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  • Published: 2 January 2014
  • ISBN: 9780099583479
  • Imprint: Vintage Classics
  • Format: Paperback
  • Pages: 240
  • RRP: $37.99

Fates Worse Than Death

An Autobiographical Collage of the 1980s




A collection of autobiographical writings by the most zanily imaginative and brilliantly barking commentator of the post-war era

This is the second volume of Vonnegut’s autobiographical writings – a collage of his own life story, snipped up and stuck down alongside his views on everything from suicidal depression to the future of the planet and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Honest, dark, rambling, funny; this rare glimpse of Vonnegut's soul is a dagger to the heart of Western complacency.

  • Published: 2 January 2014
  • ISBN: 9780099583479
  • Imprint: Vintage Classics
  • Format: Paperback
  • Pages: 240
  • RRP: $37.99

About the author

Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut's black humor, satiric voice, and incomparable imagination first captured America’s attention in The Sirens of Titan in 1959 and established him as “a true artist” (The New York Times) with Cat’s Cradle in 1963. He was, as Graham Greene declared, “one of the best living American writers.” Vonnegut died April 11, 2007.

Also by Kurt Vonnegut

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Praise for Fates Worse Than Death

An American cultural hero celebrated for his wry, loonily imaginative commentary on war, apocalypse, technology, materialism and other afflictions... One of the last of a generation of great American novelists of World War II

Los Angeles Times

Like listening to the monologue of an interesting man whose tongue has been loosened by just one glass of wine

Guardian

Fates Worse Than Death is honest and scarily funny, and it offers a rare insight into an author who has customarily hidden his heart

New York Times

Vonnegut's sharp wit and intellect are tempered but not blunted by his honesty and humanity

Independent

A truly great work of moral philosophy

The Age

Fates Worse Than Death is the latest volume of his cunning, rambling, edgy sermonettes, his wry, moral bomblets chucked night after night from podium and pulpit into gatherings of shrinks and museologists, Anglicans, architects, MIT graduands and the like. Rumours that the old boy was losing his knack of drilling straight into the nerve of western complacency can, on the evidence of this marvellously tetchy wit, be discounted.

Observer