Breakfast of Champions

In the preface to Breakfast of Champions, Kurt Vonnegut describes the novel as a "50th birthday present" to himself. That's a really apt description of the book in general, which has no real moral or theme overall (or at least, even less of one than most of Vonnegut's books), but which is easily the most "Vonnegut" of all eight Vonnegut books I've read. There are non sequiturs, there is overt foretelling of events (straight up spoiling, really), the fourth wall is broken and completely abandoned about two thirds of the way into the story, and there are even crude illustrations of things like Nazi flags and vaginas - which made me very worried and aware of my surroundings as I read this book in an airport and on a plane, by the way. Vonnegut interjects human tragedy with human silliness, and vice versa, for 300 pages in his trademark way, and even though the book was fairly light on plot, per se, it'll likely go down as one of the more memorable books I'll ever read. Totally silly, but completely enjoyable. "And so on."