‘Haunted’ by Chuck Palahniuk
Haunted is the seventh novel brought to us by Chuck Palahniuk, perhaps best known for his staggeringly successful debut Fight Club, which was adapted into what has since become a cult film by director David Fincher. There are even whispers that Palahniuk and Fincher are collaborating with Trent Reznor of industrial rockers Nine Inch Nails in a bid to bring the tale of Tyler Durden to Broadway, and who wouldn't want to see that? Already I can hear an upbeat chorus of 'HIS NAME IS ROBERT PAULSON!' reverberating within the spongey walls of my brain. Apologies for the only slightly relevant digression, back to Haunted we go...
For me, Haunted is something of a slow starter; while Palahniuk's prose is precise and razor sharp throughout, in my opinion the most memorable stories - the novel is made up of twenty-three - are to be found within the latter half of the text. This is something of a generalisation, however, as the very first story, Guts, is one that many readers, myself included, will likely have great difficulty trying to forget. The simply yet aptly named Guts is the tale of a character named Saint Gut-Free, an unusually skinny fellow who loses part of his small intestine in an unfortunate swimming pool-masturbation accident. Speaking as somebody who has an abnormally strong stomach/gag reflex, it is truly nauseating stuff, and I imagine it will be doubly so for male readers. In his hilarious afterword, Palahniuk reminisces upon the number of people who fainted whilst listening to readings of Guts in bookstores from Berkeley to Bologna.
Aside from Guts, the first part of the book is arguably weaker, though more in terms of content and characterisation than the writing itself, which is uniformly excellent; thought provoking and horrifying all in the space of one short phrase. I can feel Palahniuk hitting his stride further towards the end of the novel, and my three favourite stories, Dissertation, Cassandra, and Obsolete, can all be found after page 296. I do not mean to impugn any of the earlier vignettes in any way, however these tales, in my opinion, showcase Palahniuk at his very best - where there is blood, carnage and death there is also a healthy dose of heart. It is not nihilism purely for nihilism's sake, there is meaning behind the macabre.
Overall, Haunted is a peerless piece of writing. It certainly is not for the faint of heart (or the weak of stomach, for that matter), but for those who enjoy Bret Easton Ellis or Don DeLillo, and those who like their humour to be as black as it can be, the novel is a treasure trove of gruesomeness. When compared to Fight Club or his 2001 novel Choke this may not be Palahniuk's magnum opus, but what it is is a compelling and fiendishly entertaining orgy of a book, and essential reading for Palahniuk fans.
This piece was originally published on alisonlaurabell.tumblr.com in October 2011.