Write a review for a Palahniuk novel is like trying to convey the words of some stunning, yet bitter and astringent taste. It’s just impossible to convey. It is impossible to explain all its charm to those who have not felt this taste in my mouth. It’s like a lemon, sugar to eat: pretty damn sweet, as much cringe, but not off, not off! But let’s get away from gastronomy comparisons worthless they too carried away.
Back to literature, namely to Palahniuk. His books I always enjoy. Between readings of his novels, I try to do big breaks, so as not to overdose, but at least one book a year is for me, perhaps a mandatory norm. After all, Palahniuk novels is a scathing slap in the face, the throat is the smoke filled air burns my lungs. This is what is sometimes unbearable needs a brain. From time to time I want to read books with a good ending, a kind of “candy history”, warming the cool of the evening heart and giving hope to a large and bright love. Similarly, from time to time I would like to read and literature, in which the “candy” not at all, reveal the vices of modern society, and the reader, no less, dip face in the shit. Cleansing through the dirt? Self-destruction instead of self-improvement? Somewhere we already heard it, right?
The book “Haunted” is the story of a group of people bound together. A group of people, totally different, but so similar to each other, is trapped in the same house. In good faith, please note. Each of this group gave voluntary consent to this confinement for three months, to forget about normal, everyday life. But as soon as all doors are closed and people realize that there is no escape and soon dawn begins to panic. How to live? How can you live in a gated house? Without walking? Without communication and all that? How not to go crazy with the fact that you have so much time to spend with yourself? In the novel there is no clear, structured plot. The reader tell about how the situation in the house, we along with the characters plunge into their “heroic” past and learn such an interesting and controversial history that the simple eyes on the forehead climb at some points. The entire history, in fact, again about the self-destruction.
This time, however, not personal and more global. About how people destroy their lives, destroy everything around, because this craving is too strong. We create our own demons, the Devil. Invent tragedy, to diversify life. For example, I remember as a kid all the time to invent some stories about their own past. Without direct any of the gloomy tragedies, but still… such a sad, tragic.
And all this in order to appease other people when they have occurred some shit. Like: “Hey, I’ve also had a similar situation and as you can see, I’m still alive and enjoy life”. Yes, we all make up the tragedy. Seriously, seventy percent (if not more) from my problems in life, man himself creates. Without self-destruction self-improvement. Self-destruction as the goal. And here I have some more to destroy himself inconsolable conclusion: I don’t know how to write book reviews Palahniuk.
What’s there to be honest, I do write a terrible review, in which thoughts do not line up in straight carload structure, and run anywhere and in any way, absolutely not respecting rules of the road. But Palahniuk does not work. And I think it’s better to read his books than reviews of his books. Sense will definitely be more. After the review, as such, emotions can not cause, but the novels Palahniuk will either delight you, or after reading you will want to rethink my life again.