Call me Jonah. My parents did, or nearly did. They called me John.

Jonah John if I had been a Sam, I would have been a Jonah still not because
I have been unlucky for others, but because somebody or something has compelled me to
be certain places at certain times, without fail. Conveyances and motives, both
conventional and bizarre, have been provided. And, according to plan, at each appointed
second, at each appointed place, this Jonah was there.
Listen:
When I was younger two wives ago, 250,000 cigarettes ago, 3,000 quartz of
booze ago
When I was a much younger man, I began to collect material for a book called
The Day the World Ended.
The book was to be factual.
The book was to be an account of what important Americans had done on the day
the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Japan.
It was to be a Christian book. I was a Christian then.
I am a Bokononist now.
I would have been a Bokononist then, if there have been anyone to teach me the
bittersweet lies of Bokonon. But Bokononism was unknown beyond the gravel beaches
and coral knives that ring this little island in the Caribbean Sea, the Republic of San
Lorenzo.
We Bokononists believe that humanity is organized into teams, teams that do
Gods Will without ever discovering what they are doing. Such a team is called a karass
by Bokonon, and the instrument, the can-can, that brought me into my own particular
karass was the book I never finished, the book to be called The Day the World Ended1

Kurt Vonnegut, Cats Cradle, Dial Press Trade Paperback, New York, page 1

The fragment taken into consideration is the beginning of Vonneguts best selling
novel Cats Cradle where the author gives an alternative history for the events
following the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. To give a realistic portrayal of the events,
the author often quotes books and the specific resources which aided him in his quest for
truth and integrity.
Throughout the entire text of the novel, the maxim of quantity is flouted for not
even the author knows whether what he says is true or not. He constantly mends his
mistakes through references to the fact the truth only became clear late after he wrote a
second draft to his book.
Although he respects one of the rules of the maxim of manner by being brief, he
ignores the other through obscurity of expression and ambiguity. Drawing our attention to
what is going to be narrated - Listen - he gives us a strange unit of measurement for the
time passed: two wives ago, 250,000 cigarettes ago, 3,000 quartz of booze ago.
In order to obtain the artistic spark which gives flavor to all of his novels,
Vonnegut breaks the maxim of relation by giving a piece of useless information,
deviating from the topic, but restrains himself before going to far.
He uses three sentences only to introduce himself. And not even after this, the
reader is not really convinced of his exact name. The amount of words exceeds the
quantity of information thusly bending the maxim of quantity by saying both too much
and too little at the same time.
The fragment seems to lack consistency. Some words are repeated and almost
gain the status of chorus (e.g.: When I was young, the book was) and now the maxim
of quantity is once again broken and the one of relevance as well. This is because it
seems the narrator drifts into his one uncensored thoughts and tries to reach out to the
reader and persuade him of his honesty.