In a word..RAW

For those familiar with Chuck's writing, Fight Club in particular, a story about Vincent Mancini, a sexaholic who seeks the meaning of his institutionalized mother's diary while jousting with his demented sidekick Denny, its obtuse as are most of his stories. I found it difficult not to think of the Big Lebowski, aka Dude when reading this due to how Denny always refers to him as 'dude'. Chuck pulls no punches when pointing out the dysfunctions of human kind and his characters all embody them. Tongue in cheek humor combined with unadulterated bashing is what Chuck is known for. There's no rhyme or reason, moral or happy ending here. Just the creative genius of an author named Chuck. In his own right books of this sort should qualify for the Upchuck genre since they don't fit anywhere else!

Chuck Palahniuk is THE voice of clinical depressives and perverts everywhere! His books are disgusting and hilarious and offensive and wonderful. I love him! Granted, he's not for everyone, and his novel "Choke", about an unlikeable sex addict (which seems contradictory to me, but whatever...), may be his most offensive book yet... but I doubt it.

Chuck Palahniuk cannot end a book to save his life; none of the ones I've read were very satisfying in the end. But what he does do - extremely well - is tell short, interesting, and often funny anecdotes that are nearly all based on real, actual events that happen to people every day, and that is not something to be taken lightly.

If it could be read as a series of events that are all interesting in and of themselves, Choke would be his best book, a hilarious and compelling series of slice-o-life narrative and takes you to your own backyard and points dramatically at the insects that live beneath the nearby rocks (or, in this case, inside tin-pans full of beer). However, when he tries to create connective tissue that ties these bits together, he often falls flat, and leaves me wanting more than he can deliver.

Don't get me wrong, this book is worth your effort. The story about the girl who wants to be mock-raped, and her continual frustration at her partner's inability to "do it right" is fantastically funny, and their "masturbation race" at the end made it a little difficult to not laugh when I went back to work. (In fact, most of the book centers around sex, in lots of extremely perverse ways. Sadly, it is rarely sexy, but very, very funny.)

Then you realize what you're laughing about. And now that's funny, too. It's something that Palahniuk does extremely well. However, when the end comes stumbling toward you, there is a sense that the effort to tie it all together falls short. All the elements themselves are fantastic, but to force them to be parts of a larger whole seems to miss the point of what makes them work as scenes. The title itself refers to what is ultimately such a small amount of the book, perhaps a nod to the fact that he himself sees that as the strongest part, which is not a ringing endorsement.

Still, check it out from the library and give it a shot. You won't loose any money, and it's a quick weekend read. And then you'll have something really dirty to bring up at your next fancy dress party, which is always a good way to make friends.

Excerpt:

"Here, I'm supposed to tell her the truth. I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of his death from being a total surprise.

In a way, being an addict is very proactive.

A good addiction takes the guesswork out of death. There is such a thing as planning your getaway.

And for serious, it's such a chick thing to think that any human life should just go on and on.

See also: Dr. Paige Marshall.

See also: Ida Mancini.

The truth is, sex isn't sex unless you have a new partner every time. The first time is the only session when your head and body are both there. Even the second hour of that first time, your head can start to wander. You don't get the full anesthetic quality of good first-time anonymous sex.

What would Jesus NOT do?

But instead of all that, I just lied to Miss Lacey and said, "How can I reach you?"

I tell the fourth-graders that they call it cancer because when the cancer starts growing inside you, when it breaks through your skin, it looks like a big red crab. Then the crab breaks open and it's all bloody and white inside.

"Whatever the doctors tried," I tell the silent little kids, "every little boy would end up dirty and diseased and screaming in terrible pain. And who can tell me what happened next?"

No hands go up.

"For sure," I say, "he died, of course."

And I put the poker back into the fire.

"So," I say, "any questions?"

No hands go up, so I tell them about the fairly bogus studies where scientists shaved mice and smeared them with smegma from horses. This was supposed to prove foreskins caused cancer.

A dozen hands go up, and I tell them, "Ask your teacher."

What a frigging job that must've been, shaving those poor mice. Then finding a bunch of uncircumcised horses.
The clock on the mantel shows our half hour is almost over. Out through the window, Denny's still bent over in the stocks. He's only got until one o'clock. A stray village dog stops next to him and lifts its leg, and the stream of steaming yellow goes straight into Denny's wooden shoe.

