Palahniuk's books are like dangerously wild individuals from the same family. They all have their own quirks and twitches, but you can see the resemblance.
Many reviewers of Palahniuk (especially those here) try to judge his writing in comparative terms. ("not as good as Fight Club" or "better than Choke") Palahniuk is, unfortunately, a victim of his own skill, because although his texts are...
more Palahniuk's books are like dangerously wild individuals from the same family. They all have their own quirks and twitches, but you can see the resemblance.
Many reviewers of Palahniuk (especially those here) try to judge his writing in comparative terms. ("not as good as Fight Club" or "better than Choke") Palahniuk is, unfortunately, a victim of his own skill, because although his texts are certainly their own stories, they do have remarkably similar tones (e.g. he sprinkles his text with odd/unusual facts as a backdrop for the odd/unusual action). As a result, they polarize the audience quite well. Like one book, and you're likely to enjoy them all.
That having been said, let me add my own opinion to the mix: this book is Chuck's best to date (note: I haven't read Diary).
All of his books are, to some extent, about identity crises. In this case, it is the identity crisis of ex-model Shannon, whose jaw is blown off in an unusual auto accident. She goes on a soul-quest of sorts with transgendered queen Brandy, and a few other people with similarly odd problems. What follows is a tangled, twisted, and tantalizing tale of drugs, sex, love, loss, and hope.
This time, the style of the book is tailored after movie-esqe terms (like "flash forward" and "jump cut"), giving the text a cinematic quality that works well with the subject matter (it also, for you literature fans, makes for a far more subtle metaphor than you'd expect). The flashbacks and the dialogue and the incidents with Shannon's parents and modeling peers are all as well-crafted as an insightful and hilariously filmed movie scene.
Some of the reviewers here complain about the "soap opera" quality of the book, to which I say, "go read the funny pages." There are, true, melodramatic moments, but they are well-honed, well-placed, and, by God, necessary. The story's many threads tie together neatly and superbly by the film's violent and firey conclusion, and true to Chuck's form (with the exception of Choke), not a word of the book is extraneous or unnecessary.
Other people complain that the novel doesn't answer the question it poses, nor does it rise above the subject matter it scorns. Although I will concede that these statements are half-true, they are simply part of Palahniuk's form, and for his audience, part of his charm. If you want someone to deliver polite and pat answers, then read, I don't know, Danielle Steel.
Besides, Palahniuk does offer solutions--he just makes you search for them, makes you assemble them on your own. Neither does he treat his subject matter with wishy-washy ambivalence, but with unflinching honesty and realism (although reading this book, you may find it hard to compare it to any kind of reality with which you're familiar). His spare, brutal, and beautiful writing clarifies the brutal and beautiful nature of his story.
So, if you want bite-sized literature with a sweet moral center, go somewhere else. This book is candy, sure, but it's the kind that gets all over you.
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