- Choke
- by Chuck Palahniuk
- Doubleday, 2001
- 256 pages
- Review by Chris Switzer
Two good things
happened as a result of meeting with Chuck Palahniuk in April for
the turtleneck. net interview:
One: Because Chuck and I ate breakfast
together, we are now friends (despite what he might say), and because
Chuck is friends with Brad Pitt, that means that I’m friends with
Brad Pitt, because any friend of Chuck’s is a friend of mine.
Two: I now understand what Chuck
was getting at with Choke,
because I was admittedly puzzled about it before. Puzzled enough
to tell Chuck that I didn’t feel that Choke
was his strongest novel (Hey, friends always tell each other how
it is, regardless of celebrity status).
Puzzled, but not disappointed.
You see, when first I read Choke,
I was admittedly envious: That hilarious narrative, that minimalist
staccato style, those pathetic but oh-so-identifiable characters.
How the hell does he do it, and why can’t I?
Then I started picking out the
flaws: Parts of the narrative are written in 2nd person,
and inconsistently to boot. Was Chuck raised in the grammatical
equivalent of a barn?
Then I looked at the bigger picture:
Shit, there’s something profound happening here. . .
I just didn’t know what it was.
I’ve always considered a good
novel to be one that stays in your memory long afterward, sparking
thought, inner discussion, and Freudian analysis. In that respect,
Choke
is a damn fine novel.
The good thing about Choke
is that it’s the same old Chuck; it has something to offend everyone.
Another good thing about Choke
is that it’s not the same old
Chuck. This novel is a transition from Chuck’s traditional nihilism
to something more hopeful and positive. Yes, the style is the same,
but the content is markedly different. There aren’t any plane crashes
in Choke.
No houses catch on fire, no credit card corporations are blown up.
Choke
is just the simple story of a pathetic man, Victor Mancini, who’s
addicted to sex: hand jobs, simulated rape, objects inserted into
the anus, and of course, good old-fashioned intercourse. Our society
likes to believe that sex should be used only as a tool for procreation
and/or for bringing two people who love each other closer together.
Choke shows us the gritty truth;
Largely unerotic, the paint-by-numbers act of sex seems to drive
Victor away from women instead of bringing him closer to them, and
vice versa.
|
