damned vulpine

Chuck Palahniuk, Austin, 9-24

Chuck Palahniuk's fan site warns, "you should show up at least an hour early if you want a seat or a decent place to stand. Make no mistakes, Chuck packs the house." They aren't kidding. Chuck is on a tour promoting the paperback version of his newest fiction work, "Diary," and came to the Barnes & Noble at the Arboretum in Austin. (For those coming from The Cult, the Arboretum is a large shopping area in northwest Austin along U.S. 183/Research Boulevard where all the shops are surrounded and canopied by huge trees.)

The guy's t-shirt with the Kurt Vonnegut definition of "granfalloon" fit the night well. Thankfully, most people were on their best behavior. The grand hall of the store had been cleared by staff for Chuck fans, with the green "Fiction" sign hanging over Chuck's head the whole time.

I was lucky to get a close parking spot at 7 p.m., a half hour before Chuck was scheduled to speak. He was already signing books, but heading in the door, all I saw was this:

Wocka wocka. Other fans behind me wondered aloud whether they should stand in the line that had formed. "Maybe we should just rush the stage," they said. "That'd be the Tyler Durden thing to do," I mumbled. They laughed. I've got a million of them.

I have to give credit to the Barnes & Noble people at the Arboretum store for keeping things organized. Chuck thanked them at the very end of his speech.

On the way in, if you had books for Chuck to sign, you were supposed to pick up a slip of paper with a letter on it. Instead of making everyone stand in line the whole time, they called out the letters. I would have been happier with "B," really.

Chuck took a break in between signings and his presentation.

The manager of the local store announced the game plan to the crowd. She brought up a cardboard box that she said had been sent to the store in advance, with instructions not to open it until Chuck got there. She made it sound as if someone other than Chuck sent it there, and the audience was about to get covered in anthrax spores. We'd find out what was in the box later.

It was hard to get good camera shots. People found all the good spots to stand, and most of them were on the second-floor balcony overlooking the hall, or standing to Chuck's side or behind him.

Then, it was time for Chuck to come back. While he lingered by the restrooms, the manager said that Chuck would sign any of his books or DVDs of Fight Club, but "no loose paper or body parts, please."

Chuck warmed things up with a few amusing anecdotes, "to see that the mic works."

Thankfully, this was the only time that the mic appeared to stop working, though I think it only decided to slip out of its stand for a moment.

Some wondered whether Chuck was going to read a new selection from his latest work in progress, "Haunted," but he read "Guts," a coming-of-age tale of anal masturbation and unfortunate accidents. As with most readings, one person fainted (I didn't see it happen) and a few reportedly felt sick afterward (but not me.) Chuck announced that as of that reading, 58 had fainted, one lost control of bladder function (in Beverly Hills) and one lost control of her bowels (at the previous night in Coral Gables, Florida.)

Chuck was unapologetic about what classic literature he rips off to form the basis for his stories. Like "Fight Club" is basically "The Great Gatsby" updated (and the objective hero and the narrator made to be the same person,) Chuck said "Guts" uses Edgar Allan Poe's "The Premature Burial" as a basis.

Chuck did his standard plug of minimalist writing and Amy Hempel, his favorite author, and said her short story, "In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried" is still one of his favorites. Later on in Q&A, he would also plug "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson as a story he'd want to have with him on a deserted island.

Chuck revealed the contents of the box, saying that to make the question and answer period of book stops interesting to him, he found it helped "to give away something totally stupid." So he gave away gory rubber severed limbs to everyone who asked a question. They make great dog chew toys, he said, especially for the reaction they get from other people.

People were proud and happy to get these severed limbs. Some of the questions were pretty good, and I wish I'd brought my notebook to take note of some of them.

B&N stores often have these posters on the walls with the covers of famous books. The one plugging "The Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath was in the Starbucks. I figure Chuck got a better deal having "Catch-22" nearby.

Two sergeants from the Austin Police Department guarded Chuck all night. They were cool cops.

Some people used their camera cel phones to take pictures of Chuck. These pictures were taken by a three-year-old Canon PowerShot A10. I need to hold the camera steadier, or something.

By 10:00, the numbers of people waiting to get their books signed had thinned considerably. It was 10:45 by the time I got through, but there were still maybe 30 people there. I figure he got out by midnight.

I am a huge nerd. Before shaking hands, I told Chuck he was two weeks behind Larry Flynt in Austin. "Oh yeah? Did you get a book signed?" Yeah, and he's still in that gold-plated wheelchair, probably the same one he's always had. It's not motorized, but he's always got a flunky to push him around.

Chuck laughed. I got a million of them.

Posted by j at September 25, 2004 03:52 PM