HIS latest novel, Chuck Palahniuk serves up a portion of
signature satire on yuppie America's pretensions of safety,
the emasculation of modern man and the joy of blowing things
Survivor and Fight Club.
loser-saviour this time is one Victor Mancini, a medical
school dropout and sex addict who has to pay for his anarchist
mother's elder care.
do this, he chokes himself in restaurants nightly - creating
heroes out of plebeian bystanders, gaining sympathy and
cash donations in the process.
he may be the genetic clone of one really famous dead person.
he weren't such a crackingly good writer, Palahniuk's fictional
formula of outrageous situations, unlikely messiahs and
anarchy - which he pioneered in Fight Club - would
have worn thin by now.
Choke, his fourth novel, manages to deliver the
requisite dose of the right stuff to keep fans hooked: Wise-ass
one-liners laced with genuine insight, jet-black humour,
and more fun facts than you can shake a stick at (how to
do a tracheotomy with a fork; the best jet planes for mile-high
hanky-panky). It's Palahniuk's most sexually explicit book
novel's basic theme of folks choking on the past instead
of creating their future plays out as a series of well-penned,
camera- ready set pieces: From the recursive loops of sex
addiction to a fascist theme-park reconstruction of 18th-century
novel's atypically upbeat ending could be a downer for fans
looking for a Gothic curtain call.
the ride's irresistible. Don't swallow it all at once.