Today, for the first time in a year, Fight Club was in at the library. I got home this evening, made dinner, exercised, finished an excellent collection of short stories, and opened Fight Club, thinking I would get in a few chapters before bedtime.
A few minutes ago, I turned the last page, breathing hard and thinking I tasted blood.
I guess I knew when I picked up this book that I was asking Chuck Palahniuk to hit me as hard as he could. I could have put it down at any time — said stop, tapped out, gone limp — but I didn’t. Each fight goes on as long as it has to.