Unlike the other Vonnegut novels that I have read, "Hocus Pocus" seems to come dangerously close to biting off more than it can chew -- and for the first half of the book it does. It takes a full hundred-and-fifty pages or so for Vonnegut to get a handle on all of the disparate themes that have crammed their way into this novel: racial strife, economic strife, the state of education in America, the follies of elitism, the de-humanizing effects of war (a Vonnegut favorite), love, sex, marriage, alcoholism, pride, honor, television, genetics and heredity, the outsourcing of American businesses, prison overcrowding, cultural identity ... believe it or not, I could go on. "Hocus Pocus" is too much of a hodge-podge, and it doesn't seem to know what it is trying to say or where it is drawing your attention at first. Thank goodness the second half of the book is a marked improvement. It actually ends up being enjoyable and says a lot of intelligent (if typically Vonnegut) things.
Still, there are some other problems with "HP" that could potentially turn a reader off -- particularly if they are not accustomed to Vonnegut's unique brand of storytelling. Eugene Debs Hartke is not a compelling Vonnegut protagonist; he has the quirky personality, the jaded outlook that comes with experience and the moral ambiguity, but he is surprisingly boring when you consider that he's an ex-soldier renowned for his deft and brutal technique, a sex addict and married to an insane woman to boot. He just doesn't resonate the way a Billy Pilgrim, Kilgore Trout (who makes a sort-of appearance here when one of his short stories turns up, for all you tried and true Vonnegut fans out there), or Howard W. Campbell, Jr. do in their respective stories. And the main themes that Vonnegut is expounding here have been done better elsewhere in his ouevre.
God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater tackled elitism and greed in a more resonant way,
Slaughterhouse-Five dealt with war in a more profound story,
Mother Night also features a protagonist literally on trial for his moral ambiguity but delved deeper, and the deliciously madcap
Breakfast of Champions is a freight train to disaster that is much more compelling than "HP"'s central prison break.
Having said that, Vonnegut devotees like myself will undoubtedly enjoy this novel anyway -- particularly the last half. But for anyone who is not already enchanted by Vonnegut's quirks as a novelist would do better to start elsewhere (I'd suggest checking out one of the novels I just mentioned in the last paragraph instead).
Grade: B- (but give it a C if you aren't already a Vonnegut fan)