Word: trout
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...Kilgore Trout. The geography of Vonnegut's universe extends from the inferno of Dresden, where he underwent the fire-raids of World War II (Slaughterhouse-Five), to the purgatory of Ilium, alias Schenectady, N.Y., where he labored unhappily as a public relations man for General Electric (Player Piano). It also includes the mysterious paradise of Tralfamadore, a planet where little green men explain to earthlings that time is not a flowing river but a range of mountains, all eternally coexistent. Many of Vonnegut's characters, too, coexist from book to book. Kilgore Trout, the science-fiction writer...
Marry me a wife; catch rainbow trout...
Schmitt seemed none too steady as he began his sampling, tumbling twice and muttering "Dadgummit" as he struggled to rise. But his chagrin turned to excitement near a crater named Shorty (after a character in Richard Brautigan's novel Trout Fishing in America). Suddenly, as his space boots scuffed some of the gray topsoil from the crater's rim, he exclaimed: "Hey, there is orange soil. It's all over." Chugging toward him, Cernan shouted: "Well, don't move until I see it!" The astronauts' enthusiasm on the moon was shared by scientists watching...
...screenwriter (Stephen Geller) have done is combine some of the Vonnegut reactions the author presents intermittently in his book with a now slightly-more-articulate Pilgrim. They have also cut away any digressive interludes with such past Vonnegut characters as do-gooder Eliot Rosewater and sci-fi prophet Kilgore Trout, and built up interplay between two characters more central to the heart of Slaughterhouse itself: Edgar Derby, Billy's best friend, substitute father figure and moral fellow; and PaulLazarro, the evil of the world summed up in a pipsqueak from South Philly, a monomaniacal revenger who finally kills Pilgrim...
...them bigger than a sheet of typing paper, in which objects are set and, as it were, embalmed. The gel has the disconcerting resiliency of flesh-it feels vulnerable and intimate-while its contents, which may be any thing from a cut-out decal of a rain bow trout to a diminutive plastic air plane, exhale a delicate poetry of sur realist juxtaposition; their like has not been seen in America since Joseph Cornell's boxes. Memory and touch, a poignant archaeology of the self: at its best, Paris' work is pure magic...