Extended Essay English A Category 1

November 2022

Word count: 3976

Kurt Vonnegut’s use of irony within identity to explore fate and free will in The Sirens of Titan.

Table of Contents

Introduction 3

Analysis of Characters

Malachi Constant 4

Winston Niles Rumfoord 6

Beatrice Rumfoord 8

Chrono 9

Boaz 11

Salo 12

Conclusion 15

Bibliography 16

Introduction

To underestimate the power of human desperation is to commit sacrilege. Some of history’s most iconic works — such as Mozart’s masterful composition of “Don Giovanni’s Overture,” written the night before the play’s premiere, are exemplifications of the human mind’s ability to garner inspiration under immense pressure. Kurt Vonnegut’s The Sirens of Titan is a testament to this, seeking its origins at a party as an improvised plotline contrived in response to an editor’s queries on the author’s extended seven-year hiatus since his debut novel, Player Piano (Allen 35). Though the book distances itself from the typical “Freytag’s Pyramid” structure adopted by authors in order to construct a narrative, its decentralized nature allows for a deeper exploration of authorial choices stemming beyond just the plot.

Of the many facets that compose Vonnegut’s identity as an author of satirical fiction, the use of irony in his novels is particularly noteworthy (Marvin 72). Employing this literary device through means such as humor is used as a vessel to deliver the darker messages Vonnegut strives to propagate to the reader, whilst simultaneously lessening the blow they inflict (Rose 22). Much to the criticism of the author, the identities of characters within the majority of Vonnegut’s works, including The Sirens of Titan, serve as symbols with less of a focus on the well-roundedness of the character (McConnell 214). However, this feature of satire works better with the polythematicism of Vonnegut’s works, allowing for a heightened sense of efficiency in the conveyance of his ideas without having the obligation to deeply explore the multifaceted nature of each character.

The book, (heretofore referred to as Sirens) embodies the key elements of the Vonnegut style in their most infantile stages, demonstrating the author’s use of the elements of the science fiction genre combined with dark humor in order to construct a social commentary on complex topics like politics and religion (Marvin 82), as well as to publish a profound exploration into the nature of man and purpose of human existence. In extension to the latter conception, the notion of fate and free will is a topic Vonnegut fixates on and explores extensively in Sirens, as well as in his numerous other published works (Leeds 252).

By uniting some of the most well-recognized elements of the author’s writing into a narrower scope of exploration, one is able to garner new analyses that extend past what has already been derived from previous knowledge. Hence, it is of great pertinence that this exploration strives to address the inquiry of how Vonnegut’s use of irony within identity explores the theme of fate and free will in The Sirens of Titan.

Malachi Constant

Malachi Constant — the richest man in the United States, and a prolific frequenter of Hollywood nightclubs, is cast within a narrative that forces him to lose out on the primary parts that make up his identity and condemns him for his past recklessness and hubris. Like the plethora of other main characters in Vonnegut books, Constant represents a loose projection of the author’s psyche, channeling the inner turmoil and beliefs of Vonnegut through his diction (Hume 177). Because of this, he is constructed as a symbolic character, with the author also placing an emphasis on Constant’s redeeming qualities as a way of keeping the audience rooting for the character throughout his journey (McConnell 197). Though he does go through transitions in identity as he becomes Unk and the Space Wanderer, each of these are vast disconnections from the “original” Constant as he is faced with an extreme array of circumstances, thus adding to a holistic picture of who Malachi Constant really is while simultaneously conveying their own messages.

As the successor of Noel Constant, a prolific investor with unrivaled luck and an “idiotically simple” system of buying shares in corporations whose initials lined up with different letters in the Gideon Bible garnered him wealth in the billions, Malachi continues employing his father’s strategy up until his encounter with Rumfoord. Subsequent attempts to escape his eventual destiny with Beatrice, his prophesied wife, result in him losing all his acquired wealth, ending a decades-long streak of fortune and providence attached to the Constant name.

Amidst the changes he experiences in the story’s progression, the single value Vonnegut chooses to hold true about the character that appears at the very beginning and at the very end of the novel is that of divine intervention, whether positive or negative, within Malachi’s life. The epigraph that prefaces the first chapter of the book is a remark made by Constant when questioned by Rumfoord in regards to whom he attributes his “wonderful luck,” to which the billionaire replies, “I guess somebody up there likes me” (Vonnegut 16). This idea is paralleled in the final exchange between Unk (Constant’s Martian identity) and his best friend, Stony Stevenson within a delusion he experiences right before he passes away:

“‘We’re — we’re going to Paradise now?’ said Constant. ‘I — I’m going to get into Paradise?’

