Initially, when we were first assigned the book Killing Yourself To Live, I checked over the front and back covers and seemed to really be interested by the blurbs and synopsis I found there. The book seemed quirky and interesting and I looked forward to reading it. It wasn't a bad book to read-it moved along at a nice pace and was very interesting-but I'm not sure I would recommend it. I say this only because I don't think it fulfills what it promises.
Chuck is given the assignment of crossing the country to visit all the scenes where famous musicians have died, usually tragically. It makes you think you are going to go on a great adventure with him and you are going to find out all types of insider information. I was expecting him to describe the scenes and the situations of each rock star's demise with great detail. And he does, sort of, but more than a book about dead musicians, it is a book about Chuck.
During our first review early into the book, I mentioned I thought Chuck was a pompous douchebag. After finishing the book, I stand by my original thoughts on him. I'm not dogging on his writing style, because I do enjoy the way he writes, even if it is a trifle bit scattered and attention deficit disorder-ed. Chuck is an amusing writer, but the book seems more like a 235 page personal ad than a travelogue (which is what I am assuming was what he was attempting to write).
That being said, if this book were billed more as a memoir and I was expecting to read all about Chuck I probably would have enjoyed it more, but the blurbs led me to believe I was going to be reading this great epic about why musicians tend to find great fame in death and in that goal I think Klosterman fell flat. I know more about his drug habits and the fact he likes gravy and is incapable of any real relationships than I do about the motives or emotions surrounding a slew of musical deaths.
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