Raja’a Khalid on Kurt Vonnegut

he first Kurt Vonnegut book that I ever read was his memoir, (2005)—incidentally, the last title that he had promised to write and publish. It was 2006, and my father had picked up a copy from an airport. After reading only a few pages, he declared Vonnegut as an essential voice for our time, which was, back then, five years deep into the “War on Terror.” I was 21, fresh out of art school, possessing more than the requisite rage, build unwieldy regimes of mendacity and barbarity.