Question: I nearly finished reading Guts the other day. Not quite, though. It was the swimming pool thing that did me in. Are these real stories?
Chuck Palahniuk: Yes, those three stories are all true. I know each of those guys. And for years I prayed I could find some way to link them and make a story. All three "victims" are living normal lives. The first two were friends in college - the wax event happened while the guy was actually in college, not when he was 13 years old. It forced him to drop out and leave the region because the medical bills were enormous. The swimming pool guy I met in a sex addiction support group while researching Choke. It turns out his disasters are fairly common. And it makes for huge law suits.
Q: I just about got through Guts. Were you consciously trying to write a story that people would find unpleasant, or was that a side effect of a story that you wanted to write for other reasons?
CP: My goal is always to make you laugh, make you feel something in your stomach, and finally, to break your heart. The ending to Guts (with the family dog) is so sad it hurts for me to read it out loud. It's that final pathos that saves the story and reveals the endless shame of the narrator. No, it's a rough journey. But one that movies will never make, so books must. That's why I did it.
Q:Guts is quite extraordinary, to the extent that my wife suspected the last ("pearl diving") section might be a true story. I said it wasn't because the sister's abortion was too neat at the end. It seemed that the story was too well-crafted as a story to convince as reportage. Did you ever consider trying to make it more 'real'? Also, it would be interesting to know to what extent you did base the story on urban myth?
CP: Your wife is right about the abortion - even the sister getting pregnant is added. My friends in writers workshop said it needed more of a twisted laugh near the end. So I added the pregnancy. That's what I like in friends: a strong stomach.
Q: Congratulations on Guts - I have never read any piece of literature before now that has made me feel physically faint, but I nearly blacked out a couple of times reading that. So you can add another to your tally I guess. Guts was also the first thing I have read by you and, after chatting to my (clearly far more literate) friends about it, they all recommended different books. So my question is this: which of your works would you prefer people to read first? Is there one piece you're most proud of, or one that you feel sums up what you're about?
CP: Take a look at Lullaby. It's a fast read, and deals with a lot of environmental stuff I feel tortured about. And there's no chance it will become a movie.
Q: In the Guardian interview a few days ago, I read that you are keeping count of how many people fainted while you read guts. Why?
CP: We seem to have this idea that books must be nice, nice objects that sit on the shelf until it's time for them to bore us to sleep. Laura Bush even said this on the Oprah show. The fact is, books can be the most cutting-edge of our media. They're consensual - like Fight Club was. No one has to broadcast them on television or radio. No, you must make an effort to read them. So books can deal with stories that other mass media never could. Yet, we waste this freedom; we write nice books. Well, my goal is to use the freedom. I will stand at the opposite side of the spectrum from Rosamund Pilcher (who my mom loves) and write about dark, funny stuff. Because I can.
I never believe the stories about how Dickens would read aloud and people would faint. Now, I have seen the power that words can have, the power they do have. I love the power of words - no music or special effects - and I want to demonstrate that power. Afterwards, I give out presents (including tiaras, severed rubber legs, and jewellery) because people need the comic relief.
Q: How much editing and re-editing goes into your sentence structure to keep them as taut and lean as they finally appear? They remind me of early Carver and Post Office-era Bukowski, and I know they like to edit and like to leave manuscripts virtually untouched, respectively. To what extent is your prose clipped?
CP: In any piece of writing, my goal is to get the action done. In my head, I establish the plot point that must happen in this scene and I make it happen to keep the chapter short and to keep the momentum of the story going. The only time I might slow things is for effect - think of the "cleaning hint" chapter in Survivor. This established the "brains" or character or "authority" of the narrator. But it still has to be interesting trivia. So, before you even write that scene, get it down in your mind: what has to happen here?
Q: What do you think of the McSweeney's empire? Do you think it has changed or influenced reading habits and publishing methods in the US? Do you subscribe to any literary magazines or journals?
CP: McSweeney's empire? Ouch. I've never given it a thought, except for a terrible piece the Believer did last year about the Landmark Forum. They seemed to think I wrote Fight Club in one night after doing the course... just bad, bad writing and fact-checking. That's my only brush with the folks. Otherwise, I've met Heidi Julavits, and she's nice enough. That's it.
