In 1968, the year I wrote Slaughterhouse Five, I finally became grown up enough to write about the bombing of Dresden. It was the largest massacre in European history. I, of course, know about Auschwitz, but a massacre is something that happens suddenly, the killing of a whole lot of people in a very short time. In Dresden, on February 13, 1945, about 135,000 people were killed by British firebombing in one night. It was pure nonsense, pointless destruction. The whole city was burned down, and it was a British atrocity, not ours. They sent in night bombers, and they came in and set the whole town on fire with a new kind of incendiary bomb. And so everything organic, except my little PoW group, was consumed by fire. It was a military experiment to find out if you could burn down a whole city by scattering incendiaries over it. Kurt Vonnegut's 1968 novel Slaughter-house Five is an essential part of the literature of the bombing of Dresden. In his new book A Man Without a Country: A
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One commenter said to NL, "You're more full of shit than an overflowing septic tank", and didn't stop there. I express myself rather differently, but this past year I decided to go after Lebrecht, just a matter of speaking truth to power. I had enough and I can be relentless. You can bet I will be relentless when such as Lebrecht daily inflict damage on an art close to my heart since I was five, which makes six decades. I don't think I'll be on the coming Honours List, but much, much better, he banned me. I'm honoured but a trifle baffled, for there is a horde of other commenters who go after him regularly and, as above, not with the formality of language and argument I'm accustomed to using. I think he said I am "spammed out" (which suggests he doesn't have a clue what that term means) because I did indeed do what I say above -- over a period of time, I let no unmitigated piffle pass without a corrective and a statement of just what is going on here.
Yet it makes no difference. I just about wigged out when he wrote a few days ago that he'd been working with an orchestra on a Mahler symphony! Anyone who's read his book on Mahler will know what I'm talking about. How does this happen? Power, the power of a freelance writer, some of whom are very good, but others hardly so because they make their income by writing anything whatsoever and, like the tabloid papers, cultivating contacts who co-operate in return for guaranteed coverage always positive. I do believe this is what is termed a 'hack'. Another egregious example is Duchen's interviews cum restaurant reviews in Amati Magazine. Oh the sycophancy! If the world had not gone insane these past few years, the era of post-education, NL might now be well-placed as music critic of the Daily Mirror or News of the World. At the heart of this comment is the observation that freelance writers are a large part of the general problem. Almost anything Lebrecht or Duchen, et al, write has a quid pro quo behind it. Thence comes their network of contacts, the real source of their power, and I'm damned if I know what to do about it. I am happy I got banned though -- a pretty sure indication my comments were hitting home, even if to no avail.