Diary by Chuck Palahniuk

Mind-blowing story, but not nearly as mind-blowing as the storytelling. But what do you expect from the writer of Fight Club? Bravo. Not only did it keep me hooked, it was an unexpected source of subtle Ayn Rand-ish insight. Two points etched:

(1) The What Now? Phenomenon
From high school to college to post-graduate studies, we try hard to ingrain as much technique and technical mastery as possible. Come graduation, here we are, erudites in our own respective fields, and we still find ourselves lacking in the one thing schools can’t assure you — inspiration. It’s kind of sad, us adept and driven, but without direction. After beating ourselves to a pulp, we’re still missing our why-isque what (or that what-tic why, if you prefer). Then we curse the unschooled genius who comes along and whips up the excellent from nothing. Dang.

(2) Everything’s our diary. All that we touch, all that we make are telltales of who we are. The colors we choose. The words we pick. The stains on your clothes. What’s in your bag. What’s not in your bag. Everything’s a tattler.

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