This is supposed to be a novel but it is really a collection of stories strung together by a premise. The premise is a group of writers locked away from the world to work on their masterpiece for three months. But these people aren't really writers, what they want is a blockbuster that will bring them the big bucks and they will do whatever it takes even if it means cannibalism and self-mutilation.
So that is the framework for the stories, a group of people starving and hurting themselves in order to make their ordeal more salable.
Despite the title, there are no ghost stories. The stories are pretty much straight up horror. They are gruesome and disgusting, full of nasty smells and nasty sights. But not really what you could call shocking. I already knew that those pool pumps can suck your guts out thru your rectum. I already knew that some hot springs are hot enough to cook you alive. I already knew that when you get burned your skin can slough off. I already knew that the process of decay involves insects and liquefaction and bloat. I already knew that a lot of people are perverts so I wasn't surprised to read about men having sex with a CPR dummy or whatever. (The movie "American Pie" pretty much established that men will screw anything.) I already knew that bums stink. I already knew that people like Typhoid Mary who have to be isolated to prevent the spread of disease.
The last story, "Obsolete" is just dumb. Video tape of Venus shows that Paradise is real and everyone on Earth kills themselves so they can get to Paradise. What the hell? No way!
Finally, it is hard to have any sympathy for the writer "victims" because most of them turn out to be homicidal creeps themselves and pretty much deserve what they get.
Review from The Guardian: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2005/jun/11/fiction.chuckpalahniuk.
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