Chuck Palahniuk was kind enough to do an interview prior to our Damned Book Night at Hal & Mal’s on Thursday, October 20th. Enjoy.
Lisa: I read how you started out as a journalist and finally after some intense creative writing workshops, you faced your fears of writing fiction. Why did you decide to start writing fiction?
Chuck: In 1990 my friends were moving from their apartments to “starter” houses, and I got swept along in the Home Improvement mania – those million trips to Home Depot, Ikea, the dump. I bought the first house I looked at: a 300-square-foot shack with no foundation. It sat on cinderblocks. The roof leaked. I agreed to a sixty-thousand-dollar loan at ten percent interest. I was screwed and trapped in this damp box with no resale value. Worse, I found it had no television or radio reception, and the cable company refused to service our backwoods neighborhood. My only pastime was books, and going to the library, but I found so few novels that I enjoyed. It was out of a resigned desperation that I tried to write the kind of book I so wanted to read. In summary: my worst mistake gave me my greatest gift. That terrible house gave me a new life.
Lisa: Why do you write about things that make many people uncomfortable?
Chuck: Do I make you uncomfortable? Well, you can thank Tom Spanbauer for that. Tom taught the workshop where I began writing, and he calls his method “Dangerous Writing.” This is my interpretation, but Tom’s belief is that challenging, personal, upsetting topics are the only ones worth writing about. Writing fiction is a sort-of therapy that allows you to vent demons in your life, using the mask of an invented character. There’s no guarantee that your work will sell, but you can find enough reward in the creative process to keep you writing despite the initial lack of external compensation. Slowly, as you bring your demons to light, other people confess to struggling with the same issues. You find you’ve expressed something that many people shared, but that no one could discuss.
Lisa: I have been reading Stranger Than Fiction and Fugitives & Refugees. I have been to Portland and also know that it is an unusual place with distinct people, but reading about Portland from a “Portlander” is great! How much do you think Portland itself has shaped your fiction? You have lived there most of your adult life, right?
Chuck: Portland is no longer my primary residence, but it is one of the cities where I spend most of my time. Portland, Seattle, Spokane, Missoula, Boise, these are all western, almost mythic cities where eastern young people move in their search for identity. They exist like a late-20th Century version of West Egg, the town where Nick Carraway, the narrator in “The Great Gatsby” found himself and lost his innocence. After a few years of adventures, Nick moved back to the Midwest. Likewise, many of the young idealists who fled to Portland are moving back to lives elsewhere. Not to sound too wistful, but Portland is a good incubator, with great restaurants — amazing restaurants — but I grew up as a bare-foot, dirt-eating, fly-swatting, small-town kid, in Burbank, Washington, population 600, and I want to see more of the world. I want to live everywhere, thus Madison Spencer, the narrator in “Damned” has homes in every major city.
Lisa: Your most devoted readers seem to be in their 20s and 30s. Some say that these readers are not the kind one would suspect to be the most avid readers. Do you agree with that description?
Chuck: Honestly? Reading is the pastime of last resort. No, seriously, it takes such effort and time, and the typical pay-off isn’t worth the 400-page hassle. People in their 20’s and 30’s have such vital options for their free time. Their lives are filled with friends, sex, parties. For them to read a book, the story had better offer as much reward as any social event. Younger people – early teens, children – read for power; they want narratives such as Harry Potter or X-Men that show powerless persons gaining power. Older people, beyond middle age, say, read for comfort. They want assurance that life is ultimately calm and justice prevails. Although it’s not obvious, my books provide stories of emotional children becoming self-directed adults and, usually, choosing a life partner. It’s this romantic quest that drives most of the 20- and 30-somethings. See? There, I’ve dissected myself. What a mess.
Lisa: Over the years you have developed a tradition of staying in touch with some of your biggest fans, some of them booksellers, by sending what I call “care packages” prior to the release of a new book. I remember getting boxes full of imaginative goodies in theme with the book with an accompanying advanced reader copy and card at Lemuria. I have never heard of any other author doing that. Could you tell us how this all came about?
Chuck: As impossible as this sounds: I miss my day job. I miss having work connections to other people and plotting projects together and drinking coffee. That said, I do like not having to share a smelly bathroom with others, or bicker over who didn’t clean the coffee pot or the shared fridge. Still, I needed to feel like part of a professional community, and I wanted to show some appreciation to booksellers and readers. The boxes and the tour events also occur as a neutral “third” element – like a shared child or dog — that allows me to interact with people. I can’t talk to them about my books; that’s too risky and upsetting… what if they didn’t like this particular book? But candy, or a surprise, that’s okay to connect over. I ask, “Did you like the candy?” because I can’t ask, “Did you like the book?”
