America, and mankind in general, seen through the eyes of an alien from outer space. At times you get the feeling, of a schizophrenic. More or less the same, either way, at least for Vonnegut. Such a view reveals everything that is absurd and inhumane about the world. He explains at times his concept of real art and a revolutionary novel – where the artist does not tell the reader anything, does not bias the reader, does not indoctrinate the reader by telling him what is important and what not, or how this and that is to be interpreted. Vonnegut’s hero – and story teller – simply jots down perceptions as they come, leaving the reader to make sense of what is going on. In other words, Vonnegut has an own idea of art and writing, and he actualises it in his own text. Whenever you think it’s all nonsense, it’s exactly what Vonnegut means. Our world is all nonsense, devoid of meaning. The only way to grasp that is to look at it with unperverted eyes, unperverted by any ideology of what is ‘normal’, ‘natural’, or ‘right’. Just like someone from another planet. Or someone who is labelled insane. The world upside down. Right is wrong, normal is abnormal, sane is insane.