are kindred. The killing among Earthlings, then, is virtually killing one’s own Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 203 blood. For Billy, such slaughtering has never stopped “since the beginning of time”. Back on the Earth, America is getting deeper and deeper entangled in a war in Vietnam, losing more and more of its young people. Still, at one of the Lions Club luncheon meetings, Billy hears a Marine major loudly advocate increased bombings in Vietnam, “of bombing North Vietnam back into the Stone Age, if it refused to see reason” (SF 60). The irony is conspicuous: reason is to be achieved in the worst act of irrationality. Besides, slaughtering takes place in many other forms, among which are murder and assassination. Only “two nights” before the book is finished, we are told by the narrator in the last chapter, Robert Kennedy was shot, and “[h]e died last night. So it goes […] Martin Luther King was shot a month ago. He died, too. So it goes” (SF 210). In the world of Slaughterhouse-Five, Killing and death become common phenomena. Slaughtering is happening everywhere. To add to the illustration of humanity’s maniac propensity for killing and torturing, the narrator dwells on Weary’s father’s horrid collection of “guns and swords and torture instruments and leg irons and so on” (SF 35). The description of Iron Maiden, a medieval torture instrument, is sickening: it is a sort of boiler “which was shaped like a woman on the outside–and lined with spikes. The front of the woman was composed of two hinged doors. The idea was to put a criminal inside and then close the doors slowly. There were two special spikes where his eyes would be. There was a drain in the bottom to let out all the blood” (SF 36). One cannot help but wonder whether we should admire the ingenuity in the design or feel ashamed for the extent human cruelty can reach. As a matter of fact, only the combination of the two, ingenuity and cruelty, can create such inhuman instruments. Weary’s invention of the worst form of execution is another example: “You stake a guy out on an anthill in the desert […] He’s facing upward, and you put honey all over his balls and pecker, and you cut off his eyelids so he has to star at the sun till he dies” (SF 36-7). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 204 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

In his discussion of “inhuman fictions of Swift and Defoe”, Philip Armstrong identifi es a kind of inhumanity in the writings of both writers, “the kind of savagery that results from an excessive faith in rationality” (24). In Gulliver’s Travels, for example, such savagery is exemplified in Gulliver’s “trigger-happy enthusiasm for modern armaments”. Swift’s ridicule of such enthusiasm is made in the mouth of the king of Brobdingnag. When Gulliver cheerfully describes the military use of explosives as evidence of the genius of his species, the king of Brobdingnag reacts with disgusted amazement that “so impotent and groveling an Insect as I could entertain such inhuman Ideas, and in so familiar a manner as to appear wholly unmoved at all the Scenes of Blood and Desolation” (qtd. in P. Armstrong 24). Armstrong rightly points out that the inhumanity that the Brobdingnag king identifies is “located at the very heart of modern European polity itself” (24). It is exactly the same kind of inhumanity that Vonnegut aims to expose in the collection of torturing instrument and Weary’s fantasy of mutilation. The propensity for detached, reasoned, and calculated ruthlessness the 18th century satirist attacks is still at work in the 20th century. As it is, Weary and his father are not exceptional: “He belonged to a big club composed of people who collected things like that” (SF 35). This reveals how extensive and massive such cruel and sadist torturing is in the human history and how much people are still fascinated by and take pleasure in the idea of torturing, even in times of high civilization. Here we see Vonnegut asking the same question that his much admired precursor, Mark Twain, asked: Why humans can be so cruel to one another? The answer Billy gets from the “wise” Tralfamadorians is resigned acceptance: “Ignore the awful times, and concentrate on the good ones” (SF 117). There simply seems no way to stop it. On the night of February 13, 1945, the biggest human slaughter in the European history took place in Dresden. As a survivor of the traumatic Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 205 event, Vonnegut makes bearing witness the central concern of his book. However, as he says in Chapter One, “there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre” (SF 19). In the fi nal outcome of long years of struggling for painful memories and methods of expression, the description of the fi rebombing is still fl imsy, indirect, and scattered, as if the author is still trying to avoid direct treatment of the horror and pain. The image of the slaughterhouse becomes instrumental in this respect, both in its realistic function and the metaphorical meaning. Hiding in the meat locker two stories underground, Billy and his fellow American prisoners as well as their four German guards are shielded from the heat and smoke, but they are also precluded from seeing what is actually happening up there. So the duty of a realistic report is absolved. What comes out is largely abstract and impressionistic. The only direct experience of the fi rebombing is “sounds like giant footsteps above” and “an occasional shower of calcimine” (SF 177). The guards, upon returning from a peep at the head of the stairs, report that “[t]here was a fi re-storm out there. Dresden was one big fl ame. The one flame ate everything organic, everything that would burn” (SF 178). When it becomes finally safe for them to come out the next noon, Dresden, the “Florence of Elbe”, “the loveliest city that most of the Americans had ever seen” (SF 148), is gone. “Dresden was like the moon now, nothing but minerals. The stones were hot. Everybody else in the neighborhood was dead” (SF 178). Soon Billy and other prisoners are made to dig up corpses from under the debris. When the corpses begin to rot and liquefy and stink like “rose and mustard gas” (SF 214), they are cremated by soldiers with fl amethrowers right where they are. Here lies the most important metaphorical significance of the slaughterhouse image, an irony of the bitterest kind: the slaughterhouse where killing is normally conducted becomes a life-saving sanctuary, whereas above the ground, the city of ancient civilization becomes a huge slaughterhouse. Even more ironic for Billy and for Vonnegut is that the Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 206 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

“butchers” behind this human slaughter is not devilish Hitler, but the Allies, their own folks, the supposed army of justice. However, the slaughterhouse is not only a metaphor. It is a realistic setting, too—there is truly a slaughterhouse in the novel. This might be the reason why Vonnegut keeps the number “Five” in the tile—to indicate that this is a specifi c slaughterhouse, a real one. As the title of the book, “Slaughterhouse-Five” does not appear until near the end of the book (at the end of Chapter Six, on page 153, in a book of ten chapters and 215 pages). When the place is introduced to us, there is clear foregrounding of the literal meaning of the word: “The slaughterhouse wasn’t a busy place any more. Almost all the hooved animals in Germany had been killed and eaten and excreted by human beings, mostly soldiers”, and, “It had been built as a shelter for pigs about to be butchered. Now it was going to serve as a home away from home for one hundred American prisoners of war” (SF 152). In Chapter Eight, when the Americans and their German guards take shelter in the meat locker, they see—and we readers see through their eyes—real, butchered animals: “Down in the locker were a few cattle and sheep and pigs and horses hanging from iron hooks,” and “the locker had empty hooks for thousands more” (SF 165). So it is made certain that this slaughterhouse has been in actual service. The files of hanging carcasses of farm animals and the empty hooks well inform us of the busy state of the slaughterhouse in peacetime and of the squealing and groaning of these “hooved animals”. The cruelty as described in Chapter Two of this book is called to mind. In effect, the narrator subtly calls our attention to the moral standing of the killing and consumption of animals when he puts the three steps of consumption in quick succession: killing, eating, and excretion, and clearly identifies the doer of the actions: human beings. It reveals how unfeeling people are to the animals they eat. It is almost a mechanic process, without any involvement of emotive concerns. But the narrator’s persistent refrain “So Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 207 it goes” rings an alarm against such numbness and unconcern. As a unique feature of Vonnegut’s narration in Slaughterhouse-Five, the phrase “So it goes” has invited various interpretations. In light of the animal-human relationship, the phrase shows Vonnegut’s intention to undercut the distinction between species and races, nationalities and beliefs, even military stances, because it appears after every mentioning of death, momentous or insignificant, American or German, humans or animals. Rather than a sign of indifference or callousness to death, it is a sigh of mourning and a mark of respect for the dead. Since the narrator makes the sigh after every case of death, it shows his lament over the general debased condition of life in the universe, his esteem for life and his ideal of equality and harmony for all beings in the world. With the presence of the realistic referent in the image of slaughterhouse, Vonnegut points out another aspect of the cruelty of war. Humans not only kill in large number their own kind, but also numerous other species that are totally innocent of the sin or crime that the war is claimed to punish. If justice and revenge are the justifi cation for the killing of human enemies, how do we legitimize the killing and victimization of the nonhuman animals? In the scholarship of Kurt Vonnegut, when people talk about the significance of the title “Slaughterhouse-Five”, they usually focus on its metaphorical meaning, the theme that the value of human beings is debased in the war and people are killed like animals on the battlefield. The meaning of “slaughterhouse” in the realistic order is often ignored. It refl ects people’s habitual human-centered bias against animals as being of importance in their own right. Thinking of slaughterhouse as metaphor only in effect naturalizes the cruel treatment of animals, which absolves any sense of guilt in us. The logic goes like this: It is, or may be, fi tting and natural to kill animals in this fashion, but not humans, so it deserves mourning and reflection when such cruelty happens to humans. Human Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 208 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

suffering is substituted for animal suffering without appreciating the latter. When examining the role of the lambs in the movie The Silence of the Lambs (1991), Jhan Hochman points out this anthropocentric tendency in our thinking. While Clarice, the heroine, suffers from disturbed sleep because of the screaming of lambs which originates in her childhood on a ranch near a slaughterhouse, attempts to stop the screaming are made mainly through metaphor, “substituting people, Christian lambs, women in need, or just people, for screaming lambs” (300). The victory in rescuing Catherine, a female victim, from the killer Buffalo Bill thus serves to relieve the screaming of the lambs. But Hochman reminds us that “these are lambs of the mind whose fate displaces that of real lambs, an erasure that eliminates the topic of animal cruelty that is unwittingly revealed by the title of the film” (Garrard 148). The suffering of the real is left unattended in the end of the movie. In her seminal book The Sexual Politics of Meat, Carol Adams isolates and names the phenomenon whereby animal suffering is appropriated and substituted, mainly in discourse, in human suffering. She calls the animal entity displaced as the “absent referent”:

The animals have become absent referents, whose fate is transmuted into a metaphor for someone else’s existence or fate. Metaphorically, the absent referent can be anything whose original meaning is undercut as it is absorbed into a different hierarchy of meaning; in this case the original meaning of animals’ fates is absorbed into a human-centered hierarchy.” (2010: 67)

The common practice among critics to overlook the significance of the animals in the image of “slaughterhouse” speaks well of the structure of the absent referent. Treating animals as absent referents, Vonnegut critics fail to accord the animals their own existence, a tendency which, as we have seen, Vonnegut tries to avoid. By entitling after the slaughterhouse Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 209 the book that has caused him so much pain and frustration, Vonnegut, I think, wants to rescue the animals from becoming “absent referents” and to convey more than the word’s metaphorical significance. After all, the battlefi eld as a slaughterhouse is not an original invention of his. Sticking to it only makes him one other writer in the tradition of The Red Badge of Courage, although it is also true, as indicated by the twice mentioning of Stephen Crane’s book, read by the only “heroic” character in the novel Edgar Derby (SF 99, 105). Vonnegut is to do something more. Not only does he aim to condemn the dehumanizing war, he is also to interrogate humanity in general: its follies, its arrogance, and its inhumanity. This may explain the intricate interweaving of Billy’s experiences of war with his life in peacetime contemporary America. As Douglass Brinkley puts it in his interview with Vonnegut, “Yes, the Nazis were the mega-villains but, in the end, Vonnegut’s anger and despair was laid on the evil doorstep of the whole damned human race” (Brinkley 2007). As a great lover of animals and a humanitarian writer, Vonnegut is fully aware that in the treatment of animals reveals human cruelty, which is especially true in wars. By keeping alive both its metaphorical and realistic meaning and by juxtaposing humans and animals in the image of the slaughterhouse, Vonnegut ingenuously enlarges his critical vision and significantly enhanced the power of his humanity critique.

Ⅲ. The Man in the Zoo

In the zoo image of Slaughterhouse-Five, the displacement of the signifi ed is more complete—there seems no animal in the zoo. The animal seems to have truly become “absent referent” in this metaphor. However, the animal is not absent. It is only not what we customarily know of as the “animal”—the nonhuman animal. What happens in the novel is that the animal in the limited use of the word, its anthropocentrically biased usage, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 210 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

is replaced by a human being, whose status as an animal species is often ignored. Therefore, whereas humans are “like” slaughtered animals in the war, in the Tralfamadore zoo the human “is” the animal. Billy Pilgrim is the animal, a specimen of an exotic species to the Tralfamadorians–the Earthlings. As in the case of the slaughterhouse, the zoo in which he is put on display is real. Every detail of the description about the Tralfamadore zoo points to the Earthlings’ modern zoo. Even for the reader who has the minimum experience of zoo visit, it is not hard to grasp the mocking allusion in the Tralfamadore zoo to that of the human community:

Billy was displayed there in the zoo in a simulated Earthling habitat. Most of the furnishings had been stolen from the Sears Roebuck warehouse in Iowa City, Iowa. There was a color television set and a couch that could be converted into a bed. There were end tables with lamps and ashtrays on them by the couch. There was a home bar and two stools. There was a little pool table. There was wall-to-wall carpeting in federal gold, except in the kitchen and bathroom areas and over the iron manhole cover in the center of the fl oor. There were magazines arranged in a fan on the coffee table in front of the couch. There was a stereophonic phonograph. There phonograph worked. The television didn’t. There was a picture of one cowboy killing another one pasted to the television tube. So it goes. There were no walls in the dome, no place for Billy to hide. The mint green bathroom fi xtures were right out in the open. Billy got off his lounge chair now, went into the bathroom and took a leak. The crowd went wild. (SF 112)

The mechanic repetition of the “there be” sentence structure in the description intensifi es the unreality and artifi ciality of the zoo environment. Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 211

