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September 2008 (PDF) - Antigravity Magazine

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REVIEWSBOOKS<br />

CHUCK<br />

PALAHNIUK<br />

SNUFF<br />

(DOUBLEDAY)<br />

Chuck Palahniuk once again delves into the<br />

underbelly of modern America with Snuff. A tale<br />

about a record-breaking gang bang gone slightly awry,<br />

Snuff is grimy, sticky and full of the style and wit that<br />

has made Palahniuk both popular and the subject of<br />

criticism. Like his previous novel, Rant, Snuff is told from<br />

multiple, subjective perspectives: the talent wrangler<br />

Sheila and Misters 600, 137 and 72, all waiting for<br />

their turn with the porn starlet Cassie Wright and each<br />

harboring a secret motivation. Palahniuk loves to cut open society and expose some<br />

of the damper sides of life. Here, he takes us into the world of factory porno, a seedy<br />

sex mill powered by diminished expectations and Astroglide. Though the novel never<br />

plants a morality flag, each character’s life outside of the porn film is so heavy with<br />

defilement and quiet perversions that the film shoot substitutes for everyday society.<br />

Like all of Palahniuk’s previous work, each character is more than a little disgusting,<br />

hides secret shames, engages in peculiar and most times offensive behaviors, etc... The<br />

joy in reading his novels is wallowing in the cesspool his vivid and uncensored prose<br />

provides—no other current author can so horrendously pinpoint the feel of a porno set<br />

so the tacky surfaces and stale smells are almost tangible. And if finely rendered detail<br />

is Chuck Palahniuk’s ace in the hole, then his repetitive style is his biggest detriment.<br />

Once again, each character has hordes of obscure knowledge that is doled out to the<br />

reader in small bites—a device that once felt fresh but now is little more than a parlor<br />

trick. We’re again taken on a narrative journey that gives us a twist, only in Snuff the<br />

twists are evident from a mile away and the ultimate resolution is both muddled by<br />

the unclear narrative structure of the book and in turn is completely unsatisfactory.<br />

With Rant, the storylines converged and then split again into unresolved endings—a<br />

fresh idea, but here the ending is simply blasé, offering no satisfaction. Ultimately, for<br />

fans of Palahniuk’s work Snuff is a minor entry in the catalogue—certainly not his best<br />

work, but laden with enough skin crawling and gut churning imagery to make up for<br />

its bleak and rushed climax. —Mike Rodgers<br />

antigravitymagazine.com_27

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