Kurt Vonnegut, RIP

Slaughterhouse-Five is one of the great anti-war novels, maybe the best in American literature. My eighth grade English teacher used the book to teach World War II to us Catholic school girls, which seems smartly subversive to me now. I need to find a copy and re-read it.
It begins like this:

Listen: Billy Pilgrim has become unstuck in time.

Then it tells about Billy's serving in World War II and surviving the bombing of Dresden; his postwar life in the suburbs; his capture by aliens and being taken to another planet.
After reading that book, I went ahead and read all the rest of his books before I graduated high school; I loved them. He was the first adult author who I read pretty much all of his work. The obits (read the NYT one here) have been mentioning Cat's Cradle and God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater as his major works, but I always preferred Breakfast of Champions, which has sly illustrations of human anatomy and features the trials of his alter-ego, science fiction writer named Kilgore Trout.
Later in life, Vonnegut defended civil liberties and librarians.
Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday. So it goes.