‘Don’t ask me why, old sport,’ said Stony, ‘but somebody up there likes you’” (Vonnegut 224).

A comparison can be made between the two phrases (Schatt 32), where Stony substitutes the postulative “I guess” in favor of a much more affirmative statement, urging the audience to reflect over the journey Constant has taken throughout the book up until his eventual acceptance of divine intervention. Though one might expect the certainty of such a phrase to arise when Constant still had his fortune and worldly possessions, ironically, he embraces this idea with comfort when he lies alone, delirious in a frigid bus station as the life drains out of him. The aftermath of his intergalactic journey presents a happier, more fulfilled existence — a state he continues to exist in as he dies. His acceptance of his destiny with Beatrice on Titan and all Trafalmadorian doings leads him to an elevated sense of reality, one that makes him more joyous than he ever was as a rich young man, implying that true happiness that defies circumstance only comes when one stops worrying about the frivolities of fate, and, in Beatrice’s words, “lov[ing] whoever is around to be loved” (Vonnegut 220). There is a further layer of irony when one considers that though the notion of being on his way to “paradise” does provide Constant with some comfort, whether he actually gets there is now irrelevant, as his final identity chooses to embrace the selflessness that comes from Beatrice’s ideology (Schatt 32). This devalues every decision he has made in his past to avoid his fate, making a mockery of his once perceived free will.

Winston Niles Rumfoord

Though descriptions of Constant’s activities are the most abundant within the novel, rendering him to be perceived by the majority as the automatic protagonist, one might argue that Vonnegut actually possesses the inability to decide on the true primary character (Allen 39). Rumfoord, who features significantly less within the novel, is arguably the one that demonstrates the most intricacy, and who Vonnegut poses the most ethically and socially complex dilemmas to. He, unlike Constant, does not go through a series of episodes where his identity fluctuates and changes. The reader is made clear from the beginning of the state of his existence as a wave-particle phenomenon in the Chronosynclastic Infundibulum, and there are scarcely any secrets when it comes to the reader’s perception of what Rumfoord is capable of as it pertains to his extensive perception of time and the future. As Rumfoord is the one to inform both Beatrice and Malachi of their eventual fates, he is shown as a character that is enlightened to the functions of god and the universe, which is further enhanced through the author’s use of juxtaposition when he is met with ignorance and adamant resistance from both parties (McConnell 219).

Because Rumfoord is represented as the picture of enlightenment, and Malachi of ignorance, it is a constant source of fascination to the reader when both characters seem to demonstrate traits of the other. Rumfoord, who is revealed to be grappling with the existentialism founded on the knowledge that he himself is being controlled by the Trafalmadorians, attempts to resist the reins of fate that reach to envelop him within this preset narrative by organizing a Martian invasion that leads to the unification of mankind under the “Church of God the Utterly Indifferent,” a religion he founds whose primary doctrine revolves around the very opposite of the aforementioned idea.

He exerts his perceived free will as he takes on the role of the informant that relays the message of Malachi’s eventual destiny, and even states in regards to fortune telling that, “it’s a thankless job, telling people it’s a hard, hard Universe they’re in” (Vonnegut 19), placing himself in the position of power and casting his eyes down on the inferior beings that resist their fates. This is ironic when considering Rumfoord’s own agenda, as the parallelism between Rumfoord’s own revealed ignorance and Constant’s fruitless efforts to deny his destiny with Beatrice demonstrates that although on a superficial level, they are considered to be very opposites, Constant and Rumfoord, in their arrogance, both demonstrate an intrinsic similarity to each other. Through their shared avoidance of fate, Vonnegut illustrates that human ignorance and the pursuit of free will, as fickle as it may be, is a trait that is not exclusive to a specific group of individuals. Rumfoord, though tragically blind to such a concept, expresses the exact idea to Beatrice in relation to her and Constant’s destiny, stating “life for a punctual person is like a roller coaster” (Vonnegut 41). Though he may hold the ability to inform Beatrice about all the various twists and turns of said roller coaster, the ultimate influence of fate states that she’d have to take the roller coaster anyways.

