Player Piano is Kurt Vonnegut's first novel, on the theme of technology overriding humanity. It is a dystopia but one that correctly captures the evolution of automatization and increasing control of machines over men, so it remains of burning actuality.
The book explores the idea of a society ruled by scientists, where PhDs are in control and constitute the upper layer of society. This makes it explore the theme of Noocracy (or, in a more modern setting, Geniocracy) with the conclusion that humanity, more than rationality, should be the motor of our lives and society. And that intelligent people might actually be worse to conduct human affairs than corrupt and inept politicians. Indeed, as a result of this scientific and optimized structure of society, a large portion of it consists of idle people left with nothing to do but live an empty life, provided for but still empty. In effect, the choice is between the Army or the so-called "Reconstruction and Reclamation Corps", also known as the "Reeks and Wrecks", employed to due menial, useless or merely time-killing jobs. This makes for a major theme of the book: living as an elite in a society where the majority is abandoned to its misery. A recurring issue is the transfer of some people from one class to the other, illustrated with the case of one of the PhDs who turns out to have failed an irrelevant test a long time ago, but which was necessary to validate his title, resulting in his eventual demise. The coldness and blindness of machines to accommodate all sorts of situations that a human being would settle right away, is another recurring theme. As its companion theme, one finds the question of what's the worth of a human being who has itself no use whatsoever to society. Even if society is disposed to provide a place for them, those thus recognized will not accept it and will resent themselves.
In parallel to the main line of the story, a rich Arabic ruler—the Shah of Bratpuhr—explores this society and also wonders at its purpose and merits. This brings the theme of paternalism and how less-developed societies might, in some respect, still prove superior to us. Other themes include resistance and religion. It endows us with a responsibility that goes beyond everything that is, to depend instead on everything we are:
The choice of one course or the other had nothing to do with machines, hierarchies, economics, love, age. It was a purely internal matter. Every child older than six knew the fork, and knew what the good guys did here, and what the bad guys did here. The fork was a familiar one in folk tales the world over, and the good guys and the bad guys, whether in chaps, breechclouts, serapes, leopardskins, or banker’s gray pinstripes, all separated here.
Bad guys turned informer. Good guys didn’t—no matter when, no matter what.
Kroner cleared his throat. “I said, ‘who’s their leader, Paul?’”
“I am,” said Paul. “And I wish to God I were a better one.”
Already in his debut novel, Vonnegut is putting man at the centre, «no matter when, no matter what.» No excuse not to do the right thing, till the end.
The prose is not yet fully developed into Vonnegut's very own personal type, which he will have achieved already with The sirens of Titan. The book actually reads more like an Anthony Burgess novel. That also makes it, for this very reason, exceptionally good.