The carefully chosen furniture, real as it mostly is, serves only as a token for the real, a simulacrum of the Earthling home. The magazines arranged in a fan on the coffee table and the picture pasted to the television to imitate the show of a program hilariously mocks the pretended reality of the whole setup. It is more for the fun of the spectator than for the necessity of the zoo animal. It easily calls to mind the artificial environment in the Earthling zoos that is often set to create an illusion of reality: the dead branches of a tree for monkeys, artifi cial rocks for bears, pebbles and shallow water for crocodiles, white washed walls and fl oating chunks of ice for penguins… Behind the simulacrum of the natural habitat is the cruel reality that these animals, like Billy Pilgrim, can enjoy freedom only within the limits of confi nement and are utterly dependent on their keepers. “Escape was out of the question. The atmosphere outside the dome was cyanide, and Earth was 446,120,000,000,000,000 miles away” (SF 112). Taken thousands of miles away from their natural habitats, the animals may be likewise put in a place where the natural environment is fatally alien and hostile, not to mention the agony caused by the separation from family and community. In such an environment Billy moves around, naked, doing everything in full view to the gazing crowd outside. “The Tralfamadorians were interested in his body—all of it”, and “[m]ost Tralfamadorians had no way of knowing Billy’s body and face were not beautiful. They supposed that he was a splendid specimen” (SF 112, 113). There is a guide explaining what Billy is doing and why. All of this again is highly allusive to the common scene in the modern zoo: the visitors’ rude curiosity and inquisitiveness on the one hand, the animals’ lethargy, anxiety, and sullenness on the other. Here we may also recall Vonnegut’s experience with the zoo in Dresden and the miserable fates of the zoo animals after the firebombing: “The Dresden zoo, blown open by direct hits, had released its ark of animals into the wild. The men spotted a llama mounting slopes of debris. Exotic birds, with no trees to sit in, preened themselves on twisted iron railings. A Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 212 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

chimpanzee, once popular with children, sat alone without hands” (Shields 71). In the novel, the narrator does make a note that “there was a zoo” when Billy fi rst enters Dresden. So as is said earlier, Vonnegut may well have in mind the realistic zoo in mind when he was working on the fabrication of the Tralfamadore zoo for Billy. By placing the protagonist into a zoo cage, Vonnegut creates a unique case of transformation. Instead of actual physical transformation, a transposition of roles takes place—the human becomes the animal and the object of gaze. In this way, he throws light on the rudeness and irreverence of the human gaze at zoo animals, the cruelty and selfi shness in taking the animals away from their native habitats and putting them in long-term confinement, and the foolishness for humans to believe that the specimen in the zoo is representative of the whole of its species. Here Vonnegut demonstrates an insight that is quite close to that of many animal-studies scholars. John Berger believes that zoo animals are the objects of the imperial gaze people turn on wild animals, in which one’s alienated distance is proportionate to one’s power so that “[i]n the zoo, the view is always wrong. Like an image out of focus. […] However you look at these animals, […] you are looking at something that has been rendered absolutely marginal” (1980: 22). While Yi-fu Tuan agrees that the zoo provides visitors an opportunity to appreciate the variety and splendor of nature, he believes that zoos also allow visitors “to feel superior to the caged beasts and to acknowledge aspects of behavior, such as eating and copulation, that they fi nd disturbing and faintly disgusting when practiced by themselves” (80). Randy Malamud expresses even stronger critique in his exhaustive analysis of zoo stories in Reading Zoos (1998). According to him, zoos distort people’s perception of animals and are a spectacle of imperialist or neocolonial power: “Rather than fostering an appreciation for animals’ attributes, zoos convince people that we are the imperial species” (1998: 2). Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 213

In the portrayal of the Tralfamadore zoo, Vonnegut literalizes the tension around the modern zoo. The Tralfamadorians’ view of Billy as an Earthling specimen is distorted. They don’t see human beings as two- legged creatures, but as great millepedes—“with babies’ legs at one end and old people’s legs at the other” (SF 87). They constantly display a sense of superiority to Billy, reminding him from time to time how stupid he is by closing their little hands on their eyes. When Montana is kidnapped and taken to the zoo to make Billy a mate, the Tralfamadorians demonstrate the strongest case of voyeurism: “All attendance records for the zoo were broken. Everybody on the planet wants to see the Earthlings mate” (SF 132). Montana’s piecing and prolonged screams upon seeing the big, gazing crowd outside the dome remind us of the humiliation and suffering zoo animals must have felt in our zoos. All of the Tralfamadorian behavior toward Billy have human counterpart on Earth—maybe with the exception that when they see how scared Montana is, the Tralfamadorians have a blue canopy dropped over the dome, creating artifi cial night and privacy for Montana and Billy. In this sense, the Tralfamadore zoo seems to be more humane than the Earthling one. In a word, being treated as an exotic animal, Billy Pilgrim plays the role as the spokesperson for the sufferings of the nonhuman animals in the human world. Vonnegut gives the zoo image one more twist, though. He does not simply follow the animal rights logic that zoos are morally indefensible because animals are not treated as individuals with independent value, but only used to serve certain purposes, whether educational, entertaining, conservational, or scientific. He follows it halfway and then makes a surprising turn: despite the loss of freedom and privacy, Billy enjoys his life in the zoo. When asked by the Tralfamadorian spectators whether he is happy there, Billy answers: “About as happy as I was on Earth” (SF 114). This seems true. Thanks to the Tralfamadorians’ favorable misconception of his physical appearance, Billy for the fi rst time “begins to enjoy his body”, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 214 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

doing all kinds of exercises daily to keep it fit. It is also in the zoo that Billy has the fi rst experience of “heavenly” sexual life and even has a baby with Montana. More importantly, Billy becomes very communicative and eloquent in the zoo, which is in sharp contrast to his wartime dumbness and inarticulateness. He volubly exchanges opinions with the Tralfamadorian guide and is willing to talk with his “arranged wife” Montana about his war experiences. According to Tom Ragan, zoos are only justifi able when it is “in the best interests” of the captured animal (S. Armstrong 455). Billy’s experience seems a good example of such. But what Vonnegut intends to do is not to lend support to the zoo (although this might be a concern, as the zoo truly is an ambiguous issue in its functions), but to put in sharp relief the unbearable condition of life on Earth. Life on Earth is no better than life in the Tralfamadore zoo—this is the implied meaning in Billy’s answer to the Tralfamadorian’s question. When we consider the kind of life he lives on earth, before, during, and after the war, it is not hard to see his point. As a child, Billy is constantly put in fear of overwhelming death, such as in his experience of learning to swim by his father’s method of “sink-or-swim” (SF 42), and when he stands on the verge of the Grand Canyon. Wartime experience is only worse. As a young man at the end of childhood, he is thrown into the chaos of war and becomes completely at a loss, as preposterous as a “fi lthy fl amingo” (SF 53). Unstuck in time, Billy shares an unfortunate fate with Hamlet. Both young men realize that the time is “out of joint”, but while the Shakespearean hero seeks to set things right, Billy gives himself in to the time warp and everything that comes at him. After he finally gets warm clothes and shoes for himself in the German prison camp, Billy fi nds himself turn into a clown, with silver boots, a muff, and a toga made of a piece of azure curtain (SF 147). Life becomes a joke, but there is no light-hearted laughter. It is a life in death, meaningless, purposeless, and hopeless. Even when he becomes a well-to-do optometrist after the war, Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 215

Billy is not happy. His rich, obese wife brings him success and wealth but cannot reach his heart. Later, his bossy daughter treats him as a childish old fart. Nobody truly understands the pain he lives with in the shadow of the war. Like Dwayne of Breakfast of Champions, despite all the money he makes and all the clubs he belongs to, Billy is lonely. Besides, even in peacetime, violent, unnatural deaths seem an inevitable reality. Billy’s father is killed by a friend while hunting, his wife dies from carbon monoxide in her own Cadillac crashed and shattered in her rush to see Billy at the hospital after an air crash; the young veteran elevator driver dies squashed in the elevator car he drives because his wedding ring is caught in the ornaments of the elevator door (SF 9). All these deaths are uncanny and horrible, illustrating the general absurdity of human existence. On the macrocosmic level, the Tralfamadore zoo, like the Dresden slaughterhouse, serves as a metaphor of irony and satire, “a sort of looking- glass extension of Earth” (McNelly 93). Placed on another planet, the zoo creates a necessary distance and a cosmic perspective for the observation of the human world, in the same way as the Houyhnhnms serve for Gulliver. According to Robert Scholes, science fi ction is “fi ction that offers us a world clearly and radically discontinuous from the one we know, yet returns to confront that known world in some cognitive way” (29). In Slaughterhouse-Five, the creation of the Tralfamadore zoo enables Vonnegut to distance himself from Earth and makes an observation of his own race. He is enabled to face problems he cannot otherwise face directly, to make a more general critique of humanity, and to search for answers to the eternal questions such as “What in heck should we be doing? What in heck is really going on?” First of all, the assumed supremacy of human beings is relentlessly attacked. Seen in the eyes of the Tralfamadorians, the Earthlings are nothing more than a species in the vast universe and are by no means the smartest. Their perceptions of time and mortality are ridiculously limited. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 216 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

As the zoo guide explains to his audience, Billy, the poor Earthling, is such a creature whose head is encased in a steel sphere which he could never take off.

There was only one eyehole through which he could look, and welded to that eyehole were six feet of pipe. […] He was also strapped to a steel lattice which was bolted to a fl atcar on rails, and there was no way he could turn is head or touch the pipe. The far end of the pipe rested on a bi-pod which was also bolted to the fl atcar. All Billy could see was the little dot at the end of the pipe. He didn’t know he was on a fl atcar, didn’t even know there was anything peculiar about his situation. (SF 115)

In this screamingly funny and ridiculing description, we are led to realize, in annoyance and unease, how limited and “structured” the human vision is, and yet how foolishly complacent we are at the same time. As the zoo guide shows his audience, with the head entrapped in the cage and all movement confi ned and controlled on a running fl atcar, we never come to the awareness that there might be something wrong with what we see or the way we see. Instead, we comfort ourselves by saying: “That’s life” (SF 115). Even the assumption that humans can be critically bad and dangerous is deflated. When Billy Pilgrim speaks “soaringly” of the danger that “the Earthling combination of ferocity and spectacular weaponry might eventually destroy part or maybe all of the innocent Universe”, the Tralfamadorians “close their little hand on their eyes”, a gesture that means “He was being stupid” (SF 115-6). Earth, the Trafamadorian guide tells Billy, has nothing to do with the end of the universe, because it is the Tralfamadorians who blow it up, when they experiment with new fuels for their fl ying saucers (SF 116-7). That is to say, even in the self-critical assumption that the Earthlings are as evil as can destroy the whole universe, Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 217 there is too much pomposity. The Tralfamadorian fatalism would not allow even such illusions to go undisturbed. Thus the self-imposed supremacy of the Earthlings is contemptuously denounced. Down goes man from the sacred altar as the “paragon of animals”, where he has been upheld for centuries. Gone is the self-delusion as an especially favored species. Man is fi nally brought down to earth, to come to terms with what he truly is. Another delusion that Billy’s extraterrestrial experience debunks is the belief that human beings are rational creatures and creatures of free will. Upon being abducted onto the Tralfamadorian saucer, Billy’s first question is: “why me?” He is immediately shown the foolishness of the question: “That is a very Earthling question to ask. … Why you? Why us for that matter?” (SF 76) He learns by and by that “there is no why”, and that people are all “bugs trapped in amber” (SF 77). Even though the Tralfamadorians know how they will end the universe, they do nothing to prevent it because they believe “the moment is structured that way” (SF 117). The Earthlings’ insistence on rationalization is simply a fallacy. As the Tralfamadorian guide tells Billy, among the 31 inhabited planets that he visited, “only on Earth is there any talk of free will” (SF 86). The lesson he teaches the Earthling is an elaboration of the discovery Winston Niles Rumfoord makes in The Sirens of Titan, the book where Tralfamadore fi rst appears, that “everything that ever has been always will be, and everything that ever will be always has been” (ST 20). When examining the function of science fiction in Slaughterhouse- Five, many critics agree that Billy’s time travel and extraterrestrial experience are self-defense mechanisms for a man in face of the sheer horror of life. In other words, the Tralfamadore does not truly exist but are fantasies in Billy’s mind with which he takes refuge from his traumatic experiences. There is much validity in this understanding. As an innocent, sensitive, and awkward young man, Billy Pilgrim has encountered too much death and violence to live a normal life. It is only natural for him Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 218 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

to seek shelter and consolation in illusions and fantasies, to “construct a world of his own”. But the fantasies are not entirely escapist in nature, I think. They are the refracted refl ection of the chaos and absurdity Billy is made to live with, and there is a continuation of Billy’s desperate search for meaning that has been denied him in reality. The scene of Billy asking the Tralfamadorians “Why me?”, for example, is conspicuously parallel to a scene in the Nazi prison. When one of Billy’s fellow prisoners is beaten gratuitously by a German guard, the prisoner asks: “why me?” He is given a Tralfadadorian answer: “Vy you? Vy anybody?” (SF 91) The parallelism suggests that what perplexes Billy in real life continues to bother him in his illusive world. The lesson that the Tralfamadorian guide teaches him in the zoo is only a refl ection of Billy’s attempt to make sense out of absurdity, to make a choice out of no choice, which, in turn, is a refl ection of Vonnegut’s desire to make sense of the chaotic and helpless human existence. As Merrill and Scholl have observed, Billy is one of those people Vonnegut is referring to when he says, “There are people, particularly dumb people, who are in terrible trouble and never get out of it, because they’re not intelligent enough. And it strikes me as gruesome and comical that in our culture we have an expectation that a man can always solve his problems” (WFG 258). Overwhelmed with the demand to rationalize chaos, Billy can only “solve his problems by saying that they are insoluble” (Merrill 1990: 146). After all, he has to survive, and the need for supreme fi ction is a “very human trait” (Merrill 1990: 146). Therefore, as in the case of the slaughterhouse, by portraying a character who enjoys a life as a zoo animal and who is resigned to fatalism and quietism, Vonnegut is not to endorse irrationality and nihilism, as many critics tend to believe, but to shock readers by means of defamiliarization into recognition of how absurd and dehumanizing the modern world is. In both the two overarching formulations: “survivors in a slaughterhouse” and “the man in a zoo”, the distinction between the human Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 219 and the nonhuman is disturbed. Rationality, the benchmark of humanity, is taken to task, not for the effect of total renunciation, but to point out the danger of an overdose of it and when it serves the purpose of evil. In the Dresden fi rebombing and the collection of horrid torture instruments, there is too much rationality at work behind their stunning brutality. Edgar Derby’s remarks elucidate this when he confronts Campbell, who comes to the slaughterhouse to recruit men for the German military unit he invents, “The Free American Corps” (SF 162). Derby calls Campbell a snake, but he immediately corrects himself, contending “that snakes couldn’t help being snakes, and that Campbell, who could help being what he was, was something much lower than a snake or a rat—or even a blood-fi lled tick” (SF 164). In this reasoning, the human/animal hierarchy is reversed. The key factor that renders the reversal is the human capability to make a choice, namely, his free will and rationality. In the words of John Simmons, it is exactly rationality that makes humans “inhuman” (Simons 126). Nonhuman animals cannot be inhuman because they mainly act upon instincts and do not take on the rational thought processes that defi ne “inhumanity”. Thus, the rationality that conventionally denotes humanity as superior to the animal world becomes “a marker of this inhumanity” (Simons 126) and turns into a weapon against humanity itself. Because of his brave confrontation with Campbell, Derby is accredited as a “character” in a characterless novel and the moment of his confrontation with Campbell is described as “the finest moment in his life” (SF 164). From these facts we can see the centrality of the critique of rationality and the concept of reversed hierarchy of the human-animal relationship in Vonnegut’s philosophy. Are humans rational? Does rationality makes us a better species? Are we really a superior species? Vonnegut’s answers are hardly affirmative. As the Tralfamadorian view of the human perception implies, when we think we are making rational decisions and choices, our vision is actually extremely limited and misled. The steel case and the Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 220 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

