I just read Chuck Palahniuk’s new book Rant: An Oral Biography of Buster Casey. I am a huge fan of Palahniuk’s cynical stories. Reminding me of Vonnegut, Palahniuk spins deep stories about how fucked up the world is and how poor society has become. My favorite book of his, Fight Club is the perfect example of this type of storytelling. In his latest book, Palahniuk does something I’ve never seen done, by him or any other author. The way he tells the story is so unique. The novel is about Buster Casey, but it doesn’t follow like a traditional novel. It is not a story told by the main character, or even one person who knew the main character. Instead it is told by several people who knew the main character. It reads like a series of interviews with various people, almost like several witnesses telling the story of an accident that has happened, telling what they know in each scene until you reach the conclusion. The story was good, but what made the book was the way it was told. It couldn’t have been told any other way. Palahniuk’s outlook on the world still shows through via quotes the “witnesses” give about their friend Buster Casey, whether it be about his general character or actual things he said (“The future you have tomorrow won’t be the same future you had yesterday.”) These people, like the men in Fight Club are constantly looking for more in life, death, relationships, and challenging the status quo. These themes are seen all throughout his books. In case you are interested, here is a synopsis from amazon.com:

Buster Casey, destined to live fast, die young and murder as many people as he can, is the rotten seed at the core of Palahniuk’s comically nasty eighth novel (after Haunted; Lullaby; Diary; etc.). Set in a future where urbanites are segregated by strict curfews into Daytimers and Nighttimers, the narrative unfolds as an oral history comprising contradictory accounts from people who knew Buster. These include childhood friends horrified by the boy’s macabre behavior (getting snakes, scorpions and spiders to bite him and induce instant erections; repeatedly infecting himself with rabies), policemen and doctors who had dealings with the rabies “superspreader”; and Party Crashers, thrill-seeking Nighttimers who turn city streets into demolition derby arenas. After liberally infecting his hometown peers with rabies, Buster hits the big city and takes up with the Party Crashers. A series of deaths lead to a police investigation of Buster (long-since known as “Rant”—the sound children make while vomiting) that peaks just as Buster apparently commits suicide in a blaze of car-crash glory. This dark religious parable (there’s even a resurrection) from the master of grotesque excess may not attract new readers, but it will delight old ones.