"Do you think I'm an idiot if i say the best part of Party Crashing, what makes it best, is it's like this breaker? A circuit breaker? How about if your mom is yelling, calling you a lazy fuck, and you lost another job, and your friends from school, they have everything going, and you don't even have a date? What if it's a total toilet in your head, but out of nowhere -slam-bo!- somebody crashes into you, and you're better? Isn't it like a gift, somebody slamming you? Don't you get out of the car, all shaky and shocked? Like you're a baby getting born? Or a whole relaxing massage that happens in one-half of a second?
Isn't Party Crashing like an electroshock treatment for your depression?"
Gritty, raw, violent fiction.
I have another reason to affirm Palahniuk's status as one of the greatest modern writers / creatives of our time.
I can never imagine a plot as this...but when it is expressed as eloquently and possibly as how Pahlaniuk has, it kind of makes sense, it kind of sounds right, it inovokes intellectual anxiety and it makes my brain grin. His subversion of reality is so mind-bending good, it hurts.
It hurts like how it'll hurt to know that your father could be your son, and your son could also be your grandfather in an alternate reality where time can be transcended and the human ambition to live forever suceeds.
Wait, did I say "it kind of sounds right"? I almost feel ashamed to be a fan of his writing. But good fiction is what it is: in an unparalleled universe, perhaps, Palahniuk shall be the mystery bogeyman who writes the stories of our lives a la Stranger Than Fiction and we will all agree, twas a great story, indeed a great story - we concede to let our minds run away with his pen's rant.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is Fight Club, round II.
(Review also at Goodreads.)
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