Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story

I finished reading this book by Chuck Klosterman called Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story. I enjoyed it. I laughed out loud a lot and that's important sometimes when you are reading a book that supposed to be about this guy visiting cities and cites where rock stars have died, and the cultural significance of these artists, their lives, and deaths. But it actually just ended up being this guy, driving across the country, going to these places, and inevitably beginning to think about all of the women he's been involved with over the course of his life. It touches on his friends and childhood as well, but only in how they may have affected all of his relationships in one way or another. This is an author I can relate to. An entertaining read.

Chuck Klosterman has the kind of literary journalism style that is usualy only found on self-indulgant blogs or pop-culture magazines that people forget about once they reach drinking age. While his writing style will keep the reader interested, it seems he doesn't have the ability to write about anything without writing about himself first.
Reading the back cover, one would think that this book was about death, drugs, and rock n roll, however Chuck only mentions those things in between rambling about all the women he's loved before and why he can't let go of any of them. Future ex-girlfriends: beware. Chuck needs to let go and grow a pair.
If you're looking for a good rock 'n roll experience, go elsewhere. If you're looking for another reason to hate rock journalism, check this book out. If you happen to run into Chuck Klosterman on the street, punch him in the face for me. I'm sure he'll write about it.

This is the first Chuck Klosterman book I've read, but I was incredibly disappointed. The first chapter provides evidence that he can write. So I can only assume the rest of the book was low effort.

The pages of classic rock history are lame. The drug use is boring and a bit desperate.

I think I'll give Klosterman another try on some early work, because I do think he is capable...but wow. This book is full of suck.

Killing Yourself to Live is a stand out in Klosterman's career. It is not his Spin writings, it is not Fargo Rock City, it is not Sex Drugs and cocoa Puffs, it is a stand out. You don't always have to agree with Klosterman's ideas on music, movies, pop culture ideas. Instead, take the book for what it is, a story about relationships. After reading this book, I took a long hard look at the women in my life and really thought long and hard about the lessons that I could learn from this book.

Klosterman says that the book is 85% of a true story and I believe that considering that the stories are so heartfelt, warm, and sometimes heart breaking. I've given it out to several female friends who have come back to me and said things related to the book and said how similar they are to our relationships. The book is universal. Seriously, go read it. It is amazing.

I bought this book after enjoying Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City. The concept of the book (taking a long road trip to locations of rock and roll deaths) is excellent and if executed correctly would have been great book. I expected insights into the deaths and the locations that could only be found by exploring them up close and in depth, which is something most of us will not have the opportunity to do. Instead, Chuck Klosterman has a road trip where he waxes about his many dysfunctional relationships with women in between destinations. There are a few spots of humor and insight, but not enough to overcome the off subject exposition. The best analogy I can come up with would be buying a cookbook, and then having the author devote the majority of the book to what kind of car he drives to the grocery store.

This "journalist" is not qualified to comment on the multitude of musical artists he bashes; this fact is obvious by the evidence that the book wanders through his boyish experiences with women--which are, pathetic.

Aside from his boring, self-indulgent babble regarding first-time female experiences and pointless encounters with drugs and new-found friends, he blatantly insults some of the most legendary artists of all time, downplaying their careers and success (ie, relates the career of Waylon Jennings to the Dukes of Hazzard theme song). As the book progressed (if you want to call it that), the author continues to demonstrate his lack of research and/or knowledge about any of the individuals he speaks of, showing his lack of interest and his own immaturity in being able to draw any meaningful takeaways.

The author, for instance, goes to the Skynyrd plane wreck site, but does nothing once he gets there. Thanks for sharing. Profound. Do you have any first-hand experiences with members of this band? Then you just aren't qualified to say a word.

I couldn't endure the last few chapters. It went in the trashcan. Don't bother. It's the worst book I've ever encountered. And by the way, love how it is plastered with positive quotes from the press on the inside cover. I'd love to read the full reviews, because I am certain these blurbs are nothing but cherrypicking. A young, uninformed egomaniac who needs to go back to writing single newspaper paragraphs about local talent.

