Catch-22 (1961)

by Joseph Heller

Having seen none of its dramatic adaptations I understand completely why this story has been given the royal treatment by Hollywood and Broadway on the big screen, little screen, and theater stage. The characters are narcissistic, womanizing, and irreverent and the dialogue consists solely of fast-paced quips. Characters talk past each other and barely leave enough room between sentences to breathe let alone listen to what the other person is saying or react emotionally to it. Yossarian and his ilk act exactly how the rich and famous of the entertainment industry like to think they’d act in war.

Sure, there is some meaning tucked around. The purposelessness and absurdity of war where unspoiled youth are sent to their deaths by callous and impersonal command structures. The odiousness of profiteering as personified by Milo and his syndicate. The misaligned incentives of our society where an individual acting in his own local best interest is often working against the higher goal he proclaims to be fighting for.

For me these abstract insights did not make up for what seemed to be an intentionally bewildering novel. I laughed frequently but for the most part was not compelled by the characters, style, or [incoherent] narrative. Catch-22 is wry and witty but 150 pages too long for a one-trick book without a plot.

People seem to love this one and I’m left wondering if there were any saving graces within that flew under my radar or over my head.