Chicago Flame Archives: Chuck Palahniuk Interview

As I've mentioned quite a few times in various posts, I worked for the Chicago Flame newspaper (the student newspaper of the University of Illinois at Chicago) from 2002-2005, beginning as a writer for "The Inferno," the paper's entertainment supplement, before rounding out my tenure as the entertainment editor. Recently, the Flame's website has been retooled, and my old archives have been difficult to find. I've decided to save my physical copies of the old issues, and as I continue my ongoing job search, I'm hoping to scan the papers into a portfolio, but I also feel that it would be a good idea to archive them on this blog.

Throughout the summer, I'll be sharing my old pieces, but I must issue this caveat: with the very rare exception, these are not thrilling writing examples. I wrote for the paper between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two, a young age period that saw me struggling with my creative voice, and simply not having enough experience, media exposure, and points of reference to begin a journalism career (I still cringe when I read the end of this article, in which I gush that author Chuck Palahniuk is one of America's greatest novelists). I'll do my best to check my self-deprecation at the door. For my first archival piece, I present my interview with Palahniuk, conducted in August of 2002 at the Swissotel in downtown Chicago. As I've also mentioned in previous writings about Palahniuk, my literary tastes have changed in the last nine years, but he was one of the most polite, gracious interviewees one could ever hope to encounter.

Chuck Palahniuk: Up Close and Not Too Personal (originally published in the Chicago Flame, August 27, 2002)



Here's a word of advice. Try not to get too sappy with Chuck Palahniuk, because he will get sick of it mighty quickly. Palahniuk believes that today's literature and fiction contains too much emphasis on sentimentality, relationships, and overall predictable niceness.

This is where he comes in, being a writer famous for presenting characters and situations that are anything but wholesome. In the remaining months before the release of Lullaby, his highly awaited fifth novel, Palahniuk sounds off on several topics, including today's fiction.

"I'm sick of it," he says, commenting on the prevalent themes of today's literature. "It's all about family and looking for Mr. Right. There's way too much sweetness and reflection. Also, people define peer groups as family, and [literature] is blatantly about relationships."

Palahniuk feels strong dissatisfaction with actual topics as well as themes. "There's so much focus on parental issues and teen rebellion, also on memoirs. You have teenagers writing memoirs now. It's more about resolving the past than on looking at the future."

With that in mind, the premise of Lullaby is attributable to Palahniuk's knack of writing with graphic themes and mentalities. "It's sort of an evil Harry Potter. We all have fantasies of power and control, and this novel shows what could happen if we really had these powers, possibilities of our dark sides." He keeps comments on Lullaby to a bare minimum, relying instead on the publicity department of Doubleday Publishing to do that job. Instead, he is much more open to discussions on his previously published works.

Undoubtedly, his most famous novel is 1996's Fight Club, fueled by the movie version in 1999 starring Brad Pitt and Edward Norton. Despite the fame, he expresses frustration with the ongoing mystique of the book and the film. To Palahniuk, Fight Club is an example of a silver cloud with a dark lining. "I should have quit writing and stayed as a mechanic," he says, referring to his previous job. "I had a good job as a mechanic, but had to quit because people were constantly calling me about Fight Club. I took my boss out to lunch so I could tell him I was quitting. He put his hands over his ears and said he didn't want to hear it."

Palahniuk also feels a stigma with his constantly being referred to as 'the author of Fight Club.' "It's going to say that on my tombstone," he says with a laugh. "Yes, I want to get beyond the point where Fight Club does not need to be mentioned."

Even today, fans and critics believe he harbors an underground secret. "At book signings, people will come up to me and ask 'So where's the fight club meeting afterwards?' I tell them that there is no fight club, and they'll say 'Oh, I know you're not supposed to talk about it.' Then they get pissed because I don't tell them. Also, newspapers want to send reporters to do exposes on fight clubs. They call me and ask where the fight club in Sarasota, Florida is located. I'm like 'Dude, I don't even know where Sarasota is.' Then they get pissed and hang up."

With Fight Club and Choke, the New York Times bestseller, Palahniuk expresses a fascination with support groups. "I like the dynamic of twelve-step and support groups, because they replace modern religion. You used to go to church, confess, and have all of your sins absolved. Now that happens with support groups."

Choke tells the story of Victor Mancini, a man swept up in a parallel world of sin and highly debatable goodness. Victor is intended to be a representation of a modern day Jesus Christ. "I wanted Victor Mancini to have a tendency to be Jesus for other people," says Palahniuk. "People have a desire to be divine for others." Palahniuk also downplays statements by fans and critics that he is a sort of messenger and critic of society's problems, despite evidence to the contrary in his works. "I don't think that society is going downhill anymore than it has been," he says.

