I used to consider myself a HUGE Palahniuk fan. He used to be the only author I would blab about during high school and early college career. I would do such things as order inscribed books when they would be available, and have received a few as gifts. Chuck went as far as to draw me birthday balloons in one of them! To receive one used to be the best feeling in the world.
That being said, Snuff was HORRIBLE to me. His second worst next to Diary.
That also being said, I bought Pygmy the day it came out. Since I have been a loyal fan for so long, I figured I would give it a shot. People cannot always write a hit every time, and I will be the first to admit that Palahniuk isn’t the best writer in the world (as noted above), but he is just damn entertaining and charming.
That also also being said, I put it down after getting to Chapter Three. It made me want to throw it across the room during the first chapter due to the difficult writing style, but I got the hang of it after reading the first page at least twenty times in a row. It became not a difficulty of form anymore, but of content. I hope it’s a mood thing, because I am afraid that I might be growing out of the Palahniuk worship I once had. I hope not, because in some way reading his books serves as some sort of comfort for me. A big, campy, outrageous, hysterical comfort.
So, I know I’ve proclaimed myself as a Palahniuk fanatic in the past, but I feel like this is necessary. I’ve had different feelings about different books by Palahniuk. I watched Fight Club…
-
r-rabbit reblogged this from theprocrastinator and added:
just realized! I am quite stupid. I clicked...re-blog icon, but didn’t even think
-
theprocrastinator reblogged this from r-rabbit and added:
say you should totally copy...an actual comment on...blog...
-
theprocrastinator posted this
