Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk

I had a hard time finishing Haunted. But it's just the way I like it. Some stories were a waste of time. Some were just too excellent. Guts, Exodus, Box-shit, and that scene or whatever it was, when Comrade Snarky said, "I fainted....and you ate my ass?
You fed me my own ass?"

As a whole, the book has a disoriented flow. If we talk about music, it'll be like a beautiful sound of discordance. But hey, this book, in its truest nature, causes both psychological and physiological disorientation. So fucking gory and gross. That part in which Cassandra was rotting in the forest. #@!#@!#@!#@!

Some stories and scenes just stand alone. Live all by itself.

The way this book was written was really eccentric. You can get lost easily if you're not used to the way Chucky writes. This book requires a high dose of patience –if you don't have it, then don't read it. It's not reader-friendly. At some parts of the book, you'll tell yourself, "Why the fuck am I still reading this?" or "This is a waste of fucking time." ... I told myself that.

It even attracted a mosquito like a magnet ...

Writers' Retreat. Away from the world of three months to create their own masterpieces –disasterpieces. Really fucked-up characters. Really disgusting. The idea was really an innovation. As usual, the sick and twisted mind of the author didn't fail to make me applause with one hand. In the first place, I didn't know I can do it.

This is the new taste of horror. Humor and Horror inside a bottle of beer. Intoxicating. Horrifying. Funny.

The world is meant for suffering. If you understand that, you might chase suffering –and suffering might run away from you. You might even need to feel you're suffering to feel you're alive.

"Think of a rock polisher, one of those drums, goes round and round, rolls twenty-four/seven, full of water and rocks and gravel. Grinding it all up. Round and round. Polishing those ugly rocks into gemstones. That’s the earth. Why it goes around. We’re the rocks. And what happens to us—the drama and pain and joy and war and sickness and victory and abuse—why, that’s just the water and sand to erode us. Grind us down. To polish us up, nice and bright."

On their attempt to metamorphose their sufferings into something they can sell, they craft it into stories. They distort it. Make it worse. Make it better. Make it unreal.The story behind the story. The truth behind the truth. The reality behind the reality. Perhaps, that is what's happening in this world. The world being turned into fiction. Isn't that scary?

And the mosquito died. Shit-colored blood spilled on the page.

The narrative style of Chuck in Haunted is really incomparable. And this book of his, hits a lot of things. Obviously, you might know what those things are.

The book is haunted by a soul. I scared my little sister with this.

The cover of the book = five stars.

*Clapping with one hand*