fl atcar that confi ne and control our seeing are actually prejudices that we harbor in our mind. They can be racism, sexism, classism, or any other kind of ideology that defi ne and direct our ways of seeing. It is, in effect, a Vonnegutian version of William Blake’s famous metaphor—“the mind- forged manacles”. The result of such limited vision, on the one hand, is the blocking of a larger, more vibrant and diversifi ed world, like the mountain range, the desert, the bird and the cloud, and the “twinkling bright and clear” day that the Earthling is unable to see in the Tralfamadorian conjecture of Billy’s vision; on the other hand, it rationalizes and naturalizes the brutality to people that are different, as in the Marine major’s reasoning of “bombing North Vietnam to reason” and in Rumfoord’s justifi cation of the Dresden fi rebombing. In regards to the connotation of the zoo image, it obstructs humans from seeing animals as fellow creatures on Earth but leads them to believe that they are superior and are entitled to abuse the animals, the misconception of which eventually leads to the estrangement of humanity from its own nature and the marginalization of all other animals. As suggested by his surname, Billy Pilgrim’s extraterrestrial experience in Tralfamadore signifies a pilgrimage. Ironically, the shrine he visits is a zoo. But in the zoo Billy does acquire some gospel: the new concepts of life and time. Fatalist and quietist as they are, the new gospel helps him go through the ordeal of life. It is his effort to bring order to chaos, a helpless choice in face of an absurd, meaningless world. In this sense, the repetitive “So it goes” that he ends any mention of death signals the weight of unspeakable grief and despair. In a word, through the images of the slaughterhouse and the zoo, Vonnegut reproduces the human experience in relationship to the rest of the animal world. Substituting humans for animals in places where animals are usually put to death or kept in captivity, he highlights the helplessness of the human condition in war as well as postwar America; on the other hand, Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 221 the transposition throws light on the misery of animals in the human world, their being killed and eaten or captured and imprisoned for life-long terms, which in turn refl ects the human selfi shness and cruelty that leads to brutal treatment of humans as well. In both cases, the dividing line between the humans and nonhumans becomes blurred and the classic notion of humans as “the paragon of animals” is challenged. The tyranny of war degrades humans and animals alike, turning both into miserable sufferers. The great civilization that has been believed to mark man’s transcendence over the natural world crumples in face of the war machine, like the ancient city of Dresden. Rationality becomes the accomplice in the degradation of humanity.

“Evolution is a mistake. … Humans are a mistake.” Vonnegut says in an interview (Bringkley 2007). In Slaughterhouse-Five, we see this pessimistic idea fully expressed. However, Vonnegut is not a misanthrope. Even in the depiction of the American prisoners in the train boxcars, in spite of the dehumanizing conditions, there are still glimmering sparkles of beauty in humanity: “When food came in, the human beings were quiet and trusting and beautiful. They shared.” The beauty here is certainly not the overweening glory as the crown of the world, but the primal virtue as a species. In the episode of the two horses, there is stronger indication of hope. On a May afternoon, “two days after the end of the Second World War in Europe” (SF 193), Billy Pilgrim has his happiest moment in life, snoozing in the sun in the back of a coffi n-shaped green wagon. But his happy state is interrupted by the pitying tones of a German couple who are “crooning to the horses” (SF 196). They demand his attention to the painful state of the two horses that pull Billy’s wagon: “that the horses’ mouths were bleeding, gashed by the bits, that the horses’ hooves were broken, so that every step meant agony, that the horses were insane with thirst”. To them, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 222 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

the Americans have treated their form of transportation “as though it were no more sensitive than a six-cylinder Chevrolet” (SF 196). For the first time in his life in the war, Billy bursts into tears. “He hadn’t cried about anything else in the war” (SF 197). Mystically but understandably, the sight of the horses’ suffering evokes strong empathy in Billy Pilgrim. The life he has been through is so devastating and dehumanizing that he becomes desensitized and benumbed, as numb as a doorknob. But the suffering horses revive his humanity and make him aware of his own Nazi-like brutality in the treatment of other living beings, for all the sufferings he himself has been inflicted. In the horses he sees himself, both as a victim and a victimizer. He comes to appreciate life as an experience that is shared across the species barrier, to enter the mute life of helpless animals. In the process of this, he achieves a degree of fullness as a human being, a signifi cant transformation from his two-dimensional, clownish existence in the war. In this sense, the German couple, soft, decent, and brave obstetricians who have been delivering babies until the hospitals were burned down in the firebombing, help him with a rebirth into life. The ability to care and cry for the sufferings of others is revived. Billy is re-humanized. It is the same kind of humanness that Lot’s wife demonstrates in her impulsive looking back at the destruction of her city— the irrepressible instinct to care. It is in this humanness that we see Billy’s refusal to completely give in to fatalism. “Later on, as a middle-aged optometrist, he would weep quietly and privately sometimes, but never make loud boohooing noises” (SF 197). In light of the little nursery that serves as the epigraph of the novel, the narrator in effect implies a comparison of Billy to the Christ on basis of his quiet weeping, which indicates that Billy’s grief is over the general condition of the entire human race.

Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Chapter 4 Across the Species Boundary: Dethroning the “Paragon of Animals” 223

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! (“Spring”, Thomas Nash)

In the poem, Thomas Nash paints a lively picture of spring in which all birds, beasts, and humans enjoy the beautiful, thriving season. Vonnegut ends his novel also in spring—“And somewhere in there was springtime” (SF 215), however, the joyful scene is replaced by one of bleakness and dead silence. Instead of dancing maids, we see women and children digging rifle pits. The city of ancient beauty is turned into a lifeless moon. Nauseating smell of the dead corpses permeates the air. Like Nash, Vonnegut also ends his book with the song of birds, but in lieu of the joyous chorus of life, they ask bitter and enigmatic questions, “Poo-tee- weet?” (215) The Renaissance happy vision of a harmonious universe evaporates like a dream. Although it starts with good intentions, humanism, along with its blind faith in rationalism and the ever-quickening steps for progress, has by and by alienated humans from the animal kingdom that they naturally belong to. What comes about is disaster and self-destruction. The question that Vonnegut asks in the mouth of the bird, in this sense, might be a warning for us all: what will follow next? Chapter 5

Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom —in Pursuit of Ecological Integration

From the analysis of the proceeding chapters, we have come to an understanding that Vonnegut is ruthlessly critical of the contemporary human condition and that animals have played significant roles in bringing up this critique. Cruelty to animals, dominance over animals, and dependence on animals are pervasive in every aspect of the human experience. By giving visceral descriptions of all this, Vonnegut lays bare the inhumanity in human nature, the folly of human supremacy, the cruelty of war, the destructive potentials of science and technology, as well as the unbearable loneliness of the postmodern existence as a result of these fragmentizing and alienating forces. Nonetheless, this is still not all animals have done for Vonnegut. They are helpful in one more way—the fulfi lling of the ideal. In the famous Playboy interview, Vonnegut expresses his concept of the ideal community:

Human beings will be happier—not when they cure cancer or Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 225

get to Mars or eliminate racial prejudice or fl ush Lake Erie but when they fi nd ways to inhabit primitive communities. That’s my utopia. That’s what I want for me. (CKV 80)

When asked whether the ideal community is people who live nearby and think exactly as he does, Vonnegut gives a further explanation:

No. That isn’t primitive enough. I want to be with people who don’t think at all, so I won’t have to think, either. I’m very tired of thinking. It doesn’t seem to help very much. The human brain is too high-powered to have many practical uses in this particular universe, in my opinion. I’d like to live with alligators, think like an alligator. (CKV 81)

It is always baffl ing a task, while reading Vonnegut or listening to him, to decide whether he is serious or joking when he makes a proposition, but in this conversation we can be certain about his candidness and sincerity, about his boredom with people and the desire to live a simpler life. He has described his admiration for his sister’s dreams of living with “impossibly friendly animals in impossibly congenial isolation” and on different occasions he shows his gladness that one of her sons has succeeded in making her dream come true[1]. Therefore, even the desire “to live with alligators” instead of people means more truth than humor and irony. The ideal of living in a primitive community in the form of extended families and the repudiation of human supremacy and the reign of rationality that entails too much lying and scheming run through the oeuvre of Vonnegut. There is always an urge in his novels that the humans should return to the animal state, not in the sense of brutality and barbarity that the animal world is always associated with—which Vonnegut is quite aware to be a faulty and biased assumption humans have about the animals—but

[1] Alice’s oldest son, Jim has become a goat farmer on a mountain top in Jamaica. See Palm Sunday, p. 97. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 226 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

in the sense of innocence, simplicity, peace and harmony. In many of his works, Vonnegut expresses the belief that animals are superior to humans in various ways and people would live more happily if they can follow their way of life. In Sirens of Titan and Galapagos, the utopian visions Vonnegut describes in the Playboy interview are brought to life, although it is not a life with the alligators. With admirable ingenuity and boldness, besides a big amount of whimsicality, Vonnegut the idealist, humorist, and sentimentalist experiments with the idea about human beings returning to the animal world. The outcome he presents us with is an idyllic picture of peace, contentment, and harmony: Chrono flies freely in company of the big Titanic bluebirds, proverbially known as the symbol of happiness; humans swim and play joyfully and peacefully in the sea like happy seals, worrying nothing about war and politics and oppression, as their huge brains have dramatically reduced in size. Many critics consider such presentations of the future world as extreme examples of black humor. While there is indeed playfulness and surrealism in the portrayal of humans as furry seals, I do not think there is sarcasm, irony, or despair that pertain to black humor. As a matter of fact, the image of Chrono fl ying with his feather cape accompanied by the giant bluebirds evokes strong sense of dignity and awe. Likewise, the harmony and contentment that the “fi sher people” display in Galapagos is attractive. Besides, both The Sirens of Titan and Galapagos are the apple of Vonnegut’s eye. The former is a “natural born” that pleases the mother[1] and the latter is graded by the writer himself a score of excellence[2]. It has to be

[1] Vonnegut said in an interview, “Every mother’s favorite child is the one that’s delivered by natural childbirth. Sirens of Titan ws that kind of book” (CKV 35). [2] In Fates Worse Than Death, Vonnegut says, “The best work I ever wrote was Galapagos, in which I said that our big brain were making our lives unbearable” (FWTD 131). There is not the least indication that the remark is made as irony. See also his conversation with Nuwer in which he grades Galapagos A+ (CKV 259). His self-grading of Sirens is A (see Palm Sunday, p. 311). Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 227 the affi rmative and optimistic mood of the works that delights the author, not something dark and despairing, even though Vonnegut claims to be a pessimist. In truth, among all of the fourteen novels of Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan and Galapagos are the most heart-lifting. Unlike Cat’s Cradle, Hocus Pocus, Slapstick and Slaughterhouse-Five, which are marked by futility and absurdity, the two novels offer us affi rmative possibilities for the human existence and more direct remedies for the follies and foibles of the way humans live. As Reed notes about The Sirens of Titan, we fi nd more open laughter and light-hearted joking in the two novels, but less of the cynical, bitter, hurt chuckling that typify Player Piano and many other later novels (1972: 84). Together with this is the affi rmative possibilities offered in both novels, which is another factor that renders them appealing. Shocking and strange as the projections of the human future are, they glimmers with light and hope, as lies in the peace and harmony achieved by the characters in their relationship to the universe, both within and without, both physically and spiritually, both internally, inter-personally, and on the species level. The Sirens of Titan and Galapagos are the only two novels in which the activities of both humans and animals are set in an open, natural environment, instead of the cramped cities. The Edenic Titan and the water- laced Santa Rosalia are the paradises where human beings regain their wholeness and ecological integrity after their long self-exile. In “Excelsior! We’re going to the Moon! Excelsior!” Vonnegut talks about America’s successful landing on the moon. He is far from being excited. He cites Isaac Asimov’s theory of American science fi ction:

Isaac Asimov, who is a great man, perceives three stages so far in the development of American science fi ction, says we are in stage three now: 1. Adventure dominant. 2. Technology dominant. 3. Sociology dominant. I can hope that this is a prophetic outline of Earthling history, too. I interpret ‘sociology’ broadly—as a Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 228 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

respectful, objective concern for the cradle natures of Earthlings on Earth (WFG 77-89).

This is precisely the notion that Vonnegut tries to convey to his readers in Sirens of Titan and Galapagos: forget about the space conquest, forget about the power of our huge brain. Come back down to planet Earth, our cradle and our home. Be respectful. A route to happiness, Vonnegut seems to be suggesting, is the return to the animal world, both symbolically and physically. Only when we humans can shake off the illusory halo as the “paragon of animals”, forget about the human supremacy and mastery, and break down the species barrier between us and the rest of the natural world, only when we humans are able to acknowledge our biological selves and the weaknesses as such and realize our status as a common planetary citizen, only when we can recognize the beauty and dignity of all other beings and restore our kinship with them, can we live a healthy and fulfi lling life, a life at home with ourselves as well as with the natural world.