The novel Invisible Monsters is probably the most daring novel he has written, and also the least-praised one at that. It tells the tale of a mutilated fashion model, her friend and cohort (a sex-changed bombshell, Brandy Alexander) as well as their encounters with colorful supporting characters. Subtle criticisms on the world of fashion are weaved into the plot. "I find all these attributes to a piece of fabric [silly]," says Palahniuk. Instead, the main intention of Invisible Monsters is a complete attack on gender roles and norms. Palahniuk has strong, almost controversial opinions on the characteristics of men and women in our society.

"Women watch Lifetime for information on relationships, and men watch The History Channel so they feel as if new information on actions has been taken away." Chuck Palahniuk is not a chauvinist. He is not a radical prophet for 21st century America. Above all, he is a writer, one with simple beliefs on writing that make for the gripping results. The main tool for Palahniuk is the heavy use of non-fictional elements in the fictional settings.

"I love the process of writing," he explains. On the use of non-fiction, he comments "It makes the realistic seem real in an unrealistic situation."

For someone who believes that his skills as a mechanic were more important than the writing talents, Chuck Palahniuk has had tremendous success with the latter. He is unfazed by worldwide recognition, a cult following of fans, and a major motion picture based on his very first novel. Palahniuk is a modest craftsman of words, quietly and calming continuing his establishment as one of America's greatest novelists.

Not Much To Tell

Back in 2008, I wrote a brief review of Chuck Palahniuk's novel Snuff, and in looking over what I wrote at that time, I realized two important things. One, I was very diplomatic in discussing a book that I haven't thought about since the time I wrote the review, a title that would undoubtedly reveal many more problems in my mind if I were to re-read it. Two, as I mentioned in that piece, I interviewed Mr. Palahniuk in 2002. I was nineteen years old at the time, and I've finally realized that his gracious manners and politeness in talking with a starstruck teenager has shaped my opinions of his works. As a human being, I'll always respect him, just based on the hour and a half I spent with him eight years ago. However, his works have consistently gone downhill, and I cringe when I think back to my original interview, in which I balanced thoughtful questions and responses with gushing praise, calling Palahniuk "one of America's greatest living novelists," or something along those lines. I can't find the link to said piece, but that's just as well; in my early years devoted to books, I assumed I knew everything when in fact, I knew nothing. It reminds me of an old quote written by Roger Ebert in regard to John Waters. Ebert disliked a particular film by Mr. Waters, but was quick to mention how respectful and polite Waters can be...this is a case of confusing an artist with his or her work, but it's important for me to note that.



Palahniuk consistently publishes one book every spring, and this year, his newest novel is Tell-All. As I've done in recent years, I went into it with low expectations, partly in response to my blind praise of earlier times, and partly with hope that expecting to be disappointed will yield some bright spots. Tell-All is a dark satire of Hollywood memoirs, detailing the life of aging star Kathie Kenton, narrated primarily by her caretaker (and former Hollywood hopeful) Hazie Coogan. Much like Norma Desmond in the film Sunset Boulevard, Kenton believes that she is still relevant and able to regain her former status. Coogan does everything she can to help, from organizing every part of Kenton's life, being wary of potential male suitors, reading potential scripts, and, in a clever touch, dutifully etching every one of Kenton's physical flaws into a mirror with a diamond ring. The mansion in which they live, even though the story is set in the past, seems to resemble a more contemporary version of Desmond's abode in Billy Wilder's classic.

"Next to the bed, the night table built from a thousand hopeful dreams, those balanced screenplays, it supports two barbiturates and a double whiskey. Miss Kathie's hand stops petting and scratching the dog's muzzle; there the fur looks dark and matted. She pulls back her arm, and the towel slips from her head, her hair tumbling out, limp and gray, pink scalp showing between the roots. The green mask of her avocado face cracking in surprise (Palahniuk 16)."

Two other supporting characters are Lillian Hellman, an actress/director who casts herself in every project, and who happens to direct a Broadway show based on World War II that could be Kathie's big comeback. However, her younger lover, Webster Carlton Westward III, is possibly plotting Kathie's demise in order to publish a scandalous biography detailing their love life. Hazie is distrustful of the young man from the beginning, and the novel alternates between which is worse: the myriad of potential ways Westward could kill Kenton, or the effect of a posthumous tarnished legacy.