 Fate is non-discriminatory, even when one possesses the power to see through space and time. Rumfoord describes life like a roller coaster, and yet he does not acknowledge that he also ultimately has to get on the same ride as everyone else. This projection of power onto Beatrice is a failed method of self-assurance, further emphasizing the irony of Trafalmadorian intervention.

Beatrice Rumfoord

Beatrice is introduced as the counterpart of Malachi’s destiny. A cold, sterile, and bitter picture of a woman, she holds a strong degree of resentment towards her then-husband Winston as he reveals to her in the beginning of the book the lack of free will she possesses over her life’s choices. She, like Constant, makes a substantial effort to avoid ending up on Mars, but travels there nonetheless after being tricked into getting on a spaceship. What follows is the tragic and foretold conception of Chrono, where Constant unknowingly rapes Beatrice. This is the first marked transition of Beatrice, as the facets of her identity that are defined as “clean” and “virginal” are taken away from her. The most ironic aspect of this is, however, that this primary albeit immensely immoral transformation acted as a gateway for Beatrice to reach her final identity, which more closely resembles a “warm earth goddess” (Schatt 35). Though lending to character progression, such an effect is not to be confused as justification, as Vonnegut never specified in Rumfoord’s predictions the circumstance of Chrono’s conception and it was out of Constant’s own arrogance that he decided to rape her. As the former recounts the act, he notes both the contributing factors of fate and free will into the event:

“The lieutenant-colonel realized for the first time what most people never realize about themselves — that he was not only a victim of outrageous fortune, hilt one of outrageous fortune’s cruelest agents as well” (Vonnegut 115).

There is a binary description of Malachi as both a victim of fate, as well as one of fate’s “cruelest agents” as well. Though both instances of characterization imply the involvement of fate in Constant’s actions, the latter use of the word “agent” suggests a degree of autonomy in his motions. This is one of the minor instances within the novel where free will is mentioned as a contributing factor to a character’s undertakings, as the attribution of pure fate to this heinous act is a complete and unjust alleviation of the responsibility of the perpetrator.

There is a stark contrast between Beatrice’s Martian identity as “Bee,” which still preserves a sense of sterility (albeit less so compared to her identity on earth), and her final self, who makes her way to Titan after crash-landing in the Amazon Rainforest with Chrono. The time she spends there alters her formerly pristine physical appearance, darkening her skin and losing her teeth in a manner that would have horrified her past self (Marvin 80). She preoccupies herself on Titan by writing a book entitled The True Purpose of Life in the Solar System, a text that refutes Rumfoord’s “Church of God the Utterly Indifferent.” It is a complete acceptance of Trafalmadorian intervention, which demonstrates the extent to which her mindset has changed since the very beginning of the novel. Ironically, she is the most content when she is “dirtied,” with every past affliction leading up to this state finally allowing her to embrace the influences of fate.

Chrono

Chrono is a prime example of Vonnegut’s preference of writing symbolic rather than well-rounded characters. His main purpose within the plot is to bear a “good luck piece,” a seemingly insignificant strip of metal that serves as the replacement part for Salo’s spaceship, and the product of what ends up being the entire purpose of the narrative and Earthling history as we know it. Though this is crucial within the story and provides a profound commentary on the irrelevance of man and the futility of his actions, his significance and symbolism extend further when one examines the contrasting manner in which he addresses fate in comparison to every other character.

Chrono possesses a keen lack of consideration for any topic other than the game German Batball, which he plays in the schoolyard with his classmates. As the son of Beatrice and Constant, he is brought up on Mars, desiring to know very little about his dad, and only recognizing Beatrice as “Bee,” an instructor of new recruits in the Martian Army on the Schliemann Breathing Technique. The unconscious realization and the childlike familiarity he has in relation to the notion that everything is predetermined grants him genuine ignorance, which ironically makes him more lucid than either of his parents, as it saves him from the unnecessary emotional turmoil they had to go through in the novel just to reach the exact same final state of mind. Because of this, he manages to achieve one of the greatest instances of happiness and freedom of any character. This does, however, inflict great anguish on Unk when the soldier comes to realize this after attempting to “rescue” Chrono and reunite with Beatrice as a family, weeping when his proposition of running away is met with the nonchalant phrase, “Can I go out and play batball now?” (Vonnegut 105).