The vastly overpraised Klosterman weighs in on various women friends and girlfriends while riffing on Led Zep, Sid Vicious, cocaine, and other hipster-oriented topics. As in his earlier books, he has a Camille Paglia-like tendency to make completely indefensible pat assertions. He's mildly amusing, sort of like Dave Barry with a post-baby-boomer's taste in music. And his capacity for self-absorption does make it easy to dismiss him as a male Elizabeth Wurtzel. This book should be bought used as cheaply as possible or borrowed from your local library. It's not worth the price of admission.

Having read Klosterman's other two books and loving them, I was excited to hear his take on the phenomenon of rock stars finding fame through premature death. Instead, I got a book that devotes roughly 20% of its pages to this topic and leaves the rest for Chuck to fill with self-pity and neurotic tales of heartbreak.

It's impossible not to compare this book with Hornby's High Fidelity in its discussion of music as a vehicle to examine past relationships. However, where Hornby succeeded in creating a lighthearted, funny novel filled with introspection that rings true and original, Klosterman's attempt comes across as a desperate and unsuccessful attempt to exorcise his demons at the expense of this reader's patience.

I loved Fargo Rock City and Coca Puffs, but thought this was a little bit weaker going. The writing is great, but the story as such is just kind of not there. My personal feeling is that Klosterman needs to get a little more honest if he wants to attack this type of subject matter. It's still pretty funny, but feels a little forced. Personally, I liked the book Wrecking Crew by John Albert much more this year. Still a fan of Kosterman, but Wrecking Crew just seemed a better book.

This book turned out more like an entertaining road trip than offer an insight into the deaths of rock stars, with the bit about Cobain being the best written part of the book. The rest of it is just like listening to your girl-crazy hipster friend who just came back from a road trip - it definitely made me wish I worked at spin so I could drink my way across the USA while yammering on about why I think what music I like is clearly poignant. What a charmed life these 'critics' lead!

I purchased this book after reading, and enjoying, Fargo Rock City.
I was expecting a book about music and fallen rock Gods. Instead, I got a mashed together book that I can't believe was written by the same guy that wrote Fargo Rock City. Please note: IF YOUR INTEREST IS IN READING ABOUT MUSICIANS THIS IS NOT YOUR BOOK. If your interest is poor-me droning from a guy that avoided his initial assignment, this book is for you. A huge disappointment.

I honestly question the intelligence of everyone that keeps saying how terrible this novel is. It's without a doubt one of my favorites ever. It makes you think (which I suppose isn't very enjoyable for some people), and it makes you laugh. Klosterman goes off on these tangents that are somehow concurrently overwhelmingly thought-provoking and satirically hilarious. And, yes, I suppose you could consider Chuck to be "narcissistic," but first you should consider that he was writing a quasi-autobiography, for God's sake. Before you read the book, you should realize that it's as much about the trip itself as it is about his research for the article he was writing. If all you care about is the article, then read the article and not the book.

A lot of people have knocked this book because it's not about Klosterman's trip to see sites of rock-star deaths, and more about his relationships with girls. But he says this in the first few pages!

What people should be complaining about is how it goes from a really good read to "concluding" so quickly, like the floor just drops out from under it. It's good, just not great like SD&C and Fargo. I think if he added about 20 more pages to properly conclude the book, people would be happier about it.

Never mind the naysayers. This is either the best book I ever read or the worst. Either way, I couldn't put it down. The author, no doubt, accomplishes everything he set out to do.

In a way, Killing Yourself seems to accomplish what the writers and producers of Seinfeld attempted: while claiming to be about a particular event and experience (a cross-country trip to visit various sites of dubious rock-n-roll notoriety), Klosterman has succeeded in writing a book about nothing. That's quite an accomplishment, I think.

This book is a fantastic read, cover to cover.. As in all of Klosterman book's this one will make you think and laugh. His dealings with the opposite sex will have many male readers relating on what he went through on this journey. The music and pop cultures references are as good and as fresh as ever adding insight on some of the most obscure topics yet. KISS Solo Albums???

I dare you to find a flaw in this book if you decide to read it, which I think you should. You can learn a little bit here and there, but more importantly you will laugh. I can't wait for him to put out another book in a few years, his books are just that good.

So very po-mo. Ostensibly about a writer at Spin visiting places where rock stars died. However, that was just a sub-plot as the book was about Chuck Klosterman. It was somewhat interesting but seemed like more of a blog than a book.

