Review: Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk

Fight Club: A Novel 
Chuck Palahniuk
1996

An Alexandrine Couplet Comparing The Book To The Movie

Certain parts make more sense and the scope is bigger,

but you all saw the film—it’s pretty much the same.

Okay, look, we all saw the movie. So I’ll just compare the 2 to save time. Honestly, they’re both really good.

The movie’s so good you’d never guess I was Brad Pitt’s body double in this scene.

I’m about to make a bold statement: Chuck Palahniuk is one of the best writers of the 20^th century. I’ll qualify that by saying half his books aren’t all great. I actually finished Choke (yeah, I’m the one) so I know they’re not all diamonds. But when he’s on, like in Survivor, Rant, and yes, Fight Club, it’s transcendent. It’s the sort of writing that makes writers jealous.

Enough ass-kissing.

Fight Club, though it didn’t really get credit for this, largely defines its generation, and the current one. It’s about how we’re so busy being told what to do and own and how to define ourselves, and trying to live up to the unrealistic, preset expectations of our parents and society, that we can’t figure out how to do what we want or make ourselves happy. It’s about how consumer culture and advertising has perverted us, and when this was written that wasn’t the common notion it is now. Of course, because Chuck wrote it, Fight Club decides the only solution to this problem is the Nihilistic destruction of society, worldwide.

It would have been much easier for Tyler to hire this guy. Just sayin’.

The Nihilist theme is one of the few differences between the book and movie. In Fight Club The Movie, you don’t see or understand the full scope of Fight Club/Project Mayhem/Tyler Durden’s Wet Dream. In the movie, Tyler and Friends are anarchists trying to take down society. They’re blowing up financial buildings. (I can’t be the only one who notices that terrorists blowing up financial buildings was totally acceptable in 1997, but that’s a whole different discussion). In Fight Club The Novel, they’re dropping a financial building on top a natural history museum – attacking corporate America as well as history and culture. That’s an attack with a very different purpose. It’s also a worldwide movement in the book.

The other big difference, really, is that you understand a lot better in Fight Club The Novel how it’s all really about Marla all along, that Tyler is doing all this, taking a sledge hammer to society at large, because he’s so emasculated and callow that he doesn’t have the balls to ask her on a date.

Nothing says “diner and a movie” like the destruction of society.

—Alternate Picture—

   

He could have just asked Snoop Dogg for advice.

Really, it would have been a much easier solution.

Oh yeah, and one more difference: Meatloaf is in the movie.
 

Because he loves Chuck Palahniuk,

and he’ll do anything for love. 

Look, it’s an excellent book. It’s as good a book as the movie is a movie, and they’re both classics. If you haven’t read it, you should. Or just watch it if you haven’t in a few years. Both couldn’t hurt.

 

Because this image is just too iconic not to include.

Review: Double Duce, By Aaron Cometbus

Double Duce (Plus! the WDH Stories) 
Aaron Cometbus
1997/2003

An Alexandrine Couplet About Aaron Cometbus And Friends

                                              Aaron and his friends live in unlikely places

                                              they laugh, love, fight, party—they live the punk rock life

First, you have to know that Aaron is serious about being punk rock. It’s not just music, though he’s been a drummer and roadie for dozens of band, and it’s not just clothes or hair, although he certainly looks punk. It’s lifestyle, community, family. 

It's Everything.

See, this book is about Aaron’s life, and to Aaron in Double Duce, him and his friends are living the life that’s appropriate to them. Their life is toned with anarchy and petty crime, sometimes with justifications but more often none because punk seldom justifies itself. They might hurt each other, and hate each other at times, but they don’t hurt, interfere, or really even notice others. They share things that keep them together, or at least bring them together again and again. Otherwise, they’re busy. They’re busy living together in water towers and storefronts and attics, sitting in a doughnut shop, shooting a TV, stealing coins from the fountain at Embarcadero Center, running from the BART police.  

You know, the usual.

But also busy biking or hiking, organizing punk themed group picnics, taking care of each other, staying in touch.

And Aaron, Aaron’s busy making sense of this, so you don’t have to. He makes punk believable, validates it in a way few can, because he’s so eloquent, so honest, so true to the good sides and the bad.

This is Aaron Cometbus.

He looks pretty sincere to me.

And if he doesn’t look punk enough for you,

you should see him drumming.

Along the way you meet his friends, the girls he likes, the people he knows. And you meet him. You really feel like you meet him, or like you have known him all along. When he’s down your heart aches with his, when he’s having a great time you can feel it like someone you know telling you a fun story. Aaron is that good a writer.

So, and this very true of all his writing, he’s nostalgic. He’s often sad or lonely. He’s often alone, showing up strange cities with no friends or connections and starting over again. But as melancholy as he can be, he’s also full of hope. He believes his lifestyle can prevail, and it has, at least for him. He has faith, and faith is a powerful thing.

                

Double Duce is about punk, and it’s about going to shows and puking in gutters. But this a romantic book. It’s also about the romance of punk, and about feeling, and humanity. If you’re into punk, into zines, into strange true characters, I challenge you not to enjoy this.

A few words about the writing: Aaron’s style is famous, as is his script. He didn’t write this quickly or flippantly, though it may seem he did at a glance. He wrote it over months and years, and it shows, both in the vignette style and in the quality, clarity, and tone. It also shows in the physical writing. This book was handwritten in Aaron’s own, blockish capital letters. It takes a few pages to get used to, but it works. And Aaron is serious about it. Also, it’s a very quick read. Because of the font, the style, the large and frequent chapter breaks, the pages turn and turn. It’s hard to put down, and I don’t know why you’d bother. At the very least, when you finish it, you understand a very visible subculture better, and that’s more then you get from most books.

I’m aware that this blog entry has been lacking in comic relief. Apologies. But one final note, just to confirm for you how serious I am about all this: If I could meet any living writer, I would have to think long and hard. But Aaron Cometbus would easily make the short list. And that’s saying something.

We all do.