When the family does end up on Titan, it is due to external control. However, Chrono manages to live a fulfilling existence by integrating within the Titanic bluebirds that exist on the moon. Though birds in general are symbols of freedom, the Titanic Bluebirds in particular are viewed within the book as a sign of unachievable happiness to most characters, such as when Salo “wished he were a Titanic bluebird” (Vonnegut 200), and looks upon them with longing after experiencing the pain of being cast off by Rumfoord.

Although Chrono’s fate was predetermined, the acceptance the boy had towards the nature of this transaction, a trait not apparent in how most other characters within the book approach free will, achieved him a much greater degree of freedom in comparison to characters such as Constant and Rumfoord. Through this, Vonnegut implies that the acceptance of one’s lack of free will allows them to live a more meaningful and “freer” existence, and that a preoccupation with regards to the subject does nothing to change the outcome of events.

Boaz

Vonnegut explores the idea of the possession and validity of power as it pertains to fate and free will through the character of Boaz, a fellow soldier within Unk’s barrack who, throughout the narrative, experiences the loss and acquisition of this to varying degrees. As one of the surreptitiously situated commanders of the Martian Army, Boaz is afforded advantages unheard of amongst his fellow comrades, with the distinguishing factor being the absence of a radio antenna in his head, an asset that is used to control the rest of the Martian Army. Much like Rumfoord, he is provided the privilege of having the illusion of free will. The irony in this is that Boaz can be perceived as the strongest and simultaneously weakest soldier in his division, as this awareness is somewhat paradoxical in the way that the characters’ denial of their lack of control over their own lives places them in a position of ignorance and inferiority in comparison to those who choose to accept or feel indifference to the notion that everything is predetermined, rendering the pursuit of free will to be an action that is paralyzing and fruitless to the individual.

Boaz’s stark transformation as Vonnegut moves onto the Mercury episode, a period in which both him and Unk are involuntarily transported to the depths of the small planet in accordance with Rumfoord’s plans, is also utilized as a commentary on power and destiny. Within the caves, Boaz and Unk encounter Harmoniums — simple creatures whose only function is to reproduce. Both the identity of the Harmoniums themselves, as well as Boaz’s interactions with them serve as a way to comment on the illusion of power. Harmoniums can be interpreted as a simplification of human society (Rose 18), with their homogenous nature, when being compared to mankind, implying that in the grand scheme of things all men are equal under the influences of fate, including figures like Rumfoord and Boaz. A similar ideology can be found through the analysis of how Boaz and Unk respond to the environment in Mercury, where the latter attacks former in a frenzied fit when Boaz attempts to distinguish one of the many Harmoniums from the rest of the population, stating “Ain’t he a cute little feller, Unk?” (Vonnegut 141). Unk’s attempted murder on Boaz for providing any inclination of favoritism towards one of the Harmoniums alludes to him physically “attacking” the idea that one man can exert more control over the facets of his own life in comparison to another.

Boaz receives his validity of power not within the army, but through his choice to remain on Mercury as caretaker for the Harmoniums. This is cast in an even deeper level of irony when one realizes that even this instance of power is provided to Boaz through an act of fate, as only Unk was destined to return to Earth, thus establishing that one’s possession of power does not always align with one’s possession of free will.

Salo

Salo, introduced by Vonnegut towards the end of the novel, is a physical manifestation of how the author uses irony in order to make commentary on the nature of mankind. Stranded on Titan due to mechanical issues related to his ship, Salo is forced to wait for aid in the form of a replacement part (Chrono’s good luck piece) that will eventually be delivered to him. The fictional planet of Tralfamadore, of which he originates, is a recurring place mentioned within Vonnegut books, with Sirens possessing the first ever mention of the setting. Though the planet is described within later novels such as Slaughterhouse-Five (Marvin 33), Trafalmadorians in Sirens are defined as tripedal creatures with skin the color of an Earthling tangerine. Special characteristics, such as the ability to walk on walls and perceive the entirety of the electromagnetic spectrum, are also brought up in conjunction with their physical appearance (Vonnegut 187).