Lisa: Once the date for a Jackson visit was confirmed, you expressed your desire to visit the Eudora Welty House. Could you tell us a little bit about your interest in Eudora Welty?
Chuck: It’s all physical proof that writers are human beings, and I love that. Like Anne Rice vampires, most writers have no idea how to behave as writers so they seek out other writers to study. This same impulse drives me crazy when I stay in luxury hotels that offer a “Writers Suite” reserved for touring writers and actors, people who are promoting some book. Those suites always have a wall filled with books signed by the authors in question so you know that you’re more-or-less sharing a bed with Paula Deen and Lee Childs and Snooki and David Sedaris and Jane Fonda and Maya Angelou — quite the slumber party. If the book “Cujo” is signed and on the shelf, then Stephen King used the toilet you’re using. The idea is glamorous and disgusting, and it drives me to collect all the stray hairs and scabs of dead skin. I pull back the mattress pad and study the stains. Hmmm, was Nora Roberts the bed wetter? Did Rick Moody suffer the nocturnal emission? Plus, now I have enough of Ann Coulter’s hair to stuff a voodoo doll.
Lisa: Have you ever been to Mississippi before? Do you have any expectations?
Chuck: I’ve seen “Showboat” about a hundred times. You people sing all day long, right? Damn, that looks like fun. I’m bringing my tambourine.
Lisa: Do you have any advice for first-time Palahniuk readers?
Chuck: Pace yourself. Don’t expect much, and you won’t be disappointed. Don’t give up when messy stuff happens. It’s okay to laugh instead of puking. This overall advice will serve you well in all aspects of life.
Lisa: Could you tell our Lemuria readers a little bit about Damned since it will only be on the shelf two days before our October 20 event?
Chuck: “Damned” is a magic laugh-fest of butterflies wrapped in a buttery, sugary layer of rich, dark chocolate. That, and it’s all about Death. But don’t let me spoil the surprise. You’ll find out the truth about Death soon enough. Some of you, sooner than you think.
Lisa: Lemuria has been working hard to create a really special night for Damned. We have all enjoyed reading your work, discussing it and writing about it on our blog. Can you give our Lemuria readers an idea of what to expect on October 20?
Chuck: Again, set your sights low. Expect me to yap at you. I’ll read some fictional form of excrement. There will be contests and prizes. Live sex acts on stage. The usual. Finally – because boys only tease the girls they love – we’ll stick pins in the voodoo doll.
Click here for details for the October 20 event with Chuck Palahniuk.
JX//RX
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Chances are you or somebody you know is eating vegan. The holidays present quite a challenge if you begin to think about preparing meals and snacks that are free of milk, cheese, eggs, and meat. From New Year’s Eve to Independence Day to Cinco de Mayo to Hanukkah and Christmas, Simpson has outlined simple, no nonsense recipes that anyone can make. If you’re not already a vegan, you might think that it is not all that hard after perusing Quick & Easy Vegan Celebrations.
This is a big, ambitious book clearly intended to establish Murakami as a major figure in world literature. Although his earlier books bristle with philosophical asides and literary allusions (Western, mainly), most critics treated him as a lightweight, a wise guy who never took anything seriously. Wind-Up Bird Chronicle almost self-consciously deals with a wide spectrum of heavy subjects: the transitory nature of romantic love, the evil vacuity of contemporary politics and, most provocative of all, the legacy of Japan’s violent aggression in World War II. But it all begins with a man losing his cat. Then his wife. (Then his mind?)
The transitory nature of the book, to me, was one of the most intriguing elements of Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. Yes, it is a big book, but one that is constantly changing. At times, I felt so far away from the original premise that I wondered if I was still reading the same book at all; oddly enough, instead of feeling muddled by the development of the book, I felt refreshed, glad to be always moving; leaving characters and plot lines behind; going deeper into the rabbit hole.
“All good things, as they say in the trade, must come to an end sooner or later. Please accept my genuine, my honest and heartfelt thank you for the kindness that you have displayed to me during my 58 years. It has been one genuine pleasure to be associated with such a magnificent university.”
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Coming from a district in Polish Lithuania in the 1700s, Tadeusz Andrzei Bonawentura Kosciuszko’s (correctly pronounced Kosh-CHOOSH-ko) name was “Americanized” after living in Philadelphia for several years into its current pronunciation as we know it in Mississippi. But did you know that Tadeusz Kosciuszko was what we might call an overachiever?
