“One peculiar feature of our relationship (whatever in hell that is) is that you are the one person in this world to whom I like to write.” These words were written by Kurt Vonnegut, the renowned composer of bizarre tales, to his friend and sweetheart Jane Cox, who would later become his first wife. Their daughter, Edith, discovered a cache of his letters in a box in the attic, a story worthy of Vonnegut himself, and presents them to a new generation. 

"LOVE, KURT is a remarkable collection. Edith Vonnegut deserves thanks for bringing it to light... Little to no incentive will be required to get it in the hands of Vonnegut’s established fan base."

To the true satisfaction of fans of the beloved wordsmith, Kurt’s 200-plus letters (and two from Jane), written at a seminal period in our nation’s history, are offered here in photographic form. Their courtship began in college, where Jane was excelling and Kurt was failing (chemistry clearly was not his best subject). His missives follow the couple from a youthful crush to a grown-up love affair that began at a country club social in August 1941.

Months later, America was at war, and Kurt, though opposed to war, felt that he must help his country to win. He was deployed to Europe in time for the Battle of the Bulge, witnessed the destruction of Dresden, and then was taken prisoner by the Germans, working near a slaughterhouse. His readers will recognize the path by which these events would later seep into his ironically humorous, widely acclaimed novels.  

The letters strongly demonstrate Kurt’s early promise. Youthful, loving, creative, poetic and at times hilarious, they include drawings and numerous graphics; some are typewritten, while others are scrawled dutifully by hand. Addressing Jane by her nickname “Woofy,” he bestows such flirtatious quips as “Sorry, can’t afford lingerie. You’ll just have to go naked for the first few years.” Though there is little indication of it since we have mainly Kurt’s thoughts and aspirations, it is clear from Edith’s contributions that her mother, the young Jane, was his first inspiration and, as his wife, his loyal secretary and booster. 

LOVE, KURT is a remarkable collection. Edith Vonnegut deserves thanks for bringing it to light (much as her mother did when she modestly promoted Kurt’s undeniable talents). Little to no incentive will be required to get it in the hands of Kurt Vonnegut’s established fan base. It also may serve to introduce others to his novels by attracting lovers of history, romance and the classic epistolary style.