Vonnegut’s attempt at meticulously building up the character of Salo to be as physically nonhuman as possible, combined with the mention that Salo is a machine, thus serving to perform the specific function of delivering a message on behalf of his species, creates a solidified impression of what Salo is within the reader’s mind — unfeeling; objective; efficient, hence constructing a preconceived notion of what Salo will be within the narrative. This completely unidirectional buildup of the character’s identity, much like with Constant and Rumfoord, is a technique Vonnegut takes advantage of in order to subvert the paradigm and make a statement later. Throughout the 200,000 years on Titan, he befriends Rumfoord and develops a very humanlike attachment towards him, even calling him by the nickname “Skip,” and lending his Tralfamadorian technology in order to assist Rumfoord’s Martian invasion. Salo, the supposedly unsympathetic robot, dedicates his time into trying to be what he believes to be “true friend”. Thus, it is heartbreaking and immensely ironic that the human character of Rumfoord meets Salo with utter indifference and even opposition to the idea of friendship, discarding the Trafalmadorian without empathy, and even having the audacity to use the word “machine” as insult to the extraterrestrial, when he himself is the apathetic one. Salo is the most human character in the book (Schatt 36), being able to process and express a myriad of emotions not demonstrated by any others. He realizes himself in the novel the extent to which he has defied his identity, melancholically monologuing:

“‘The machine is no longer a machine . . . The machine’s contacts are corroded, his bearings fouled, his circuits shorted, and his gears stripped. His mind buzzes and pops like the mind of an Earthling — fizzes and overheats with thoughts of love, honor, dignity, rights, accomplishment, integrity, independence — ’” (Vonnegut 210).

Vonnegut’s decision to have Salo announce this with such poeticism further adds to the sense of “humanness” that has overcome his identity. Though he takes his own life right after this — the ultimate display of mortality, he is reassembled by Constant. A show of disregard for his decision to end his “life” and a defiance of his free will, Salo still has the decency to return the now seventy-four year old back to Indianapolis on Earth to die. The final exchange of dialogue he has with Constant is a succinct conglomerate of the journey he has been through in regards to defining his identity:

“‘Good luck,’ whispered Salo.

‘We don’t say that down here,’ whispered Constant.

Salo winked. ‘I’m not from down here,’ he whispered” (Vonnegut 222).

Though the concept of luck no longer exists to men on earth due to Rumfoord’s establishment of the “Church of God the Utterly Indifferent,” Salo still rejects the belief that ultimately defines and unites mankind in the novel in favor of the one he still retains as a Trafalmadorian — that fate, god, and luck all intervene within man’s destiny, and free will is an illusion men retain in an attempt to feel secure within their lives.

Conclusion

The remarkable nature of how Vonnegut manages to manipulate even his most seemingly insignificant characters into distinct thematic symbols speaks to the layers of analysis within the novel. The versatility of the author’s use of irony, expressed through character comparisons, progression, and the manner in which they interact with their identities, yields a final, all-encompassing message communicated to the reader: that determinations of fate and free will are a matter of perspective, and one is able to live a most fulfilling existence choosing to accept that these are nothing more than natural phenomena. Ironically, this message simultaneously favors the notions of fate and free will, indicating that neither bears more weight in a man’s life than the other. The idea of letting life run its course and living in ignorance is very much in support of the former, as it fully acknowledges the lack of choice one has, and allows man to fully surrender to the tendrils of fate. However, one’s possession of the ability to choose to accept the notion that fate and free will are insignificant is a manner of taking control of how one’s life is lived, thus embodying the complete values of the latter.

Bibliography

Allen, William Richard. “The Sirens of Titan.” Understanding Kurt Vonnegut, Univ. of South Carolina Pr., Columbia, South Carolina, 1991, pp. 35–43.

Hume, Kathryn. “Vonnegut’s Self-Projections: Symbolic Characters and Symbolic Fiction.” Journal of Narrative Theory, vol. 12, no. 3, 1982, p. 177.

Leeds, Marc. The Vonnegut Encyclopedia. Delacorte Press, 2016.

Marvin, Thomas F. Kurt Vonnegut: A Critical Companion. Greenwood, 2002.

Mustazza, Leonard, and Ellen Cronan Rose. “It’s All a Joke: Science Fiction in Kurt Vonnegut’s The Sirens of Titan.” The Critical Response to Kurt Vonnegut, Greenwood Press, Westport, CT, 1994, pp. 15–23.

Schatt, Stanley. “Of Man and Machines: Player Piano and The Sirens of Titan.” Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.., Twayne Publishers, Boston, Massachusetts, 1976, pp. 30–42.

Vonnegut, Kurt, and Suzanne McConnell. Pity the Reader: On Writing with Style. RosettaBooks, 2019.

Vonnegut, Kurt. The Sirens of Titan. Gollancz, 2004.