Ⅰ. The Sirens of Titan: Flying with the Bluebirds

Assessing the novel in comparison with its predecessor, Player Piano (1952), Peter J. Reed observes,

Rather surprising […] is the fact that this novel with its science fi ction orientation, with its robots and near-robot humans, and with its several central characters who are intentionally presented as being rather cold-hearted, generates more human warmth than Player Piano which is directly concerned with the agonies of exploring and following conscience, emotion and love. (1972: 65-66)

Reed offers three possible explanations: that Vonnegut has improved Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 229 his skill in the intervening seven years, that the science fi ction mode offers him more detachment and he is less didactic in this work, and that “the positive forces, particularly love, carry more weight” (1972: 66). I agree with him largely but think the third point deserves more attention than he has allocated. By “love”, Reed means mainly the love of and between the human characters, but I think its connotation is extended from the human sphere to that of the animal world and Vonnegut makes it quite explicit that the accomplishment of spiritual contentment lies in the restoration of the harmony between humans and nature (including both physical nature and human nature), and between humans and other species. This affi rmation of the moral extension greatly adds to the book’s appeal. There are two characters in the novel that choose to spend their lives with animals: Boaz and Chrono. As is explained in Chapter Three, both characters have had unhappy childhood due to the lack of fulfi lling, supportive family life. Living on a planet that is lifeless and loveless, Boaz becomes mean and cruel, taking advantage of his power as a secret commander to inflict pain on his fellow soldiers just for fun. Chrono is not evil in character, but he is unaccountably aggressive and dangerous, brooding anger for all around him, even including his own mother. However, both characters undergo amazing transformation in their experience with animals, turning from cold, troubled freaks into loving, sympathetic humans. A. Boaz

Boaz’s transformation begins on the space ship on their way to Mercury. “Lonely and mystifi ed” out there in space, he has an existential crisis as to the meaning of life and decides that “he needed a buddy far more than he needed a means of making people do exactly what he wanted them to” (ST 176, 182). Even if Unk had not destroyed his control box secretly, Boaz would not have had need of it. The important things in life, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 230 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

he discovers, are “not to be lonely, not to be scared” (ST 182). But being obsessed with the dream to reunite with his family and friend, Unk neither notices nor offers assistance to Boaz’s transformation. It is the harmoniums who fulfi lled the job, creatures in the caves of Mercury. Stranded on the alien planet and entombed in its dark, deep, labyrinthine caves—part of Rumfoord’s grand scheme—Boaz and Unk take up different roads. Unk is restless and explorative. He roams the caverns, furiously bent on finding the way out. He is “at war with his environment”, regarding his environment “as being either malevolent or cruelly mismanaged”, and he wants “to fi ght it with the only weapons at hand—passive resistance and open displays of contempt”. As a result, he suffers physically: “Poor Unk lost a lot of weight, and a lot of hair, too. He was aging fast. His eyes felt hot and his skeleton felt rickety” (ST 200). Besides, he never shaves, allowing his hair and beard to grow into bushes. In a literal sense, he turns himself into a savage. In sharp contrast, Boaz prospers. He shaves every day and gives himself a haircut twice an Earthling week with a barber kit from the space ship. “Boaz, twelve years younger than Unk, had never felt better in his life. He had gained weight in the caves of Mercury—and serenity, too” (ST 200). What accounts for the change in Boaz and the difference between him and Unk is the love he develops for the only creature in the caves—the harmoniums. Vonnegut’s description of this fi ctional creature is poetic and touching:

The creatures of the caves are translucent. When they cling to the walls, light from the phosphorescent wall comes right through them. The yellow light from the walls, however, is turned, when passed through the bodies of the creatures, to a vivid aquamarine. Nature is a wonderful thing. The creatures in the caves look very much like small and spineless kites. They are diamond-shaped, a foot high and eight Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 231

inches wide when fully mature. They have no more thickness than the skin of a toy balloon. (ST 185)

Clinging to the cavern walls and fed on the mechanical energy passed through sound vibrations, these creatures are simple, gentle, and excruciatingly beautiful. “Though blind and indifferent to anyone’s watching, they often arrange themselves so as to present a regular and dazzling pattern of jonquil-yellow and vivid aquamarine diamonds. The yellow comes from the bare cave walls. The aquamarine is the light of the walls fi ltered through the bodies of the creatures” (ST 187). In effect, the narrator tells us, the name “harmonium” is derived precisely for their “love of music” and “willingness to deploy themselves in the service of beauty” (ST 187). It is for such creatures that Boaz develops strong attachment. When he discovers how much they love good music, he starts to play for them tape-recorded music that are loaded on the spaceship as part of Rumfoord’s war provisions, taking great pains to fi gure out a proper way to stage the concert so as not to kill the vulnerable harmoniums when the vibration is too strong for them. With the few harmoniums that he especially likes, he feeds them on his own heartbeat and the vibrations of his pulse. He talks to them in the small talk parents have with their babies and imagine them to talk back. The messages the harmoniums spell out on the wall, “BOAZ, DON’T GO!”, and “WE LOVE YOU, BOAZ” renders him so emotionally charged that Unk’s news about his discovery of the way to free them from Mercury fail to excite him, for he is not willing to go. There might seem a certain degree of morbidity and an overload of sentimentality in Boaz’s transformation, as some critics tend to think, but Boaz has not lost his mind to assert the love between him and the harmoniums. He has a philosophy of his own, one obtained from experience. “I don’t know what’s going on […] All I know is we’re being Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 232 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

tested somehow, by somebody or some thing [sic] a whole lot smarter than us, and all I can do is be friendly and keep calm and try and have a nice time till it’s over” (ST 202). This attitude is almost exactly the same as the lesson Constant learns by the end of his life, that “a purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved” (ST 313). However, it takes much longer time for Constant to realize it. In the caves of Mercury, Unk-Constant regards what Boaz is doing as “dumb or crazy” and is always under the urge to “truth” him about the harmoniums, that it is senseless to believe the “brainless membranes” to know anything about love, that they are only a trap to keep him on Mercury (the omnipresent Rumfoord uses the harmoniums to spell out messages so that Unk would return to Earth alone). Boaz, knowing well that Unk hates the harmoniums and derides his obsession with them as well as the possibility that somebody might be behind all this, pleads Unk not to disclose the cruel truth:

“I’d appreciate it, Unk,” said Boaz tautly, “if you’d just let me think whatever I’m going to think about that message about how they love me. I mean—” he said, “you know—” he said, “it don’t necessarily have to make sense to you. I mean—” he said, “you know—” he said, “there ain’t really any call for you to say anything about it, one way or the other. I mean,” he said, “you know—” he said, “these animals ain’t necessarily your dish. You don’t necessarily have to like ’em, or understand ’em, or say anything about ’em. I mean—” said Boaz, “you know—” said Boaz, “the message wasn’t addressed to you. It’s me they said they loved. That lets you out.” (ST 210)

Apparently, Boaz is overwhelmed with emotion and excitement that he loses his tongue. But he does succeed in making an impressive declaration of his determination to believe in the harmoniums. Growing up as an orphan and kidnapped to Mars at the age of fourteen, Boaz has Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 233 never experienced love. Now that he fi nds it in the harmoniums, he clings to it and will not let it go at any price. Meanwhile, in the stammering and the struggle for expression, he also succeeds in putting under control his own urge to disclose the truth he has for Unk: Unk’s strangling Stony Stevenson, his best and only friend on Mars, in a moment of amnesia under the control of Martian commanders. The belief that Stevenson is still alive waiting for the reunion with him is the dream that keeps Unk going. Telling him the truth will be like “clubbing Unk between the eyes” (ST 202). On Mars Boaz would never let go of such good chance of pleasing himself in watching the intense pain he can produce in others, but after the two-and- a-half year experience with the harmoniums, the former sadist tormentor has changed into a much more sympathetic and humane character. He understands that people need dreams to live on, no matter how silly or false they are. So he invents the plea with Unk, “Don’t truth me, and I won’t truth you” (ST 202). Even though, as it turns out, Unk breaks the plea, Boaz withholds the impulse to do likewise for revenge. The love for the animals has its effect: the emotional wasteland that Boaz used to live in is nurtured into a verdant garden fi lled with mellowness and warmth. Peter Reed calls Boaz “a classic example of ‘making the best of things’” to adapt to a meaningless universe (1972: 76), but he considers Boaz’s choice to stay with the harmoniums as an act of regression (the Mercury caves does resemble the womb) and his adjustment one of mere submission (1972: 77). I see it otherwise. The decision to stay reveals, instead of submission and emotional perversion, Boaz’s growth into a full, responsible, and compassionate human being. Boaz has learnt to take full charge of his own life. In a moment of rapture when he argues with Unk about the value of the harmoniums’ love, Boaz forgets about the tape recorder and leaves it unattended. When he realizes it, it is already too late. Thousands of harmoniums are killed by moving too close to the tape recorder. Boaz is weeping when he comes back. “See what happens Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 234 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

when somebody just runs off and forgets?” He rages heartbrokenly against himself (ST 212). It is then that he tells Unk his decision to stay to take care of the harmoniums instead of leaving with Unk back to Earth. He has a more rational reasoning this time and is apparently more confi dent and eloquent:

“And then I said to myself,” said Boaz, “I ain’t never been nothing good to people, and people never been nothing good to me. So what I want to be free in crowds of people for? […] I found me a place where I can do good without doing any harm, and I can see I’ m doing good, and them I’m doing good for know I’m doing it, and they love me, Unk, as best they can. I found me a home. “And when I die down here some day,” said Boaz, “I’m going to be able to say to myself, ‘Boaz—you made millions of lives worth living. Ain’t nobody ever spread more joy. You ain’t got an enemy in the Universe.” (ST 213-14)

This is clearly not a speech made by a helpless and pathetic victim of the fortune’s wheels. On the contrary, it is full of dignity and the spirit of altruism, something Rumfoord claims to possess but only as disguise for his selfi sh ends. There might be a similar kind of assertion and self-delusion in Boaz’s belief of doing good to others, but by comparison to Rumfoord’s callous manipulation of people’s lives in the name of great causes, Boaz is much nobler. If he does hurt anyone, it is himself. As a matter of fact, in Boaz’s rejection to “return to the madding crowd” we see the shadow of Vonnegut who would rather live with alligators than with people. Boaz, of course, has more reason than Vonnegut to make this choice, considering the life he has lived as an orphan, pushed and pulled by people around him this way or that. In contrast to the treatment from people, he obtains uncritical love from the harmoniums and complete dependence and trust, which, in return, renders his life meaningful and worth living. Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 235

There is no indication of ridicule or pity, therefore, in the tone of the narrator when he says, “Boaz became for himself the affectionate Mama and Papa he’d never had,” who imagine himself dying on the deathbed and calling himself “a good boy” (ST 214). By portraying Boaz talking to himself at his imagined deathbed, the narrator concludes the episode of Mercury with a note of melancholy as well as laudatory evaluation. It is certain that Boaz will die alone in this alien planet, but he will die contented, believing himself dedicated to the good of the harmoniums. As in the case of Constant’s discovery about the meaning of life, Boaz lives out also the principle that Beatrice discovers much later on Titan: the worst that could possibly happen to anybody would be not to be used for anything by anybody (ST 310). As a matter of fact, Boaz’s experiences add modifi cation to it. He has been used by people all his life, but unconsciously and purposelessly; it is the life with the harmoniums that enables him to make a voluntary and conscious decision as to whether and how to be used[1]. The narrator gives full descriptions of Unk’s amazement at Boaz’s dignifi ed change both physically and spiritually: “Living apart from Boaz, Unk had fl attered himself into thinking he was a physical match for Boaz. He saw now what a pathetic delusion this had been” (ST 210). When Boaz returns with the dead bodies of the killed harmoniums, heartbroken, he is to Unk “a wise, decent, weeping, brown Hercules”. Indeed, Unk is so dwarfed emotionally and spiritually that he feels himself “scrawny, rootless, and sore-headed” (ST 212). When Unk wants to protest Boaz’s decision not to go with him, “Boaz held up his big right hand, and it was a tender gesture

[1] The far-sightedness of Boaz in terms of his understanding of the meaning of life and the human- animal relationship will not sound too far-fetched if we consider the possible allusion of this char- acter to Franz Boaz (1858—1942), the German-born American anthropologist, the fi rst professor of anthropology at Columbia University, holding that position for 37 years, and the founder of American cultural anthropology as well as its most influential thinker. It is almost certain that Vonnegut had encountered his works during his time as an anthropologist student. The character of Boaz could be Vonnegut’s tribute paid to this great man. Peter Freese’s brief talk on the point confi rms my supposition. See The Clown of Armageddon, p. 117. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 236 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

for silence, a gesture made by a thoroughly great human being” (ST 212). All of this is unequivocal expression of admiration. Therefore, Boaz is Vonnegut’s example of positive values instead of a butt of ridicule. His love for the fragile, vulnerable, harmless animals ranks him among the Greek heroes. That critics fail to see this or are reluctant to acknowledge it as signifi cant is a revealing fact about the blind spot in the mainstream literary studies in regard with the animal part[1]. B. Chrono

If the dark, poisonous, and phosphorescent atmosphere in the Mercury caves gives off a sense of morbidity that undercuts the heroic transformation of Boaz, the open, bright, and balmy environment on Titan sets off that of Chrono much more positively. Vonnegut’s description of Titan is alluring: it is rich in oxygen and the atmosphere is redolent, “like the atmosphere outside the back door of an Earthling bakery on a spring morning”[2] (ST 265). The climate is also spring-like, with a “uniform air temperature of sixty-seven degrees Fahrenheit” (ST 265). Moreover, the place is graced with a variety of natural wonders, including lovely rivers, lakes, and streams (all of which Rumfoord egotistically named after himself and his dog) and a view of “the most appallingly beautiful things in the Solar System, the rings of Saturn” (ST 266). In short, Titan is a place of natural beauty and harmony. It suggests of primitive union with nature and simple pastoral dignity. According to Mustazza, the description “is meant to summon up visions of an Edenic locus and way of life” (1990: 55).

