It’s all doom and gloss in the afterlife

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Chuck Palahniuk is modern literature’s version of Caravaggio’s Narcissus speckled liberally with the content of a particularly unpleasant nasal cavity. Whether writing about battling existential ennui by ramming fists into random people, Fight Club, or documenting the trials and tribulations of ageing porn stars and their progeny as they try to set a world record, Snuff, Palahniuk’s power has always been the ability to give the grotesque a glint of beauty. With Doomed he manages to work his latest instalment, a story in which a pudgy 13-year-old girl must grapple with the machinations of Satan, into a glossy vulgarity...

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