Like the majority of Palahniuk's works, there is really nothing to "review"--he takes a specific theme and expands a novel around it. This worked well with Fight Club, with its underlying looks at masculinity in the face of an ever-growing consumer culture. However, Tell-All is just that: a fictionalized tell-all. However, Palahniuk does a decent job with some of his usual styles. He has a tendency to repeat key phrases and sentences as a sort of chorus through a given novel. In this work, he repeats animal sounds, and while the initial explanation doesn't have much effect, the sounds work well throughout the course of the book.

"Beyond her first few words, Lillian's talk becomes one of those jungle sound tracks one hears looping in the background of every Tarzan film, just tropical birds and Johnny Weismuller and howler monkeys repeating. Bark, bark, screech...Emerald Cunard. Bark, growl, screech...Cecil Beaton (Palahniuk 3)."

The above passage also highlights two other recurring motifs. The book is written and styled like a long gossip column, with hundreds of names, phrases, and titles highlighted in boldfaced font. The intention is smart, but after awhile, it merely becomes a distraction. Palahniuk also weaves both real-life and fictionalized names from old Hollywood, including phrases from vintage columnists that are made up, but sound authentic.

"Miss Kathie's goal: to reduce until she becomes what Lolly Parsons calls nothing but 'tan and bones.' What Hedda Hopper calls a 'lipstick skeleton (Palahniuk 33).'"

These themes and wordplays will be very familiar to anyone who has read Palahniuk's works consistently, and anybody who considers him or herself a fan of his novels should enjoy this one. There are far worse writers around today, and while I freely admit some personal bias, I really don't have an opinion on Tell-All either way. I absolutely loved his novel Choke, and absolutely hated Pygmy. Perhaps that's the worst sign of all: apathy. I have long doubted that he'll ever write anything that will come close to the strength of his earlier works, but there's always hope. In the meantime, one can also hope that he realizes that he doesn't have to publish books on such a consistent schedule. A little more thought, editing, and research might yield a better novel. There's no doubt that Palahniuk has fun with his works, and for a quick read, Tell-All is easy to digest. To borrow a line from Choke: Guilty pleasure isn't the right phrase, but it's the first phrase that comes to mind.

(S)'Nuff Said

Whenever Chuck Palahniuk comes out with a new book, I always get excited, sometimes against my better judgement. While I believe that a select few of his novels (Fight Club, Invisible Monsters, Survivor, and Choke) are great works, his fiction has rapidly declined in quality since then. His later works run dangerously close to being mere schlock disguised in literary clothing. As of late, it seems as if Palahniuk is sacrificing his talents in order to shock readers. And then shock them some more. While this trait is evident in his earlier fiction, it worked with the story instead of now, when he seems to think of the most subversive acts and tries to weave a novel around them. Despite these criticisms, he will always hold a special place in my love of literature and books. He very graciously provided me with my first interview as a college journalist, which alone fills me with excitement before the release of a new title.

I recently finished his latest book, Snuff, and I'm pleased to report that he seems to be going in a better direction, albeit with some flaws. While not a great book by any means, the "shock values" are toned down, based in what most of us would assume is the seedy, business-like workings of the pornography industry. Snuff tells the story of Cassie Wright, a veteran porn star attempting to set a world record by fornicating with six hundred men on film. It's told mainly by three of the "actors" waiting for their turns, as well as Cassie's assistant. They all have their separate agendas, and Palahniuk deals with these agendas quite well by hinting at them early on instead of relying on a quick, jumbled ending (as he's been wont to do lately). This might seem like an awfully basic plot description, but any further details would require giving quite a bit away.

Palahniuk has always been categorized as a minimalist, and Snuff is quite heavy on that (oxymoron?). The physical descriptions and scenes are done quite well, giving the reader a well-done atmosphere, but moving on quickly. Most of the paragraphs are just a sentence or two long enough to avoid being stylized a la James Frey--stark and minimalist in a very annoying fashion. Overall, especially given its late May release, Snuff feels like a beach novel trying to masquerade as subversive fiction.

Despite my harsh criticisms, the novel does have some genuinely funny moments, and the "porn names" of several major films (A Separate Piece) are creative. Plus, Palahniuk devotes more time to describing factual, historical events that weave in greatly with the story. To borrow the name of his non-fiction collection, it's truly stranger than fiction. It's his way of showing that no matter how depraved some of his fiction ideas are, they're not that different from what happens on a daily basis. Based on his early quartet of excellent novels, I'm fully convinced that Palahniuk still has the talent to blend literature with the bizarre. Snuff isn't close, but much more enjoyable than anything he's published in the last five years.