[1] See, for example, Allan’s comment on the episode in Understanding Kurt Vonnegut. Allan is on the whole unappreciative of the novel. The episode involving Unk’s and Boaz’s encounters with sound-absorbing creatures on Mercury, in particular, seems to him “gratuitous exercises in fantasy rather than thematically integrated elements of a larger design” (Understanding KV 39). [2] In Fates Worse Than Death, Vonnegut remarks that his favorite smell is “what comes out of the back door of a bakery” (FWTD 15). Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 237

On this pleasant planet, all three of the family, Constant, Beatrice, and Chrono, eventually learn to come to terms with life. Although Rumfoord discloses to them the disheartening truth that the history of Earth has been determined largely by beings of Tralfamadore, who simply want to help one of their space travellers, Salo, to repair his spaceship, they choose to fi nd meaning of their own, but from within, not without. Beatrice resumes her hobby as an artist, writing a history called The True Purpose of Life in the Solar System, in refutation to Rumfoord’s notion that “the purpose of human life in the Solar System was to get a grounded messenger from Tralfamadore on his way again” (ST 308). By the end of her life, although she has become a “springy, one-eyed, gold-toothed, brown old lady” of seventy-four, her beauty shines all the more charmingly. “To anyone with a sense of poetry, mortality, and wonder, Malachi Constant’s proud, high- cheekboned mate was as handsome as a human being could be” (ST 307). Beautiful and noble as is the “immaculate girl in white” that Beatrice used to be, she is too aloof to possess human warmth. On Titan, even though she has lost her war against the forces that are meant to contaminate her purity, Beatrice enjoys a higher sense of nobility and strength and become fully human. The discovery that the meaning of life lies in being of use to someone liberates and satisfi es her. She dies in peace, after expressing her sincere gratitude to Constant for his willingness to “use” her, looking up at the appallingly beautiful rings of Saturn (ST 311). Constant is no longer the playboy lost in material comforts and sexual indulgence as well. Nor is he the bitter, angered man desperate in his fi ght against a merciless universe as on Mars. The Sirens of Titan, three extremely beautiful women with whose pictures Rumfoord allures Constant for the life on Titan and which indeed are statues Salo sculpts to kill his time, has long lost any charm or infl uence to him. Moving around naked most of the time, Constant has become a happy, loving family man, a self-suffi cient man who “raised or gathered or made everything he Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 238 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

needed” and this “suites him enormously” (ST 307). In his relation with Beatrice, he plays somewhat the feminine role—every time he visits her, he would bring her native foods and homemade delicacies as well as “his broom and shovel” to clean up the mess Beatrice has accumulated writing in her palace. He is perfectly contented with his role as a “woodsman”, “husbandman”, and “a provider” (ST 307). The winning of Beatrice’s love, although it happens quite late in his life, means a great deal to him. It mellows him and brings meaning to his life. “A purpose of human life,” he confesses to Salo after Beatrice’s death, “no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved” (ST 313). While his parents eventually find peace and love with themselves, Chrono fi nds it with the bluebirds.

At the age of 17, young Chrono had run away from his palatial home to join the Titanic bluebirds, the most admirable creatures on Titan. Chrono now lived among their bests by the Kazak pools. He wore their feathers and sat on their eggs and shared their food and spoke their language. (ST 304)

There is no explanation in the book as to what prompts Chrono to make such a decision of life, but there is an explicit commendation for the choice. Beatrice says to herself, in spite of the great depression of losing her only child, “At least […] he isn’t a mama’s boy. And at least he had the greatness of soul to join the noblest, most beautiful creatures in sight” (ST 306). Constant takes to tidying up the shrines the son makes with rocks and sticks and the bluebird feather as his holy duty, fully respectful of “what his son was trying to do with religion” (ST 305). Both Beatrice and Constant think at the beginning of their life on Titan that they should send their son back to Earth, to “live that life with busy and jolly contemporaries on Earth” (ST 304), but after Chrono joins the bluebirds, they agree that “it would have been cruel in the extreme to send him anywhere else” now Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 239 that he has made “such a thorough and specialized adjustment on Titan” (ST 304). Even Salo the robot sees the appeal of Chrono’s act. “‘Good for him,’” he said, “‘I’d join them, if they’d have me” (ST 314). From a dishearteningly aggressive, cynical, and unfeeling boy, Chrono has grown into a young man capable of appreciating the gift of life, by aligning himself with the most beautiful creatures available. As Reed points out, “In the circumstances he makes perhaps the best choice available” (1972: 83). In the choice to spend his life with animals instead of people, Chrono resembles Boaz. In both cases, there is a conscious selection between the human society and the animal world. Boaz’s experiences with people tell him that he can never live a life of his own, nor can he enjoy love or respect; similarly, Chrono’s experience on Mars, short as it is, is appalling enough for him to doubt any illusion of happiness or freedom in the human society. After he has gone with the bluebirds, he continues to pay surprise visits to his mother, trying to behave in accordance with the human civilization, but at the end of such a day, all efforts of conformity invariably end in exasperation: “Chorno would rage at the clothes and his mother and civilization. He would tear off the clothes, scream like a bluebird, and dive into the Winston Sea” (ST 306). It seems that he does want to please his mother, but the trammels of human civilization are simply more than he can endure for a full day. Therefore, like that of Boaz, Chrono’s decision to join the bluebirds is not out of whimsy or impish impulse, but of deliberate consideration. On the other hand, Chrono’s choice differs signifi cantly from that of Boaz. Boaz decides to stay with the harmoniums primarily on basis of the assumption that the creatures depend on him and he could be of value to them, thus there is lingering implication of superiority on the part of Boaz. He occasionally flatters himself as “God Almighty” to the harmoniums and imagine them calling him “King Boaz” to plead his favor (ST 201, 204). Therefore, the relationship between Boaz and the harmoniums is Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 240 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

not one of equal footing, although Boaz means no harm by his power. In the case of Chrono, everything speaks of spontaneity and wholesomeness. Chrono joins the birds, speaks their language, eats their food, and fl ies in their company, on his own feather cloak instead of on the back of a leading bird, as often is the case in many fairy tales. In brief, what Chrono tries to do is to become one of them, by following their way of life, instead of humanizing the birds and bringing them closer to his life. The age-old and deep-rooted human supremacy in dealing with other species is entirely abolished in Chrono’s case. Especially revealing is the abandoning of the human language. As early as his life on Mars, young Chrono has intuitively discovered that “everything anybody says is baloney” (ST 145). So he trusts no one, not even his mother and Unk, who tells him to be his father. So it is not surprising that on Titan, he eventually determines not to use the human language any more. Unlike Boaz who talks to the harmoniums in human words, Chrono adopts the language of the bluebirds. Sometimes late at night, the narrator tells us, Constant would hear Chrono’s cries. The cries are “for nothing and nobody on Titan. They were for Phoebe, a passing moon” (ST 304). The quality of primitivism and mysticism is troublingly beautiful. The description is made about the time when Chrono is forty- two. In the twenty-fi ve years he spends with the bluebirds, he has completed his reunion with nature and become part of its elements. As Constant admits, “It was all so sad. But it was all so beautiful, too” (ST 305). Typographically, while Boaz lives in the deep cave, Chrono fl ies with the beautiful birds in the sky. The former is enclosing, downward, while the latter embracing, outreaching, and uplifting. Clearly, Chrono’s joining the bluebirds, which in traditional belief are symbols of happiness, is more liberating and suggests more hope and possibilities. The scene of Chrono’s farewell to his parents is poignantly moving and mythically evocative. At the death of Beatrice, “the sky was fi lled with Titanic bluebirds”. There are so many of the great and noble birds that they Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 241

“made night of day, made the air quake with their beating wings” (ST 312).

And in that night in the midst of day, Chrono, the son of Beatirce and Malachi, appeared on a knoll over-looking the new grave. He wore a feather cape which he fl apped like wings. He was gorgeous and strong. “Thank you, Mother and Father,” he shouted, “for the gift of life. Good-bye!” He was gone, and the birds went with him. (ST 312)

It is amazing and reassuring that, in spite of his appalling childhood and his anti-humanistic choice of life, Chrono is still able to be grateful and appreciate the gift of life. This is signifi cant in that, although Vonnegut expresses his ideas of anti-humanism in the portrayal of Chrono, he does not mean to negate humanity wholesale. Chrono’s love for his parents, his gratefulness and appreciation for their bringing him to the world, announces Vonnegut’s faith in the core of huminity: love and the value of life. By fi guring Chrono fl ying with the bluebirds to bid his farewell, on the other hand, Vonnegut elucidates the truth that humans and animals share these together. Thus, among the fi ve characters of Sirens of Titan, two of them choose to stay with the animals. Although one is more preferred to the other, both are portrayed in positive light. The message is definite: humans can live a happier life if they restore their kinship with other species. Moreover, throughout the novel, with the help of the science fiction tropes, the characters are made to travel from one planet to another. This in effect literalizes an important notion in the Vonnegut’s belief system—planetary citizenship. It is made explicit by creating this grand cosmic context for the human activities that human beings, or in Vonnegut’s choice of words, Earthlings, are nothing but one species on one of the millions of planets in the vast universe. There is nothing to be self-conceited about. The belief Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 242 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

that “somebody up there likes me” is but a self-deluding lie. Salo’s much more sophisticated spaceship offers a good case in point to deflate any pomposity. Therefore, in Sirens of Titan, there is both the merciless disclosure of the truth about the human mediocrity in the universe and the heartening prospect that humans can maintain dignity and enjoy fulfillment, only if they can forget about the “baloney” about the human supremacy and God- like mastery and restore their kinship with other species. The choice is on us. As Beatrice has insightfully concluded, although there is little denying that we live under the control of some superior forces, we can serve their interests in “highly personalized” ways (ST 309).

Ⅱ. Galapagos: Farewell, Big Brain

Galapagos signifies important progress of Vonnegut’s ecological humanist ideas in that it creates a world in which the ideals of the immersion of human beings in nature and their reconciliation with other animals are realized. If Slaughterhouse-Five succeeds in breaking down the species barrier, The Sirens of Titan and Galapagos move one step further in bringing the animals and humans closer, by means of transformation; if the transformation in The Sirens of Titan is in nature metaphysical, realized mainly through a choice of life on the individual level, in Galapagos it is defi nitely more physical, thorough, and on a wider scale. In the future world projected in the novel, the entire human race is transformed, by means of evolution, an irresistible and irreversible process. Morphologically as well as physiologically, human beings are virtually unrecognizable. They are no longer the upright primates that can talk and think and use different tools with their hands or create various ideas or contrivances with their brain. They become, instead, amphibious creatures covered with fur, their arms turning into flippers in which “the hand bones are almost entirely Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 243 imprisoned and immobilized”, and their mouths becoming beaks to catch fi sh with. More signifi cantly, their brains are much reduced in size so that their skulls become more streamlined and good for swimming (G 185). Critics respond to such a projection of the future humans in a vast range of opinions, from disgruntled rejection to enthusiastic embracing. R. Z. Sheppard fl atly dismisses it as “a cute idea but a literary dead end” (90). Neil Berry maintains that “Vonnegut ranks low as a philosopher” and declares that Galapagos is just “a protracted piece of whimsy, laborious and unrewarding” (58). Most of Vonnegut’s supporters applaud the book warmly, recognizing its quality that marks Vonnegut’s affinity to Mark Twain[1] and ranking it among his best, side to side with Slaughterhouse- Five, but they, too, disagree signifi cantly on the understanding of the book’s central concept of the human retrograde evolution. Some acclaim it as a clever and plausible solution to the human errors, while others doubt its ethical appropriateness; some think the solution points to an Edenic future for humanity, while others feel it “somber”, “chilling” and pessimistic (Allan 1991: 152)[2]. Todd F. Davis thus sums up the quandary readers face, “[A]t novel’s end we are left wondering which world is better: a world of the most base biological functions that poses no threat to life or a world of free will driven by an intellectual capacity that threatens humanity’s very existence” (117). For him, the future world presented in Galapagos is far from inspirational. Although there is no more potential for destructiveness

[1] Reed refers to Vonnegut’s wacky wit and irreverent imagination in the book as “Twain-like satire of human foible” in his review “God Bless You, Mr. Darwin” (Reed 1990: 63). Lorrie Moore explicitly calls Vonnegut “a postmodern Mark Twain”, describing his characteristics as “grumpy and sentimental, antic and religious” (“How Humans Got Flippers and Beaks”, in The Critical Response to Kurt Vonnegut, ed. Leonard Mastazza, 1994, p. 271). [2] See for optimistic readings in Leonard Mastazza’s “A Darwinian Eden: Science and Myth in Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos”, in The Critical Response to Kurt Vonnegut, (p.279-289), Rob- ert T. Tally, Jr.’s “Apocalypse in the Optative Mood: Galapagos, or Starting Over”, in New Critical Essays on Kurt Vonnegut, ed. David Simmons, 2009, p. 113-133; for more pessimis- tic readings in Allan’s Understanding Kurt Vonnegut, pp. 149-158, Davis’s Kurt Vonnegut’s Crusade, pp. 112-118, and Freese’s The Clown of Armageddon, pp.582-601. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 244 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

in the furry, seal-like creatures, he notes, they are also devoid of creativity. “Nobody, surely, is going to write Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony”, he quotes from the book (G 259). Such a life offers nothing but boredom, and he believes even Vonnegut agrees. Thus, he argues that in solving the problem of moral error Vonnegut “also destroys what makes us human” and concludes that “Galapagos really solves nothing”. To modify his criticism, Davis reiterates his conviction in Vonnegut’s devotion to humanity as a “postmodern humanist”, that “at all times and often against his bitter judgment, Vonnegut remains an advocate of humankind” (116, 117). The perplexity Davis encounters is indeed commonly shared. Freese thinks the book typifi es Vonnegut’s inimitable mixture of cynical pessimism, black humor, and bourgeois sentimentality, concluding that “the novel’s action offers no reason for humanistic optimism” (2009: 600). In the 1987 interview, William R. Allan expressed his uneasiness with a question:

WRA: […] Is it a stance, or can you really imagine the loss of the complexity of human thought? To me, that would be a tragedy.” KV: I don’t see why. WRA: Clearly, we wouldn’t know it, wouldn’t recognize its happening, but there’s something in me that rebels against that idea. KV: Well, having seen where we’re headed, I don’t want to go that way anymore. (CKV 292)

As we can see in the interview, Vonnegut’s answers to the questions are firm and direct: the world of seal-like people is not meant to be a tragedy but a remedy to the mistakes humans have made. Earlier in the interview, he tells Allan that he does not think the change humans undergo in the novel should be termed as “de-evolution”, Allan’s choice of word.