"And what else," I say, "is George Washington kept slaves and didn't ever chop down a cherry tree, and he was really a woman."

As they push toward the door I tell them, "And don't mess with the dude in the stocks anymore." I shout, "And lay off shaking the damn chicken eggs."

Just to stir the turd, I tell them to ask the cheesemaker why his eyes are all red and dilated. Ask the blacksmith about the icky lines going up and down the insides of his arms. I call after the infectious little monsters, any moles or freckles they have, that's just cancer waiting to happen. I call after them, "Sunshine is your enemy. Stay off the sunny side of the street."
-end

Choke is my favorite book. It's about sexual addiction, Jesus complexes, and doing something GOOD with your life instead of just not doing bad things. It helped shape my current world-attitude and psyche, for better or worse.

4/5

Kaip man patinka autoriai, kurie netingi sugalvoti visų įmanomų priėjimo būdų kam nors (pageidautina -visiems) suerzinti. Jei reikėtų tokių karalių išsirinkti (na, tokį tikrą, ne pigiais šoviniais užkalniškai šaudantį), tikrai į galvą šautų Palahniukas – jo knygose tiek visokio plauko brudo, kad tikrai nors KAS NORS kiekviename jautrią stygą užkabins. Jei tik leisiesi. Taip ir su „Pasprink“, autorius čia leidžia rinktis savo jautrenybę: gal purvinas, neįpareigojantis, dažnai šlykštus (dažnai tualetuose) seksas, su dar šlykštesnėmis moterimis? Gal psichiniai ligoniai, iš kurių nevengiama pažvengti? Senukai, iš kurių pasityčiojama, nes smegenys jau košė? Dievas? Kuris nors? Priklausomi žmonės? Nuo ko nors, tik spėk rinktis: alkoholio, narkotikų, sekso. O gal kažką dar laikote šventais? Mamas? Tėvus? Vaikus? Jei reikėtų spėlioti, tikrai sakyčiau, kad Palahniukas susijaudina, galvodamas apie visas skirtingas grupes, kurias pavyksta viena knyga įžeisti. Lyg mesdamas boulingo kamuolį – vienas, du trys, dešimt. STRAIKAS.

Tiek „Pasprink“ telpa absurdo, kad žiūrėti į knygą rimtai nei verta, nei patartina, o ir apie ją sunku kalbėti nieko neišduodant. Ir kuo greičiau tiesiog leidi autoriui tave nešti savo pasąmonės srautu, kaip kokia šūdų ir purvo upe, tuo lengviau pačiam – tada ir absurdas gražiausiomis spalvomis sužydi, ir humoras atsiskleidžia, ir nei logikos norisi ieškoti, nei prieš metaforas užsimerki. Aišku, tikrai ne visiems tokia patirtis maloni, bet man fainai, kai už mane autorius protingesnis. Daug čia kritikos visuomenei ir jos ydoms, kaip kad pas Palahniuką ir įprasta, bet žinoma, 2021-aisiais jau tikrai šita knyga nesirodo kaip kokia Šėtoniška Biblija, kokia tikriausiai buvo planuota ją savo laiku paversti. Mes jau daug (per daug?) matę, daug skaitę, daug girdėję. Bet prieš kelis dešimtmečius ji tikrai gerokai kalė į klyną ir vien kelias recenzijas akimis permetus tai pasidaro akivaizdu. Vadinasi, suveikė, boulingo kamuolys nuvertė visus kėglius, į kuriuos taikėsi.

Bet ir šokiruoja Palahniukas dažniausiai ne pigiai (net jei kartais pasirenka kiek per žemai kabančius taikinius), ne šlykštumais kokiais nuvalkiotais. Keliose vietose net kala taip, kad tikrai beveik oro pritrūksta. Ir man net saldus tas jausmas, kai autorius prigauna, užliūliuoja, o tada gerai smogia. Mazochistiška, bet man fainai. Todėl pasidžiaugiau skaitydama ir „Pasprink“. Ar rekomenduočiau? Tikriausiai. Bet man irgi, kaip matyt ir jam, truputį smagu, kai žmonės piktinasi įsižeidę, ką nors jiems švento užkabinus. Tai gal nereikėtų labai manęs aklai klausyti.

