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People love to hate Chuck Palahniuk. It is the intelligent thing to do. Or maybe it's just the intellectual thing to do. Whenever anybody gains the sort of cult status that Mr Palahniuk has, it is inevitable that the collective body of intellectuals will come to an agreement (probably during a secret meeting during which they all wear robes)that they don't like him. Here is one of my problems with intellectuals: their taste is too calculated, too coordinated. They wrap themselves in intelligent identities and get all fucking matchy matchy with who they decide fits in with this season's shade of snobbery.
Why do I like Chuck Palahniuk's writing? It's not just because he revels in the macabre, the gross, the disturbing. While I do appreciate his readiness and willingness to explore that stuff, since it keeps things fresh and original; what I appreciate most about his writing is that he keeps it vibrant and colorful. The darks are darkest and the lights are lightest. His plots and twists sometimes feel contrived, but every time I realize I am feeling mildly disappointed by a plot twist as it was happening, I keep reading and find that the whole plot thing isn't really what make his books enjoyable for me. What really captures me every time is the rich, fucked up depictions of humanity in its various forms, the portraits of dysfunction, and the illustrations of pain and pleasure. Like an HDR photograph with saturation and sharpness turned way way up, there is something fascinating and exciting there. Put a bright light on a wrinkled old face in a pitch black room and just sketch the darkest black of the deep creases. Ignore the rest. It is still a true portrayal of something. It is perhaps incomplete, perhaps blown way up or tinkered with to make it pop, but it is an illustration of something, and can be far more entertaining and moving than an accurate, nuanced portrait, with gentle shading and muted colors.
Rant was satisfying for me in so many ways. One thing that really endeared me to this book was the slow reveal. The entire book was the gentle tugging at a curtain that eventually showed the entirety of something. Another thing about this book that makes me really love it is that even after all is revealed, you can still be entirely unsure what it adds up to. The author didn't want you to be sure of your opinion about this book. He didn't want you to know what it was really all about. He just wanted to show you a series of sketches, presenting them without a clear agenda or direction. In the end you probably have an idea about what this might be about, but there's no way you're sure. Being sure about what happened in this book is like being sure about life. If you are sure then you're probably an idiot.
Great book unless you hate fun.