I consider it evolution. It’s simply change. […] Perfectly intelligent change in the right direction. Equire said there are no record of de-evolution—I’ve never even spoken the word. People Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 245

so insist on progress because they really want to believe that we’re headed somewhere. (CKV 291-2).

From the conversation we can see the advantage Vonnegut demonstrates as an ecologically-conscious humanist writer, in comparison with the critics. The repulsion that Davis, Allan, and Freese feel at the idea that humans would “devolve” into a seal-like creature is largely owing to the deep-rooted assumption that humans are superior animals and entitled to enjoy the privileges of reason, speech, and creativity. They find it hard to accept it as truly possible that we would “degrade” into the same level as the other, “lower” animals, become a link of nature’s food chain, and subsist on base, animalistic instincts. If the prospect is inevitable, it surely is humanity’s tragedy. Davis’ protests that Vonnegut destroys “what makes us human” and that the primal mythic innocence Vonnegut portrays represents a state that appears “inhuman” (116) in many aspects reveal in effect the anthropocentric bias common among mainstream critics. In this sense, even though Davis has noticed that Vonnegut’s humanism differs from the classic humanism, his label “postmodern humanism” fails to capture the unique properties Vonnegut’s humanism contains, since it is still, according to the way Davis understands it, a limited, exclusive vision focused on the interests of humanity only. Vonnegut proves to possess a much broader mind and more embracing compassion. As a humanist with a strong sense of ecological commitment and one who “always had a warm heart for animals” (Reed 1990: 63), Vonnegut never bears any contempt or prejudice against other animals. On the contrary, as is shown in the proceeding chapters, the animal world is always portrayed as one of higher order than that of the human world. First of all, he sees nothing wrong or disgraceful to live like a seal. In another interview, he describes in full glee the charm he enviously noted in the life of the smart and good-humored animals:

Well, if you saw the seal and sea lions on the Galapagos Islands, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 246 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

that’s the life you would want. Gee, it’s an incredible, amusing life they have. They play practical jokes on the other animals; they don’t have that much to do. I mean, they’re quite smart, and they’ve got a lot of time on their hands. Sharks are what they have to look out for— and killer whales. A lot of them have scars because they’ve been hit by big fi sh. There are these big iguanas, who with great labor, will swim out from shore, eat seaweed on the bottom and bob up to the top to swim back to the islands. Well, the seals will come and catch them by the tail and drag them back. (Laughter) They let them go almost on shore and drag them out to sea. And if you go swimming there, they will come underneath you, look up at you and swim all around you. (CKV 258)

There is all heart-felt delight and adoration in the description, without a single hint of mean mocking or belittling. The joyful and idyllic picture in effect echoes Vonnegut’s proclaimed preference to live with alligators instead of people, which entails no necessity to talk or think. According to the description, the life of the seals is not at all boring but full of mirth and fun. The seals are not dull animals either, but very smart and playful, so there is no worry that “nobody is going to write Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony”. Other forms of creativity and entertainment will emerge, but never the kind to invent the atomic bomb, never to “tell a lie, or start a Third World War” (G 259). Similar descriptions are scattered in the novel, creating a total effect of peace, innocence, simplicity, joy, and contentment. Moreover, there is a special emphasis on the future humans’ advantage over those of olden times: easier ways to catch fi sh for food (G 34), more acute underwater sense of smell (G 79), shorter dependent childhood (of nine months) (G 122), and easier, routinely but as intense sexual relationship (G 226). Most important of all, nobody will be lying (G 99), and they will never use a weapon or wage a war (G 146-50), or practice slavery (G 176). On the whole, therefore, becoming seal-like, or becoming animal Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 247 in general, is not presented as a dark, bleak prospect to be dreaded of. Instead, it is where salvation lies. Furthermore, Vonnegut is not simply wielding his science fiction imagination when confi guring such a picture of the human future. He has the solid basis of hard science. As is well circulated, before writing the book, Vonnegut read extensively on biology and evolutionary science and actually made a field trip visit to the Galapagos Islands in 1982, for the same duration of two weeks as Charles Darwin’s visit in 1835 (Freese 2009: 563). Allan makes an important observation that in Galapagos Vonnegut uses hard science that has nothing to do with science fiction writing (1991: 149). Vonnegut is deadly concerned about the authenticity of the book’s scientifi c speculation, which explains his great delight at the letter from Stephen Jay Gould, a renowned Harvard zoologist. “He thought it was a wonderful roman a clef about evolutionary theory and also proves how random the selection is. He said that the fur-covered baby was a good mutation, that it was a common one. So it’s reputable scientifi cally; I worried as much about that one as anything” (CKV 252). Gould also publicly confirmed Vonnegut’s self-assessment of Galapagos’ scientific reputability, assigning the book to his students in science courses “as a guide to understand the meaning of contingency” (qtd. in Freese 2009: 581-2). Incidentally, a scientific discovery in 2011 from the University of Cambridge indicates that the human brain would shrink in size in the future because the human brain has reached its natural limits for further development and the human body can hardly supply the huge amount of energy it demands for the intricate thinking process[1]. With much

[1] See the website news, “人脑发展到头，未来或变蠢” < http://epaper.xkb.com.cn/view. php?id=713919>. There is, in fact, quite some discussion about the shrinking of the human brain. Many scientists and anthropologists believe that the process has been on for quite some time. See, for example, “Our Brains Are Shrinking: Are We Getting Dumber” , and “Are we be- coming more stupid? Human brain has been shrinking for the last 20,000 years”, . Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 248 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

probability, what Vonnegut projects as science fi ction may one day come true. Therefore, the future image of the furry, seal-like, small-brained humans cannot be taken lightly only as a humorous rhetoric or an exhibit of whimsical mischief, not even simply as black humor, which denies its literal/scientific significance. Indeed, there are in the image serious messages in both the metaphorical order and the realistic domain. Metaphorically, by portraying the future humankind as small- brained creatures, Vonnegut openly expresses his hitherto guarded anti- intellectualism and brings his critique of humanity to consummation. There is little secret in this. Leo Trout, the ghostly narrator who has been watching the human activities for a million years, makes it the center of our concern at the outset of the story:

It was hard to believe nowadays that people could ever have been as brilliantly duplicitous as James Wait–until I remind myself that just about every adult human being back then had a brain weighing about three kilograms! There was no end to the evil schemes that a thought machine that oversized couldn’t imagine and execute. So I raise this question, although there is nobody around to answer it: Can it be doubted that three-kilogram brains were once nearly fatal defects in the evolution of the human race? A second query: What source was there back then, save for our overelaborate nervous circuitry, for the we were seeing or hearing about simply everywhere? My answer: There was no other source. This was a very innocent planet, except for those great big brains. (G 8-9)

In light of this introduction, the novel, particularly Book One “The Thing Was”, can be taken as a book of judgment of all the evils conducted Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 249 by “the oversize human brain”, which the narrator declares as “the only real villain in my story” (G 270). He wastes no opportunity to indict this monstrous villain for all the troubles humanity faces: the irresistible urge to commit suicide in Mary Hepburn, the newly widowed school teacher; the turning from the best citizen in Guayaquil into a “ravening terrorist” of Jesus Ortiz, the hotel employee formerly full of hopeful ideas of success but becomes hideously revengeful after being insulted by the disdainful millionaire MacIntosh (G 89); the hurtful quarrel resulting from the fluctuation between hate and love between Zenji, a Japanese computer whiz, and Hisako, his pregnant wife; and the narrator’s own joining in the US marines and then going to fi ght in Vietnam, which causes so much heartache and guilt in him that even a million years later as an disembodied ghost, the narrator still feels like “apologizing for the human race” (G 82). To crown it all, of course, is the unscrupulous cheating James Wait has conducted on the seventeen widows he marries for money. On the macrocosmic level, the oversize brain is blamed to be responsible for the ongoing fi nancial crisis—as it is due to the change of people’s opinions of paper wealth (G 24), for the bloody wars—of which the narrator misses almost none in the human history, from the Roman invasion led by Julius Caesar (G 16) to World War II and the Vietnam War, for the environmental pollution and the extinction of species, for all acts of greed, egotism, bigotry, cruelty, and the exploitation and oppression of the many by the few. The harm brought about by this destructive organ is so tremendous that “a visitor from another planet might have assumed that the environment had gone haywire, and that the people were in such a frenzy because Nature was about to kill them all” (G 25). It is not surprising then, at the end of the “human” part of the story, Captain Adolf von Kleist throws Mandarax, the latest innovation of computers, into the deep, blue sea. It is immediately swallowed by a great white shark, who swallows Mary as well when she tries to retrieve the computer (G 288-89). Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 250 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

The plot is highly symbolic. Mandarax, capable of performing numerous functions including simultaneous voice translation of most languages on Earth and citing thousands of famous quotations from world literature, is literally an electronic extension of the human brain. It obviously constitutes a symbol of knowledge and of the great intellectual power of the humankind. By having it thrown away and destroyed, Vonnegut bids his farewell to the era of the big brain, thus making a declaration of the abdication of rationalism. The critical energy that has been building up since Player Piano finally finds its consummate expression. Symbolically, Captain Adolf von Kleist is the new Adam on the Edenic island of Santa Rosalia. It is with his sperm that Mary has successfully operated artificial insemination with the Kanka-bono girls, thus makes it possible for the human race to multiply and thrive on the island, although this is done without either the Captain’s consent or his knowledge. Therefore, as the narrator notes quite early in the book, the Captain’s throwing away Mandarax is like Adam’s casting “the Apple of Knowledge” (G 62), which has led to the downfall of the entire human race. The Captain’s disposal of the machine is thus a gesture that marks the “the last step in the book’s reverse mythic plot”, the return to the state of “innocence through ignorance” (Mustazza 1990: 176). Allegorically, the Original Sin is undone, and a homecoming journey back to Eden becomes possible. Also in this sense, Mary’s being eaten by the shark together with the computer is symbolic. As the only person on the island who has a large command of scientifi c knowledge and who cannot resist the temptation of tinkering with ideas, Mary has played God in the propagation of the human species. Now that her job is done, her inquisitiveness becomes useless, or potentially dangerous. Therefore, her death by a natural cause is in high order, which fi ttingly signals a termination to any human intervention in the salvation of the human race. Nature alone takes over. Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 251

So the humankind persists on Santa Rosalia, while in other parts all over the world human beings are wiped out, not by World War Three or nuclear Armageddon, or man-made disasters such as the careless spread of ice-nine, but by a little virus that destroys women’s ova, which makes reproduction impossible. Again, nature takes control. With this plot Vonnegut teaches a lesson he has been warning us of all along: Don’t despise even the lowest creatures; even germs have their worth; they may be more favored than humans in the long run of natural selection. “Galapagos reveals itself as a compellingly logical extension of Vonnegut’s previous work by suggesting another, and more radical, remedy,” observes Peter Freese,

If the tension between the human mind and the given world cannot be alleviated by any attempt at imposing the mind’s order upon the contingency of matter, then the only remaining solution is to abdicate the irritating abilities of man’s troublesome brain. […] This is why one must face up to the lesson of history and realize that human beings are an evolutionary mistake, and that therefore the only chance to prevent the imminent destruction of the world is not to think ever better thoughts but to give up thinking altogether. (2009: 562)

Although I do not agree with Freese’s conclusion that Galapagos is another pessimistic novel of Vonnegut, I think he is fair in the above observation. What Vonnegut does in the novel is to denounce the dominance of intellectualism. In taking such a stance, Vonnegut declares his alliance with the antihumanistic thinkers such as Jonathan Swift, Nietzsche, Adorno, Foucault, and many others. The small-brained, seal- like, laughing fi sherfolks are his spokespersons for his critique and satire of the human hubris in his intellectual supremacy. However, unlike the antihumanists who seek to negate humanity as Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 252 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

a whole, Vonnegut embosoms a stubborn conviction that, in the words of Anne Frank[1] which Vonnegut selects as the book’s epigraph, “In spite everything, I still believe people are really good at heart”. Even though a million years later human beings transform into a state of near “non-human”, they are still referred to as humans, a different species from other animals on the island. The fact that the colonists of the island, the progenitors of the new humans, are none of them typical samples of the Darwinian principle “survival of the fi ttest”, a theory that Vonnegut strongly dislikes, is in itself an insurance that the new humans are not to descend from cruelty or selfishness. Consequently, reassuring performances within the community are depicted. In Akiko, the furry baby Hisako gave birth to on the island who later becomes a major contributor to the future human race, we see all the good qualities Vonnegut advocates for humanity: care, compassion, patience, tolerance, and above all, kindness, as displayed in her uncomplaining care of the elderly and sick Captain, a victim of the Alzheimer’s disease in his old age. In the way Hisako and Selena pair off to raise Akiko, we see admirable tenderness, cooperation, and devotion. In the other Eves of the new human race, the Kanko-bono girls, we see innocence, sharing, sisterhood, and faith. In the last stage that the narrator describes of the human story, the surviving humans on Santa Rosalia actually grow into a community that fulfi lls Vonnegut’s utopian ideal of the extended family:

The Original colonists never became a family which included everyone. Subsequent generations, though, after the last of the old people died, would become a family which included everyone. It had a common language and common jokes and songs and dances and so on, almost everything Kanka-bono. And Kamikaze, when it

[1] Anne Frank (1929—1945) was a German-born Jewish girl who died in the Auschwitz con- centration camp at the age of 16. Her diary gives a detailed account of her family’s experi- ences of hiding during the German occupation of the Netherlands in World War Ⅱ. It was fi rst published in America in 1952. Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 253

was his turn to be an old, old man, became something the Captain had never been, which was a venerated patriarch. And Akiko became a venerated matriarch. (G 272-3)

With such a “cohesive human family” as the ancestral origin from which benefi cial traits are to pass down, there is good reason to believe that the new humans promise goodness and dignity.

