Joy (cithra) wrote,

Chuck Palahniuk, the visceral minimalist

uly and I attended the Chuck Palahniuk reading last night. He is touring for his latest book, Haunted, of which I bought a copy at the reading - and of which I read the first story while waiting for the "event" to start.

I think I am getting old. Or a side effect of the antidepressants working and being less depressed is being more sensitive to the viscera of human extremity. Or having several yards of my gut re-routed has made me more prone to idea-induced nausea. But I had kind of a hard time at the reading, and am actually wondering if I should keep reading Haunted.

I am a huge fan of Palahniuk's writing, but I also find it really effective. The story he read last night, "Hot Potting," made me want to curl up in a ball and cry (preferably in someone's arms, for safety). Ok, makes, when I fail to avoid thinking about it. The story I read last night while waiting was full of stupid masturbation tricks - people doing things that turn out to be horribly physically injurious, or terribly embarrassing, or both. The pivotal incident really made me feel ill.

So I'm glad I went to the reading, and even that I bought the book. But I'm starting to wonder if I will be able to finish reading it. I guess we'll see.

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