(Sept.) FYI: The film of Palahniuk's novel Fight Club will star Brad Pitt. Though the absurd surprise ending may incite groans of disbelief, this book does have fun moments when campy banter tops the heroine's flat, whiny bathos. Palahniuk writes like he's overdosed on Details magazine. Give me a break"") to signpost the narrator's epiphanies. Adding to the plot's contrivances are the relentless flashbacks, heralded at the beginning of almost every paragraph with ""Jump back to."" and the author's pretentious device of using a fashion photographer's commands (""Flash. (Since then, the McFarlands have become militant gay rights activists, trading on their ""grief."") Amid the family drama, Shannon manages to exact her revenge on Manus by surreptitiously slipping him estrogen and enjoying his dismay at sprouting unwanted breasts. Then she learns that Brandy is actually her long-lost brother, Shane, who supposedly died of AIDS after his parents kicked him out of their home. Since Shannon now believes that Manus and Evie orchestrated her ""accident,"" Shannon rustles up a few arson/kidnapping ""accidents"" of her own. Shannon wants revenge: first on her supposedly best friend Evie, who has been squeezing her size nine body into Shannon's size six wardrobe, then on her fianc, Manus Kelly, who has been running around with Evie. Brandy suggests veils, high camp and no self-pity. Along comes no-nonsense, pill-popping diva Brandy Alexander, a resplendent, sassy, transgendered chick, who has modeled her body rearrangement-the breast implants, the hair, the figure-on what Shannon used to look like. Love, betrayal, petty larceny, and high fashion fuel this deliciously comic novel from the author of. Her jaw has been shot off, leaving her not only bereft of a career and boyfriend, but suddenly invisible to the world. Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk available in Trade Paperback on, also read synopsis and reviews. Narrator Shannon McFarland, once a gorgeous fashion model, has been hideously disfigured in a mysterious drive-by shooting. Palahniuk's grotesque romp aims to skewer the ruthless superficiality of the fashion world and winds up with a tale as savagely glib as what it derides.
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