Literally and realistically, by presenting the human beings as becoming animals, Vonnegut calls our attention to the kinship between humans and other species, acknowledging our continuity with the rest of nature and foregrounding the materiality of the human identity, both of which the Enlightenment thought has been long trying to downplay. In this sense, the final scenario in Galapagos is pointedly subversive of the Western dualist thinking tradition. As Midgley points out, “the strange segregation of humans from their kindred […] has deformed much of Enlightenment thought”, and it has indeed “terribly delayed our realization of environmental damage itself” (2002: xxiv). Vonnegut evidently agrees with the view. As a humanist and environmental advocate, he has never stopped his attempts at refuting this “strange Enlightenment segregationism”, which is, in nature, speciesism. The effort is especially salient in Galapagos. First of all, Vonnegut emphasizes the idea that humans are products of evolutionary forces and are still under their infl uence. The novel portrays a group of characters subject to evolutionary defects or victimized by such defects in other people: Roy Hepburn dies of brain cancer and James Wait of a defective heart, Mary Hepburn is physically infertile, Selena’s blindness is caused by a hereditary defective gene, Sebastian von Kleist, manager of Hotel El Dorado, has to fi ght the sudden attack of a hereditary disease, Huntington Chorea, to save the guests of his hotel, while Zenji Hiroguchi and Andrew MacIntosh are shot to death by a soldier suddenly Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 254 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

overtaken by paranoid schizophrenia. All these cases and incidents are of unpredictable contingency and happen largely at the mercy of nature. The purpose of such a cast is not preaching determinism, as naturalistic writings do, but to remind us that we human beings are far from the spiritual beings claimed to be away and above nature. No matter how powerful our big brain is, we cannot deny or escape the materiality of our body and the need to follow its laws. Thus the novel undermines the deeply-ingrained assumption of mind/body split and their dualist hierarchy. It also paves the way for the fi nal evolution of humans into seal-like creatures. As the big brain is no longer a survival device but a cumbersome burden, it becomes an evolutionary drawback, just like the unwieldy antlers of the Irish Elk (G 26). It is only natural to do away with it. Referring to Vonnegut’s humanism as “misanthropic humanism”, Robert T. Tally Jr. makes a good point when he says, “By my reading [of Galapagos], Vonnegut overcomes his misanthropic humanism not by abandoning the mis- in misanthropy but by abandoning the anthropos”, by which he means Vonnegut’s proposition of salvation for humanity lies in “shedding itself of the very human, all-too-human, qualities” (114, 127). Interestingly, this is exactly what annoys Davis, that Vonnegut destroys “what make us human” in trying to save humankind from self-destruction. That “what make us human” is indeed the core of debate between the animal-studies scholars and scholars of traditional disciplines. According to the common wisdom, reason and speech are the most important attributes that distinguish humans from animals and place humans in a superior order; but for animal-studies scholars, this distinction is made valuable only for the benefi t of humans defi ning themselves as against nonhuman animals, which denies the possibility of intellectual capability in other animals, thus is anthropocentric and prejudicial in nature. They believe that even if the differences do exist, they do not warrant ethical supremacy. Galapagos can be taken as Vonnegut’s participation in the debate. By Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 255 renouncing the use of the human brain, hence the reasoning and language capabilities that come with it, Vonnegut defies the Western history of humanity and demands a redefinition. He continues to call the seal-like creatures “people” and “modern humans”, which means, for him, the essence of humanity remains; reason and speech are not indispensable attributes of humans. Instead, humans become better and happier without them, as if liberated from their mental trammeling. After long years of skepticism and sideway challenge of the Enlightenment hubris, as we’ve seen in Player Piano, Cat’s Cradle, and Slaughterhouse-Five, Vonnegut fi nally launches his frontal bombardment at the fallacy, with the real villain pinpointed on target—the big brain. In the final chapter of the book, seal-like humans happily join the other animals that have been living a life of “innocent stupidity” on the Galapagos Islands for centuries. They finally become one of them. The author’s dream to live with alligators comes true. Whether a process of “devolution” or “evolution”, the humans’ becoming animals literalizes the fl uidity of humanity and animality described in Deleuz and Guatari’s “Becoming Animals”. It shows Vonnegut’s strong conviction that “we are, after all, close cousins”, in the words of the author-narrator in Slaughterhouse-Five. Humans thus have completed their homecoming journey and reunite with their fellow species. They become the planetary citizens that Vonnegut has been propagandizing for decades. Galapagos, the Pacific volcanic archipelago with its population of lizards, tortoises, iguanas, blue-footed boobies, and thirteen kinds of flinches, thus attains another meaning to its history. For the Bishop of Panama in 1535, it is as hideous as hell and is little else but a cursed land; for Charles Darwin three hundred years later, it is a heaven of unique lives and the birthplace of his stunning Theory of Evolution; for Herman Melville of the 1840s, it is stark and desolate, capable only of symbolic use for solitude and destitution. While Kurt Vonnegut pays tribute to Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 256 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

both Darwin and Melville, he gives each a twist and makes his own contribution[1]. There is in Galapagos the Darwinian admiration of the myriad, specialized lives, but evolution takes place by a faster mutation rather than the gradual transition described by Darwin, and it is no longer a world where the strongest survive, a misconception abused by Social Darwinists. Cooperation proceeds competition; kinship replaces mastery. There is the sentimental symbolism that Melville ascribes to the islands, too, but not in the sense to paint its desolation so as to reflect human helplessness. It becomes a “Second Ark of Noah” (G 5) instead, where humans are cleansed of their sins and make a homecoming journey back to innocence. Lawrence Buell, renowned Harvard professor and champion of environmental criticism, expresses his deep concern in his landmark work The Environmental Imagination (1995) that the American literary institutions have been dominated so much by homocentrism that acute perception of the environment is precluded. He takes Melville for an example, observing that from the almost concurrent encounters with the Galapagos Islands of Melville and Darwin, entirely different results were derived. “Melville’s environmental imagination was too homocentric to allow him to respond as Darwin did” (1995: 5), he maintains, which is all the more revealing because Melville’s sensitivity to physical environments is among the strongest. Buell would be reassured if he read Vonnegut. From a visit to the same islands, this mainstream, postmodern artist has definitely learned more of nature than Melville. The perception he demonstrates about the environment is acute and profound enough to

[1] In his interview with Peter Reed of 1982, Vonnegut mentioned his reading of both Melville and Darwin. He did not talk much about Melville, but there is clear intertextual allusion in Bahia de Darwin to Pequod in Moby Dick, and James Wait is allegedly allusive to Confi dence Man. He dwelt on his displeasure about Darwin’s theory of evolution being regarded as the Bible for the theory and raises question about it. See “A Conversation with Kurt Vonnegut, 1982”, in The Vonnegut Chronicles, p. 13. Chapter 5 Homecoming: Return to the Animal Kingdom—in Pursuit of Ecological Integrity 257 hearten the worrisome ecocritics. In Vonegut, ecological dedication and ardent advocacy of humanism are not contradictory. In the future world he delineates in Galapagos, human beings achieve the ideal state for both the environmentalist and the humanist, a state of both self-realization and harmony. Conclusion

Talking about the relationship between the writer and the reader, Vonnegut believes that “literature is the only art that requires our audience to be performers”. He tells the interviewer:

Literature is idiosyncratic arrangements in horizontal lines of only twenty-six phonetic symbols, ten arabic numbers [sic], and about eight punctuation marks. And yet there are people like you who can look at a printed page and put on shows in your head. […] Our readers have to be performers, so they themselves have done work in order to decode these messages on the page. Because they are involved, they become our partners. They’ve brought themselves to it. That’s the extra dimension about which we know nothing. But it’s delightful to know that they can bring themselves to it. They have to, or they can’t read. (Like Shaking Hands with God 17, 45)

According to Vonnegut, we as readers have to participate in the act of writing and perform the tasks of decoding the messages on the printed page and putting on shows in our imagination. Reading Vonnegut’s novels is exactly such an experience. Simple as most of his works appear to be, they are nonetheless not easy to comprehend. Great efforts are demanded to disclose the real meaning behind the hilarious, absurd, and always jumbled universe that Vonnegut characteristically creates. Oftentimes, if Conclusion 259 not attentive enough, we may miss slippery motifs and overlook serious messages. Such is the case with the animal images. Few animals fi gure prominently in Vonnegut’s fi ction. Most of them are marginal and seem insignificant, like appendixes to a voluminous masterpiece. However, they never fail to appear. Metaphorically or literally, as means of expression or as roles in the story, Vonnegut’s animals constantly make appearances on the pages and claim our attention. Claude Levi-Strauss writes in his monumental anthropological study of Totemism that animals are “good to think” (89). Vonnegut, himself an anthropology MA student, may have also realized the importance of animals in the human perception and conceptualization of the world. Speaking through animals is a remarkable feature of his art. However, unlike Levi-Strauss and many others, Vonnegut does not use animals only as symbols for the study of humanity, but also consciously treats animals as living entities of their own interests. He is never indifferent to the experiences of the animals in the real world and makes conscious efforts to incorporate them into his predominant humanistic themes. In the essay “The Animal That Therefore I Am”, Derrida reiterates that the cat that encounters and gazes him in his nudity is a “real cat”. “It isn’t the fi gure of a cat” that “enter[s] the bedroom as an allegory for all the cats on the earth, the felines that traverse our myths and religions, literature and fables” (6). It is this singularity and “realness” of the cat that evoke one of the most signifi cant philosophical meditations about animals in the Western philosophy. Similarly, most of the animals in Vonnegut’s fi ction are “real”. They are living, breathing, and even personalized creatures, although their personality, like that of Vonnegut’s human characters, is usually two- dimensional and caricaturized, such as Dwayne’s tailless dog that has to be misunderstood and beaten by his own kind and the dog in Jailbird who engages himself in a constant, desperate combat with passing automobiles. Most of the animals that frequent the Vonnegut world are domestic animals, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 260 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

such as dogs, horses, cattle, and the familiar birds. Very few of them are wild, ferocious, aggressive predators. Even if they are wild, they belong to the herbivorous, docile species, and most of them share a common feature of being awkward and preposterous-looking, such as the giraffe, the fl amingo, the rhinoceros, and the aardvark. Vonnegut’s animals never pose danger to the humans. Instead, they invariably become victims of human cruelty. At best, they are stereotyped and made fun of in the human imagination; at worst, they are killed and become dishes on the dinner table or crushed by the forces of human ingenuity in the form of science and technology. Even in the case of companion animals, there is a paradox of domination and affection: the apparent intimacy and dependence humans show to their pets is often based on mastery and dominion, as in the case of Selena’s neutered seeing-eye dog and Rumfoord’s Mastiff. In all cases, Vonnegut’s sympathy for the living animals is obvious, constant, and sincere, displaying his enlarged compassion as a humanitarian writer and his conscious involvement in the contemporary debates over the animal question. In the portrayal of animal sufferings, he challenges the long- standing western tradition that treats animals as “dumb beasts” that are inferior and cannot feel, thus aligns himself with the camp of intellectuals headed by Bentham, the 17th-century philosopher who proposed changing the question regarding animals from “Can they think?” into “Can they suffer?” Commenting on “The Animal That Therefore I Am”, Marie-Louise Mallet observes that Derrida has brought to our attention the “fragility” and “porosity” of the supposed frontiers of the “proper” upon which we have presumed for so long to found the traditional opposition between “man” ad “animal”. “In so doing,” she says, “however much it may disturb all those assurances concerning the ‘animality’ of the animal ‘in general’, it is no less disturbing for any assurance concerning the ‘humanity’ of the human” (Derrida xi). “Animals are my concern. Whether in the form of Conclusion 261 a figure or not,” Derrida proclaims (35). In the lecture/essay, he spends much time repudiating the “unprecedented proportions of this subjection of the animal” (Derrida 25), with unequivocal reference to the “industrial, mechanical, chemical, hormonal, and genetic violence to which man has been submitting animal life for the past two centuries” (Derrida 26). And yet the discussion invariably springs from and leads to the examination of humanity and the Western philosophical tradition that has been anthropocentrically prejudiced against animals and maltreated them, “from Aristotle to Descartes, from Descartes, especially, to Heidegger, Levinas, and Lacan” (Derrida 27). The titles of the three conferences he suggested well summarize his thinking: “The End of Man”, “The Crossing of Borders”, and “The Autobiographical Animal” (Derrida 2, 29). In a similar manner, in Vonnegut’s representation of the sufferings of animals, scathing critique is always directed at humanity. Whether as farm animals raised as meat machines, or as pets to accompany the lonely human, or as useful tools in wars or scientifi c experiments, it is always in the encounter with the humans that animals lose their autonomy and become abused, pathetic figures. Humanity is Vonnegut’s insistent target of criticism and center of concern. By describing the entanglement and encounter of humans and animals, however flimsy the description is, Vonnegut forces us to reconsider “who we are”, “who they are,” and “how we all are intertwined”, to borrow the words of Kari Weil (xvii). Like Swift who uses animals as a mirror to refl ect the human ugliness and deformity, Vonnegut depicts the miseries of animals to refl ect human cruelty. What is different is that, instead of imaginary animals, Vonnegut writes about real animals and shows deep concern for their conditions as well as that of humans. In his treatment of animal welfare, Vonnegut demonstrates humanistic inclinations, too. Unlike the animal rights activists who try to elevate animals’ status in the human society so as to eliminate species discrimination, Vonnegut degrades humans for the same purpose, by Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 262 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