Great book. Love all of Chuck's insights and way of looking at the world and his relationships. One complaint: overuse of the words "aforementioned" and "myriad". Those words should be used rarely, as they are usually penned by people trying to sound smart. Chuck - we know you're intelligent, you don't need those words.

I was fascinated when I saw the synopsis for this book, and I generally enjoyed it. However, I agree with many of the previous posters in that I don't care about Chuck Klosterman's love life. I found myself bored and annoyed with these passages and wondered why he spent so much time obsessing about women who didn't return the favor.

i absolutely adore this book! it has amazing quotes that just struck me. it's not so much about the artists that died-that was for the magazine he was writing for, this was about his journey, thoughts, and happenings on the way. it's an awesome book, and it actually makes you think, which is a beautiful thing today.

An awesome book, was SOOO much fun. You really love the author by the end of it and he really makes you feel like you are apart of the whole thing. His randomness is awsome and the only problem that I had with the book was the comment he made about Shannon Hoon.

The premise sounded promising, but Chuck Klosterman is a hack who oughta tear himself away from the television and People magazine and pick up some classic literature. I can say with all honesty that if Spin had given me this assignment, the results would have been far more intriguing.

As much as I wanted to enjoy this book, I found it intolerably annoying and self-indulgent. What a shame.

This is by far my favorite book by Klosterman. It was the second book I read by him, but he was definitely more relatable than in "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs." I would definitely recommend it as a first read to anyone who wants to get into his works.

My God, Chuck Klosterman has confused himself with the supposed subject of his own book!! What a narcissist!! The fact that such a weak and unimaginative writer has a column in Esquire says much about the low level of contemporary American public discourse. Avoid this one.

I flipped through this book, and it looked like this could be a fun read, with lots of "insider" music references. The stated premise is that the author goes on a roadtrip to visit the actual sites where "famous" (some more than others) rock musicians have died.

"Killing Yourself to Live" (235 pages) is written by rock journalist Chuck Klosterman. It could've been a good book: Klosterman drops names like Interpol, Elliot Smith and Falco (just to pick those) at the drop of a hat. But instead of writing an irreverent book, the author somehow turns the book into an evaluation of his relationships with various women, and how weird and complicated it all is. After a while, the book becomes totally self-absorbed and I really had to drag myself to even finish the book. That said, there were a couple of passages that made me smile, such as Klosterman's visit to Graceland, concluding that "20 million Ellvis fans can, in fact, be wrong". Then there is the author's premise (and analysis) of how Radiohead's "Kid A" album (released in October, 2000) foreshadowed 9/11. I don't buy into the premise, but it made for a couple of entertaining pages.

Too bad the book wasn't more like that throughout. Instead, the author felt he had to share with us what his ups and downs are with the female species. As if we care! The most ironic line in the book comes when the author describes his dislike for LA, among other reasons, because people there are "unyieldingly narcissistic". You don't say Chuck!

The ongoing trend since the succes of Dave Egger's "Fartbreaking Stink of Unsubstantial Idiocy" is to serve us a plate of "poor me look at my pop cultural wounds and little private sufferings". Enough. Please, agents and publishers, stop cut the ink, end the rants, let these overprivileged wankers settle into obscurity.

Why do we care about Chuck Klosterman? There is nothing truly remarkable about his life. I disagree with 97 percent of what he has to say about music. The way he holds his political cards close to his chest makes me suspicious. And yet, once I start one of his books, I can’t put it down. Killing Yourself to Live is no exception. It takes us on a drug-fueled odyssey across the United States with stops at famous rock and roll death sites (the seedy hotel where Sid Vicious did himself in; the burnt patch in Rhode Island that used to be a bar where dozens lost their lives thanks to Great White’s trying to re-live their, ahem, glory days; the patch of ground Buddy Holly’s plane collided with; Cobain’s death room, etc.). As is the case with many young-ish writers today (to wit: Sarah Vowell), Klosterman’s book’s stated purpose serves merely as an ostensible vehicle for the author to write about himself, his life, his loves, etc. One might be tempted to write this off as narcissism or myopia, but Klosterman somehow manages to wrest insights into the human condition out of the twisted, emotional menagerie that is his psyche. Yes, he’s self-absorbed, but in such a fashion that his sharing it with us feels like a gift…of sorts.