This is the third book by Vonnegut that I've read (fourth if you count Man Without a Country), and it seems like every book I read by him makes me want to read more of his work.

I don't know that I can accurately describe what makes this so interesting (just like Rabo Karebekian can't or won't describe for most of the novel what he's keeping in the padlocked potato barn), but I know that I didn't want to put it down. I could feel that the plot was slowly, subtly, taking us to a specific destination and the last few chapters provides a catharsis for reader and narrator alike, though not in a way that I expected.

For anyone interested in the arts, or critical of them and their place-- or really anyone who likes a novel that will lurk around your brain days after you finish reading it, I highly recommend Bluebeard.