debunking the follies of humanity in its pomposity, arrogance, stupidity, and cruelty. An analogous condition of helplessness and victimization in face of oppression and violence is also illuminated between animals and humans. Despite all the alleged exceptional attributes that safeguard its superiority, reason and speech in particular, humanity is shown in Vonnegut’s fiction to be no better than the beast, either in terms of savagery that is generally ascribed to animality or in terms of free will that is believed to be mankind’s privilege. The boundary of species, the “insuperable line”, is thus seriously blurred, its “fragility” and “porosity” become apparent. Constantly, Vonnegut describes human condition against the measurement of animals, making theriomorphic comparisons of humans to animals, instead of the traditional anthropomorphism that humanizes animals. By speaking of humanity in terms of animality, Vonnegut demythologizes the Enlightenment concept of human supremacy and brings man down from his hallowed throne as the pinnacle of the world. Indeed, “the End of Man” and “the Crossing of the Borders” can well be the summary of Vonnegut’s philosophy, too. In spite of his relentless criticism of humanity, however, Vonnegut is not a total pessimist or antihumanist. Contrarily, as he repeatedly asserts in lectures and essays, humanity is his “religion” and the only “superstition” that he believes in. Although he is fi ercely angered by the wrongs and ruins humans have done to other species and the planet Earth, and although he truly believes that “the immune system of Earth is trying to get rid of us”, envisioning in his fi ctional world various scenarios of apocalypse, he nevertheless refuses to give up all hope for humanity. He made this clear when he spoke to the Bennington graduates: “Military science is probably right about the contemptibility of man in the vastness of the universe. Still—I deny that contemptibility, and I beg you to deny it, through the creation or appreciation of art” (WFG 165). Indeed, there is an insistent urge in Vonnegut’s novels to make sense out of the chaotic universe and Conclusion 263 a desire to search for solutions to the human predicament. “The Church of God the Utterly Indifferent” in The Sirens of Titan, Bokononism in Cat’s Cradle, and “The Church of Jesus the Christ the Kidnapped” in Slapstick are all examples of such efforts, although they all end up horribly misguided. In the portrayal of the younger generation, we can see the glimmering hope for the human future. Chrono in Sirens of Titan, Melody in Slapstick, Rob Roy in Hocus Pocus, and Akiko in Galapagos are all young characters that demonstrate compassion, kindness, care, perseverance, and gratitude for life. They are responsible for their own life and foster faith in a better future. Even in Slaughterhouse-Five, where the world ends up like the lifeless moon, signs of spring are described in the ruins of Dresden. As Sumner points out, “There are always seeds of hope in destruction, victories amid the larger defeat, birth on the frontiers of death” (185). The concept of ecological humanism appropriately captures the mixed sentiments of hate and love for humanity that characterizes Vonnegut’s humanism. On the one hand, it denotes ruthless criticism of the hubris of human supremacy that classic humanism has boosted, denouncing, in particular, the cult of reason and the hegemony of scientism and technocracy that has put humans in separation from and antagonism against nature and other animal species. On the other hand, ecological humanism maintains the appreciation of the grace and dignity humankind has as a species, recommending proper and constructive use of its special capabilities, such as compassion, reflection, self-examination, and moral consideration for others, for the restoration of the harmony between humans and their fellow species. Drawing upon the ideals of classic humanism such as democracy, equality, liberty, and self-realization, eco-humanism proposes the extension of these ideals to the nonhuman sphere, a tendency that is salient in Vonnegut’s animal poetics. For both Vonnegut and eco-humanists, speciesism is always in collaboration with sexism, racism, classism, Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 264 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

and all other forms of discrimination based on difference. Therefore, the eradication of speciesism is critical for the thorough liberation of human groups marginalized in society. Moreover, in both the Vonnegutian cosmology and ecological humanism, classic humanism is reexamined against the context of the deteriorating ecological crisis. It becomes clear to both that the fundamental cause of the ecological destruction consists in the anthropocentricism that is rooted in classic humanism. A redefi nition of the human role in the universe and the ecological community is attempted in both, remapping the human relationship with nature and the nonhuman species from one of mastery and domination into one of equality and fellowship, from the “paragon of animals” into humble members of the biotic community. The science fiction narrative mode helps Vonnegut achieve this goal. By having his characters travel to extraterrestrial planets and meet with alien visitors, Vonnegut creates an interplanetary perspective and useful distance to refl ect humanity, to look at humans as “Earthlings” and “planetary citizens”, and thus reveals their commonality and defl ates any vain assumption of superiority. Therefore, ecological humanism gives meaning and system to Vonnegut’s apparently discursive treatment of animals and the ecological awareness permeating in his writing, as well as the science fiction devices that Vonnegut fi nds so hard to give away although it caused him so much anxiety of recognition. Underneath this umbrella concept, they become consistent and integral ingredients contributing to the special flavor of his predominant humanistic themes. It also helps further our understanding of Vonnegut’s status as an angry but stubborn advocate of humanism. He believes in the Enlightenment notion of human dignity and perfectibility, but he also sees the stupidity and danger if it goes unbridled. Radical reform is in high order and he proposes a humbled self-image. To redeem our sins in the destruction of the environment and restore our fellowship with other animals, Vonnegut maintains, we need fi rst to “de- Conclusion 265 humanize” ourselves, say good-bye to the big brain that has poisoned our understanding of ourselves and our relation to others, and return to where we are from, namely, the animal kingdom, metaphorically and/or literally. Vonnegut is not a conscious animal rights writer. The position of animals in his fi ction is mostly marginal and peripheral. Although most of them are real, living beings, their roles are primarily in the service of his humanistic themes, as refl ections of the human condition. The concern for their own interest, constant and sincere as it is, is subsidiary in comparison to the overarching concerns of humanity. Likewise, Vonnegut’s ecological awareness is mainly expressed in his essays. Breakfast of Champions is the only fi ctional work where serious and concentrated discussion of ecological issues is incorporated. In most other works, it is interspersed and scattered, lacking the momentum to claim sustained attention. Therefore, although the impetus for a reexamination of the human-animal relationship in relation to humanism is sure and persistent, Vonnegut’s ecological humanism is still on a burgeoning stage. Therefore, the title of this book is “toward ecological humanism”. Both ecological humanism and animal studies are emergent fi elds of interdisciplinary studies, and there is little systematic literary studies done in either perspective. Meanwhile, animal images in Vonnegut’s works have been largely ignored in the Vonnegut scholarship, so that reference for the interpretation of their signifi cance in his fi ction is hard to fi nd. These factors in combination, the present research on Vonnegut’s ecological humanism from the perspective of animal studies is highly tentative and might be faulty in certain aspects. Further efforts are needed to improve it. However, I do believe that the ubiquity of the animals in Vonnegut’s fictional world deserves serious attention and ecological humanism is an appropriate concept to define his study of humanity. Moreover, with the establishment of the ecocritical paradigm in the diverse fields of the Humanities, the animal turn is becoming more and more prominent and Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 266 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

animal studies is claiming more attention. It is highly necessary, too, in view of the prevailing oppression humans daily infl ict on the other animals and the arrogant disregard for the animal welfare that is still widespread in the contemporary society. To relate to it and learn from its concepts and perspectives may open a refreshing window for literary scholars to a wider and more meaningful world. Works Cited

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陈红 . 兽性、动物性和人性 . 武汉 ：华中师范大学出版社，2005. 陈世丹 . 库尔特 · 冯内古特对现实世界与小说世界的解构与重构及其 新历史主义倾向 . 厦门 ：厦门大学，2002. ——. 冯内古特的后现代主义小说艺术 . 北京：外语教学与研究出版社， 2010. ——、高华 . 论冯内古特构建的适于后现代人类生存的社会生态环 境 . 当代外国文学，2010（1）：133-141. 代姑．五号屠场．当代外国文学 ,1980 (2) ：12-47． 冯内古特 . 五号屠场 . 虞建华译 . 南京 ：译林出版社，2008. 胡家峦．和平的王国 ：文艺复兴时期英国园林诗歌与动物象征 . 外语 与外语教学，2006（1）：32-35. 靳新来 .“人”与“兽”的纠葛——鲁迅笔下的动物意象 . 上海 ：上海 三联书店，2010. 卡西尔 . 人论 . 甘阳译 . 上海 ：上海译文出版社，2004. 雷根 . 李曦译 . 动物权利研究 . 北京 ：北京大学出版社，2009. 陆凡、蒲隆 . 库尔特 · 冯尼格特简论 . 美国当代小说家论 . 钱满素主编 . 北京 ：中国社会科学出版社，1987. 罗小云 . 拼贴未来的文学——美国后现代作家冯尼格特研究 . 重庆 ： 重庆出版集团 , 2006. 米兰多拉 . 论人的尊严 . 樊虹谷译 . 北京 ：北京大学出版社，2010. 纳什 . 大自然的权利 ：环境伦理学史 . 杨通进译 . 青岛 ：青岛出版社， 1999. 尚晓进 . 走向艺术——冯内古特小说研究 . 上海 ：上海大学出版社， 2006. 佘正荣 . 走向“生态人文主义”. 自然辩证法研究，Vo l. 13（8）， Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 284 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

1997 ：41-45. 唐克龙 . 中国现当代动物叙事研究 . 天津 ：南开大学出版社，2010. 托马斯. 人类与自然世界：1500—1800 年间英国观念的变化. 宋丽丽译 . 南京 ：译林出版社，2008. 王晓华 . 生态批评——主体间性的黎明 . 哈尔滨 ：黑龙江人民出版社， 2007. 沃斯特 . 自然的经济体系——生态思想史 . 侯文蕙译 . 北京 ：商务印书 馆，2007. 杨通进 . 环境伦理 ：全球话语，中国视野 . 重庆 ：重庆出版社，2007. 张子清 . 反映当代美国社会的一面哈哈镜——试评冯尼古特及其小说 的思想性与艺术性 . 当代外国文学 1980（2）：2-11. Abbreviations

AMWC A Man Without a Country BC Breakfast of Champions CC Cat’s Cradle CKV Conversations with Kurt Vonnegut FWTD Fates Worse Than Death G Galapagos: A Novel HP Hocus Pocus JB Jailbird PS Palm Sunday PP Player Piano SF Slaughterhouse-Five SS Slapstick ST The Sirens of Titan T Timequake WFG Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons

Notes: These abbreviations will be used only when passages from corresponding books are quoted. When words in quoted passages are omitted, the omitted words will be replaced with “…”. Acknowledgments

The book is completed on the basis of my dissertation of the same title, which is the result of a hard process of doubting, hesitating, worrying, and gaining in confidence, as Vonnegut is a difficult writer, and animals in his fi ction a topic rarely touched upon. It was with the help, encourage- ment, and love from my dear professors, classmates, friends, and family that I succeeded in pulling through. First and foremost, I feel deeply indebted to Professor Guo Qiqing, my advisor, without whose invaluable guidance, unfailing support, and steadfast trust, any of my achievements during the Ph.D. years would have been impossible. Not only has he given me important academic instructions and inspiration, but also wisdom and insight for life that will benefit me all my life. Professor Guo Jide, my MA advisor, has never ceased to care for me, encourage me, and push me ahead when I was lazy or timid, even long after I graduated from Shandong University. It was under his urge that I fi nally made the step for the Ph.D. program. I benefi ted enormously, too, from the advice and suggestions of Professor Jin Li, Professor Ma Hailiang, Professor Chen Shidan, Professor Liu Shusen, and Professor Li Jin in the writing of the dissertation and the improvement of it into the present form of a monograph. Foreign professors in the fi eld of animal studies and ecocriticism of- fered invaluable help, too. Dr. Scott Slovic invited me to the University of Nevada, Reno and became my American advisor for the dissertation, who proved to have given me help in much more aspects. Dr. Greg Garrard of Bath Spa University, UK generously read my essay on Slaughterhouse-Five Acknowledgments 287 at the 2009 Peking University conference and offered important sugges- tions. Dr. Cheryll Glotfelty, in spite of her initial doubts about the feasibil- ity of my proposal, gave me the most unreserved praise after reading part of my draft and offered me a copy of bibliography of animal studies that she has used for teaching. Correspondence with eminent professors such as Erica Fudge in the UK and Linda Kalof in the US has also proved reward- ing, both academically and intellectually. Thanks also go to my classmates, colleagues, and friends whose un- derstanding and support have been important sources of strength and spiri- tual comfort for me. Professor Zou Huiling from Jiansu Normal University has turned from an MA classmate into a sisterly figure in my life; Tang Jiannan, Zhu Ronghua, Wen Sheng, Xie Dengpan, Li Danling, and Wang Hongxin are my “comrades in the same battle” at BFSU; Tao Ying, Zhou Chun, Long Yun, Li Wanyi, Zhang Juan, and many more of my colleagues and friends at BISU have shared with me joy and sorrow, tears and laugh- ter, support and understanding. There is also thank to Tom Hertweck, a Ph.D. candidate at UNR and a young Vonnegut scholar, and Josh Suspendor, an unknown American on-line librarian, for their generous help. My graduate students deserve a word of thanks, too. Ma Ning and Li Cheng, for example, have helped to borrow books and print materials in times of emergency. I feel sincere gratitude for Beijing Foreign Studies University for giv- ing me the opportunity to visit America for half a year during my Ph.D. studies, which proved very meaningful for the writing of the dissertation. I am truly grateful that Beijing International Studies University has supported me for the Ph.D. program and granted me funding for the publi- cation of the book. Thanks also go to my editors at China Renmin University Press, for the tedious work they have done in order to bring the book to its fi nal pub- lication. Toward Ecological Humanism: Decoding the Animal Images in Kurt Vonnegut’s Fiction 288 走向生态人文主义——解码冯内古特小说中的动物意象

Finally, I owe a deep-felt “thank you” to my family, without whose persistent support it would have been impossible for me to fi nish my Ph.D. studies and complete the dissertation. For all the years, my husband has undertaken most of the tasks of childcare and much housekeeping, trying to spare as much time as possible for me to concentrate on my research. Spe- cial thanks are for my dear daughter, who has turned from a kindergarten babe into an elementary school pupil in the course of my studies. She had to endure so much pain of separation on numerous weekends and holidays, because Mom had to work. One positive infl uence I had on her, though, is that she has grown into an independent girl and a young “nature defender”, who believes animals do deserve our respect! 中国人民大学出版社外语出版分社读者信息反馈表

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