Al quarto Palahniuk le campane della ridondanza suonano che é un tedio. Forse me lo sarei dovuto tenere fra i primi. Ma sicuramente sarà l’ultimo.

I just couldn't do it! I could not read this drivel. It's not subversive. It's not funny. It's not interesting. It's not shocking. It is juvenile.

Franzen's The Corrections, Roth's Portnoy's Complaint, and BBE's American Phycho are not in my favorites by any stretch of the imagination...but at least these three have ideas and can actually write even if I didn't want to read what they were writing about.

And PLEASE don't compare this guy to the genius who was Kurt Vonnegut! Just don't even go there.

If you think it's funny when an adult says the word "bugger" you might like this book. Otherwise, don't bother.

"Psychotic" isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.

Seriously, this book is WEIRD. But, having said that, it's what made it so entertaining. The story never really WENT anywhere, though the ending was a surprise. The whole book was random, jumping from one thing to another - choking here, going to work, visiting his mom, going into his past...and there was a lot of pretty graphic areas regarding sex. On the whole, I pretty much hated the main character, he seemed like such a pig, but at the same time you enjoy reading about his demented and twisted life.

Anyway, it was a pretty good book. Don't read it if you're easily offended!

Granny dumpers, fat Tarzan and the monkey with the ass flavored chestnuts, tantric architecture, safe words and the sacred foreskin. Yep.

Victor is a serial choker, medical school dropout, sex addict and bit player in an 18th century living museum. He may also be the Messiah. Or not
.
Palahniuk does it again with his sarcastic and witty take on choking as a business opportunity. Only Chuck could pull this one off.

Це настільки огидно і збоченно, і чому мені було цікаво це читати? Але так, це було цікаво читати. Я чекав що буде далі.

Колись у тіктоці я розповім процес створення цього роману, чому Чак Поланік взяв за основу історії чоловіка, який задихається в ресторані, починає помирати, роблячи інших героями в якийсь момент.

Як у випадку з іншими книжками автора — це однозначно не для всіх. Це окремий вид літератури (transgressive fiction), де автори, скоріше за все, втілюють свої найбільші страхи/мрії.
Тут круто (у свою міру) розкрита тема сексоголізму і інших залежностей.

Шукати сенс — чи є сенс?) Це ж Поланік. Він лише веде вас кількасот сторінок до якоїсь певної думки, яку ви, скоріше за все, чули, або втілюєте, або самі її кажете. У випадку з «Задухою» це: будуйте своє життя самі. Не посилайтесь на своє минуле. Будуйте його. Живіть з ним, воно ваше.

Вау! ❤️

Interesting portrayal of addiction in the explicitness of its self-loathing, self-pitiless light. "Choke" is not a book for everyone and it wasn't really a book for me. Palahniuk's writing style is interesting, unique, and reads easily in a way that makes me think he'd be a good screenwriter, as his writing, to me, provokes movielike images upon reading. This writing style, while strong and distinctly Palahniuk, doesn't get along well with my love of poetry prose in writing. The absurdity to Palahniuk's stories, although obscene and cringey to read sometimes, does contribute to the themes of his books, and these themes are relevant and true to modernity, humanity, and civilization. I loved Fight Club because of its honesty and truthfulness.

Choke made me laugh, but that's really the best reaction it got from me. After reading three books by Palahniuk, his straightforwardness, use of refrain, and manchild protagonists who are going through their High School Moral Nihilist phases on in adulthood, are kindaaaa boring. Granted, the first of the three Palahniuk books I read was narrated by a female character but if I recall correctly, she carried a similar voice. What I did find interesting about it was the flashbacks between Vincent's childhood and current-self because it is interesting to observe how his childhood how the "philosophies" his mother "taught" him manifested in his adult self and if they didn't exactly "manifest", how they affected him regardless.

Choke is funny, honest, and ugly. Not a book I'd bother recommending but, sure, it's a book some people may find meaning in. It is, after all, in many ways, about finding meaning - or, even, the will to search for it.

3.5