Haunted
by Chuck Palahniuk
Anchor, 2006http://www.chuckpalahniuk.net/
"What's Grosser Than Gross": The Book
Writers Retreat. Most writers, perhaps, but not Chuck Palahniuk: this author is not afraid to dive right into what frightens and disgusts him. If what he writes does not venture into an extreme place that shocks him (Palahniuk related to the mighty Rick Kleffel in their 2005 interview) then it's a been waste of his time.
That notion is worth its weight in whiskey, but I believe Chuckie just gets off by seeing how many people he can make puke or pass out at his readings. Masterbatory disembowelment, incest, concentration camps, people living long enough to run their legs off away from the thermal spring that boiled them alive, rape galore, plagues, weird diseases, kinky sex, mutilation, graphic descriptions of human starvation and decomposition, monsters, government conspiracies, canibalism... Haunted contains 'em all. Jimbob Joyce turned a joke about an Irish death rite into Finnegan's Wake. Palahniuk's trying to do the same thing here with a succession of those schoolyard "what's grosser than gross" howlers.
If anyone could pull this off, it's Fight Club author Chuck Palahniuk. The man is a good depth finder for "what is it possible to do with the English language?" Haunted has a structure that runs something like this: fifteen technicolor chracters answer an advertizement for a Writers Retreat, winding up locked by its two organizers inside a sprawling old theater building without heat or food. There, each introduced by a poem, they tell the stories of why each chose to "abandon your life for three months".
These short stories are full of flavor, well-researched and incredibly original. (Plus, of course, grosser than gross.) Bigfoot never being caught or found dead because this the race are werewolves! Turning back into the human form... a form that a dumb anthropologist might just dig too far for when chatting up a hairy Indian in a bar. Cities stalked by an invisible giant killer who strikes each evening at twilight! A killer that may in fact be a hurtling bowling ball. Reflexologist assassains. Artists who sneak their own work up onto gallery walls. The fate of Marilyn Monroe's miscarried baby. Officefuls of pedophile Child Protection workers. One of the best selections, "Slumming," is available on Random House's flash promo site. Highly recommended.
As with any short story collection, some tales are stronger than others. Even the weakest, though- a fan letter from a serial-killing chef to the company that manufactures his knives- is decent enough. I had better not say anything negative about it, though, because this psycho's victims are critics who have written him bad reviews.
The wrap-around story, intended to mirror Lord Byron and Mary Shelley's doings at the Villa Diodati, just sucks: it's implausible, occasionally pretentious, goes too far and then ultimately nowhere. Treat it like the layer of dead flies and rotten fruit atop a toiletbowl of prison cell sangria. Skim it away and enjoy the twenty-three tasty Triple-X treats below- intoxicating, but with an unmistakable tang of vomit and chocolate dookie.
Critical Mick says: composed of rotting human flesh and fabric softener, Haunted amounts to more than Big-Brother-Meets-the-movie-Saw. For cast-iron stomaches who can make it past the first story without fainting or hurling, there waits some of the most imaginative, intersting writing I have come across.
If Critical Mick is found stabbed to death with chef's knives, drag Chuck Palahniuk in for questioning.
|