Q:Your last few books have been part of a horror trilogy and your Stranger Than Fiction collection looks set to carry that trend on. What is it that drew you to genre fiction? Do you think we need to see a return to that style of social commentary?
CP: Actually, next year's collection of short stories (including Guts) will be the third book in the horror series. I used to love horror books, but they seem a little stuck. That genre has always been our way to deal with the invisible carrot that is too threatening and scary to recognise. In that way it deals more effectively with social issues. That's why I love that horror stuff. And I love it too much to watch it mired in old metaphors like vampires, forever. What are the new monsters that portray the issues we're too afraid to talk about? So, I'm still very much in the social commentary game. I'm just not hitting people on the head with it.
Q: The workers in both Fight Club and Choke seem to be inspired by the autonomist politics of the 60s and 70s in both their refusal of and manipulation of work. Is this the case? Also, have you read Empire by Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri? If so, what is your opinion of their concept of "the multitude"and do you think it insinuates mass disruption and violence?
CP: I have no idea what you're talking about. The books are based on my friends and how they reacted to jobs (eg Geoff Pleat peed in the soup). We all do that shit. I avoid abstract theory because anecdotes and "real" stories have a more emotional and lasting teaching effect. Sorry, I'm not as smart as your books.
Q: You kindly signed a book for me at Borders in Cambridge last year, and you mentioned during your talk how much the Landmark course helped you. I have since looked into it and wondered of the dangers of alienating non-Landmarkees in one's life. How do you respond to this and is it really a good way of meeting hot chicks?
CP: Landmark will not solve every problem, but it will give you tools to get what you want. Even ass. With that, do you really need those other people who want to hold you back? Hint: most people don't really want you to change and succeed in your dreams.
Q: Apart from Fight Club, which of your books would you most like to see made into a film?
CP: The word is my fourth book, Choke, will start filming as a movie late this summer. Don't ask me about casting. Beyond that, Invisible Monsters and Diary will both become movies in the near-enough future. But I would still love to see Survivor make the jump. But, hey, that's not my biggest problem.
Q: I'm going to ask the one that everyone is thinking but is too bloody chicken to ask: How do you pronounce your surname? Is it a) Pa-lah-ni-uck b) Paula-nick c) Paula-nook d) Pah-loo-nick e) None of the above. PS. I love all your books, except Invisible Monsters, which annoyed the crap out of me. Or was that the point?
CP: It's Paula-nick. And sorry about Monsters, I've given up trying to be all things to all people. Still, you would not believe the crowds who tell me that Monsters is their favourite book.
Q: What's the single most sick and depraved incident you have ever been involved in yourself?
CP: As if I'd put it here. No way. I'll write a book about it someday, sell it for cash!
Q: When reading your novels I am reminded of a picture I once saw of Nelson Algren looking through the window of a bar full of freaks/the damned/the lonely, to observe, note and hopefully use whatever he witnesses in his quest for great fiction. I was wondering: are your characters observed in the same impartial way, or are the experiences in your work more subjective, more from your imagination?
CP: There are too many books written about the What Is, the "real" world. My goal is always to show What If. So I listen for the amazing story when I meet anyone. Even strangers will tell you incredible things, usually because they don't know you. So all my stories (well, most) are true. I just have a very low threshold for boredom.
Q: I take a certain strange comfort in the idea of destroying yourself and all your material possessions as a means of finding yourself, so to speak. So, in an age where it's all about what you own, do you think humanity still has a fighting chance, or are we going to self-destruct in the not too distant future in order to get things back on track?
CP: As a lower-class kid, I was raised to think success would be owning stuff. Having that great job, too. Now I find my parents' dream was wrong. You never really own anything. And you're never really finished as a person. Still, you can be stuck, trapped by possessions and an outdated self image. Other than that, I think humanity is perfect. We're making the same mistakes we made 1,000 years ago. So they must be the right ones. So relax.
Q: Do you meet conservatives, religious right-wingers especially? Do they approach you? If so, what happens?
CP: In almost all my work, I try to re-invent Christian images and stories and themes. You'd be amazed by the letters I get from young Christians who recognise this and enjoy it.
