So the basic essence of Snuff is this: Cassie Wright - aging porn queen, the star of such films as World Whore One, The Italian Handjob, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nuts, Moby Dicked, and The Wizard of Ass - wants to make one last great film. A film to end all films. A film where she fucks, sucks, and trades carnal knowledge with 600 different men. This book is about those 600 men. Or, to be specific, three of them.The book takes place almost entirely in the backstage waiting area of this porn shoot. Six-hundred men, tagged, de-robed, trying to do something about their flaccid states. Getting their fingers sticky with BBQ chip grease. Popping viagra like wildberry skittles. Their skin covered in bronzer, their pores, their hairplugs. Palahniuk makes everything feel very dirty. Like you're lifting up the rubber mat in a restaurant kitchen and looking underneath. The underbelly of society. It was gross in a fascinating, salt-on-a-slug kind of way.
However, I don't really know if I liked it. Not much happens. Everything that does happen is predictable. After about twenty pages, you kind of get it. The rambling facts about porn and death and hairspray. The crisp language. The four narrators that sound exactly the same. It might have worked better as a short story.
But, then again, it was also kind of awesome. A book about porn, junk food, insecurities, and a room filled with 600 dirty, horny, lonely men... what's not to love?
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