Fight Club
Fights,
Plights and Sleepless Nights
Chuck Palahniuk's novel is a real slap in the face,
literally.
The first rule about this book is that you do not talk about this book.
The second rule about this book is that you do not talk about this book.
The third rule about this book is that this book is brilliant.
The third rule about this book is that this book is brilliant.
For some of you, I imagine, what I have written above does not make a whole lot of sense. If it does, it's probably because you've read this book, watched the film, or even heard the whisperings of Fight Club dialect in popular culture . I can only explain that this style of writing in rules is one frequently used in this novel; one that you will quickly become accustomed to should you read it (which you should.)
Fight club begins in the way that every good old-fashioned thriller should: with a climatic rooftop scene, in which our narrator (who prefers to remain anonymous) is held at gun-point by our wreckless antagonist, Tyler Durden. Beneath the two men, a multi-storey structure is set to explode at any given time, under Tyler's boastful handiwork. What follows is the riveting story of exactly how our narrator ended up in this situation, forced to face the 'sweet miracle of death' by the very man he has become so infatuated with.
It goes like this. Our narrator is a middle-aged office worker who is bored to death with his Ikea furniture, repressed loneliness, and artificial lifestyle. He also suffers from crippling insomnia, with virtually his only method of achieving blissful sleep being that he has to become really emotional. Hence, in order to truly "let go", he develops a habit-slash-addiction for attending as many cancer support groups as he can schedule. Only there, amongst the mentally and physically heartbroken, can he muster up enough emotion for a good night's sleep.
In contrast, Tyler Durden is the American dream: blonde, handsome, opportunistic- but arguably insane. After a strange turn of events see the two men living together in a run-down abandoned house on "Paper Street", Tyler suggests a new way of injecting excitement into their paperback lives. It is this: to gather once a week in a low-lit basement, periodically assaulting each other in order to release the tension caused by their tedious lifestyles. In other words: they create "Fight Club."
Complete with a set of fool-proof rules, Fight Club is a place where two men at a time may fight to the point of unconsciousness . The concept proves to be a roaring success, with new clubs springing up all over the city, until almost every working man can be spotted with a black eye or a split lip from a various club meeting. Moreover, this new hobby seems to solve our narrator's sleeping issues, making him almost completely satisfied with his life. Unfortunately, one thing is still obstructing his bliss: the beautiful, deadly thing that is Marla Singer.
We first encounter Marla as a fellow support-group-addict, with our narrator confronting her to call her out as a fellow "faker." Soon, Marla has manipulated her way not only into his support groups, but also into his own home- with the start of her blazing relationship with Tyler. Our narrator is thrown into a life forever in the shadow of Tyler Durden: having to carry out his errands, console his deranged girlfriend, and clean up the aftermath of his rampages. As he grows more frustrated, his fights become more aggressive, and Fight Club becomes his new addiction. Relentless fighting is the only way he can supress his feelings for Tyler (whether they be born from jealousy, or admiration.) Originally, he was controlling Fight Club, but now- as the line between love and hate grows blurry- it seems that Fight Club is controlling him.
Such is the gist of the story, of course with the spoilers left out for your own benefit (you're welcome.) This is the story that inspired the iconic Hollywood film, yet I maintain that in order for it to be truly appreciated- it must be read. The writing style is unlike anything I have encountered before, due to the narrator's insomniac. You travel from event to event, between past and present, and indeed between night and day, as consecutive as a flicking light switch. I am reminded of one particular quote: 'when you have insomnia, you are never really asleep, and you are never really awake.' This is precisely the experience of the narrative, often disjointed and somewhat surreal.
Of course, the insomniac style can come as an obstacle, making it difficult to read in places. I found that I was left ignorant to the outcome of a certain event, only to have it explained a few pages later in a seemingly unrelated manner. Palahniuk also throws in one-word phrases and lists, interspersed within the text. Words. Sentences. Phrases. Listing. (You get the idea?) Although frustrating, this seems to mimic the narrator's frustration with his empty life, and particularly the dangers of consumerism. His life is an endless list: of possessions he doesn't need, business trips he cannot stand, and relationships he cannot maintain. Tyler draws him back to a simple life, one where the men are driven by raw, animal impulses rather than commercial pursuits. Both lifestyles, however, (both the natural and the materialistic), prove to some extent to be detrimental. I am left wondering which is better, and beyond that, whether or not there is any correct way to live at all.