Q: I recently saw your Postcards From The Future DVD. You made a lot of points which resonated deep within me in the talks shown on that DVD, and were articulated exceedingly well. One thing which particularly struck a chord was when you were talking about the importance of stories, especially on a personal level - our memories are stories we cling to, objects mean something more when we have a story to attach to them and so on. How important do you feel fiction is in comparison to memories and personal stories?
CP: Human beings will always live their lives according to stories. I think the best skill we can have is the ability to craft our own lives. To step away from the stories we're given by our culture, then do the research and create our own life story: about our past, our present and our future. Without this skill - storytelling and writing - we will always be forced to accept someone else's story.
Q: Like a lot of people, I was introduced to your books through the film version of Fight Club. It blew my mind, and as I know it is quite different to the novel, I wondered if you could tell me how much involvement you had in the making of the film.
CP: Sorry, I was just a tourist. I even dragged friends down to watch the process because I wanted them to be part of my new life, as well. My big project is always the next book. But, hell, Fincher did a great job. How can I complain?
Q: Back in September, you told the Independent: "Americans don't want to be criticised right now. They just won't hear it. The day of 9/11, I realised this was happening. You could not have published Fight Club on September 12 or since. The American public is not going to have any sympathy or understanding for subversive art or arguments for a long, long time."
I would say these things describe a spoilt (national) character - one that needs to be cured. Do you agree?
CP: I agree, but you don't cure anybody if they won't take the treatment. So it is time to appear charming and entertaining and seduce people into looking at reality through a new lens. I think Orwell would agree.
Q: You said in a recent interview that if you do not get out a book a year, you don't feel that you are working hard enough, but that you also feel that each new book is better than the last. I disagree. As much as I admire your ideas, I find the style lacking every time I come to newer material of yours. Does it enter your mind that perhaps a book a year is going to be a hard schedule to maintain and that your quality will suffer?
CP: Thanks for sharing. Here's your answer: the next time you see me, put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. That should make you feel better.
Personally, I think my writing is getting better. Some parts of Fight Club I can't stand.
Q: What advice would you have for a young writer who is attempting to form a cohesive story from the hash of ideas he has had over past years? He feels there is a way to mould them into something not unreadable by another person, but finds inspiration comes and goes like fungal foot? Techniques? Exercises? Tricks? Please don't tell me it's just steadfast determination.
CP: The story, Guts, is a good example of this. It's really just three short-short anecdotes I've known for years. But by recognising a pattern or common theme (eg shame, loneliness, wanking) I could weld the three together into a short story. So look at your ideas, and find a common theme or even common character (that's how I turned a bunch of stories into Fight Club - they all had this Tyler guy in them). Your common theme will let you bundle your short scenes into a good story (or book).
Q: In your books, especially Fight Club, Choke and Diary, you capture the feeling of life slipping away from you by showing snapshots of the monotony of a character's routine. Was there any period of your own life, perhaps before you succeeded as an author, that led to your ability to capture this feeling so well? Some have drawn similarities between your work and the work of Iain Banks. Any thoughts on this?
CP: After you turn 30, this "slipping away" feeling is almost constant. Maybe that's why I didn't start writing until I realised I wanted my life to accomplish more than just paying the bills. It's this dissatisfaction that leads to any change, any action, so it's natural that a story would start there. And sorry, I haven't read Banks.
Q: You've written about grown men beating each other to a pulp for pleasure, horribly disfigured/ trans-sexual supermodels, poetry-related cot death, people shoving stuff up their bottoms for sexual gratification and huge pornography landfills. So when's the kids book coming out? Any chance of a collaboration with JK Rowling? Harry Potter and the Magical Lubed Candle, anyone?
CP: Only in my dreams.
Q: I've read that you're a fan of Denis Johnson. Have you ever considered writing something with a futuristic bent?
CP: I will cross that bridge when I come to it, but my secret lust is to write a stage play. The limitation of setting and character and time... all that seems like such a challenge.
Next year will be the short stories in a book called Haunted. A year after that will be a book about the rules of Minimalist writing that I use. Beyond that (ie 2006), God only knows.
For now, I need to go change the oil in my pick-up. Then go do my writing. Workshop is tonight, and I want to have something really good (funny, dark, offensive) ready.
Thanks for the questions - and for giving Guts a read. Over and out....