"Snuff" is a stupid book. I'm not going to mince words on this. Having read all of Chuck Palahniuk's novels, I'd put this one squarely at the bottom rubbing elbows with "Invisible Monsters" and the main narrative of "Haunted".

Snuff is the tale of three different men all waiting for their turn at a record breaking gang-bang. None of the three are initially referred to by name, just by number. This can be disorienting since they all sound exactly the same in tone, that is to say, they all sound like Palahniuk. He shoudl stay away from multi-character narrative, it does not play to his strengths.

Like a few of his other books, "Choke" being the worst offender, "Snuff" stretches plausibility until it snaps. There are no characters in this novel that talk like recognizable human beings, and it only takes a quick googling of reviews done by people in the sex industry to determine that the author apparently didn't even do the basic research necessary to deal with the topic of porn in an insightful manner.

Everything in "Snuff" is cartoonishly, ridiculously excessive for no reason I can determine other than ineffectual shock value. The twists are obnoxiously convenient, the jokes don't really work, and the observations made are trite. For a book that can be read in an afternoon, this book felt too long.