Another interesting dynamic is the role of Marla Singer, who can most accurately be described as a manic-depressive butterfly. Her fluttering presence is a transient side-line to the plot, such that I am left wondering exactly what her character represents. In the novel she is the beautiful lost soul, yet the film sees this description shattered with the twisted portrayal of Helena Bonham-Carter, forever engulfed in clouds of her own cigarette smoke, sporting a frazzled haircut and smudged eyeliner. Perhaps my mistake was to view Marla Singer through the goggles of romanticism, only to be left dumbfounded at her true, delusional nature. Like with any novel, the reader forms their own impression of the characters, and I believe on my part to have interpreted Marla Singer as far more substantial than the Hollywood film allows her to be. I invite you to read, and form your own opinions on this mysterious character.
Though I digress, the central theme of this novel is of course the infamous "Fight Club", and the consecutive mayhem that results from this concept. As well as the obvious desire to release tension through physical violence, there is something far deeper drawing the men towards the club. Our narrator remarks after one particular fight- 'I felt like destroying something beautiful' and within this quote I find a further dimension to the plot. There is something therapeutic, it seems, in destroying our counter-parts, if only in order to remind us of our own mortality. We can break, and we will break- for we are not the everlasting super-gods that our egos might have us believe. Perhaps this is what Fight Club teaches us; that we are regrettably impermanent, and any sense of our own beauty or self-worth is no more than a mark on the tally chart of existence.
This is not an easy read. The headache of a narrative is enough to induce your very own sleepless night, and the wavering time frame can be exasperating. But recount the old saying that Nothing Good Comes Easy, and stick with it, for this novel is truly fantastic.
Of course, the insomniac style can come as an obstacle, making it difficult to read in places. I found that I was left ignorant to the outcome of a certain event, only to have it explained a few pages later in a seemingly unrelated manner. Palahniuk also throws in one-word phrases and lists, interspersed within the text. Words. Sentences. Phrases. Listing. (You get the idea?) Although frustrating, this seems to mimic the narrator's frustration with his empty life, and particularly the dangers of consumerism. His life is an endless list: of possessions he doesn't need, business trips he cannot stand, and relationships he cannot maintain. Tyler draws him back to a simple life, one where the men are driven by raw, animal impulses rather than commercial pursuits. Both lifestyles, however, (both the natural and the materialistic), prove to some extent to be detrimental. I am left wondering which is better, and beyond that, whether or not there is any correct way to live at all.
Another interesting dynamic is the role of Marla Singer, who can most accurately be described as a manic-depressive butterfly. Her fluttering presence is a transient side-line to the plot, such that I am left wondering exactly what her character represents. In the novel she is the beautiful lost soul, yet the film sees this description shattered with the twisted portrayal of Helena Bonham-Carter, forever engulfed in clouds of her own cigarette smoke, sporting a frazzled haircut and smudged eyeliner. Perhaps my mistake was to view Marla Singer through the goggles of romanticism, only to be left dumbfounded at her true, delusional nature. Like with any novel, the reader forms their own impression of the characters, and I believe on my part to have interpreted Marla Singer as far more substantial than the Hollywood film allows her to be. I invite you to read, and form your own opinions on this mysterious character.
Though I digress, the central theme of this novel is of course the infamous "Fight Club", and the consecutive mayhem that results from this concept. As well as the obvious desire to release tension through physical violence, there is something far deeper drawing the men towards the club. Our narrator remarks after one particular fight- 'I felt like destroying something beautiful' and within this quote I find a further dimension to the plot. There is something therapeutic, it seems, in destroying our counter-parts, if only in order to remind us of our own mortality. We can break, and we will break- for we are not the everlasting super-gods that our egos might have us believe. Perhaps this is what Fight Club teaches us; that we are regrettably impermanent, and any sense of our own beauty or self-worth is no more than a mark on the tally chart of existence.
This is not an easy read. The headache of a narrative is enough to induce your very own sleepless night, and the wavering time frame can be exasperating. But recount the old saying that Nothing Good Comes Easy, and stick with it, for this novel is truly fantastic.
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