Chuck Palahniuk

"A harrowing, perverse, laugh-aloud funny rocket ride of catastrophes...Gutsy, terse and cunning, Invisible Monsters may emerge as Palahniuk's strongest book." --Greg Berkman, Seattle Times

Invisible Monsters

Amanda Autumn Berrey

Continued on page whatever. No matter how careful you are, there’s going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn’t experience it all. There’s that fallen-heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should’ve been paying attention. Well, get used to that feeling. That’s how your whole life will feel someday.

If you have to start with any one detail, it has to be Brandy’s hands.

Beaded with rings to make them look even bigger, Brandy’s hands are enormous. Beaded with rings, as if they could be more obvious, hands are the one part about Brandy Alexander the surgeons couldn’t change.

When nobody will look at you, you can stare a hole in them. Picking out all the little details you’d never stare long enough to get if she’d ever just return your gaze, this, this is your revenge.

She invents another future for me with no connections, except to her, a cult all by herself.

“Your name is Daisy St. Patience,” she tells me. “You’re the lost heiress to the House of St. Patience, the very haute couture fashion showroom, and this season we’re doing hats,” she says. “Hats with veils.

“You don’t have to wear makeup. You don’t even have to wash. A good veil is the equivalent of mirrored sunglasses, but for your whole head.”

Behind a good veil, you could be anyone. A movie star. A saint. A good veil says: We Have Not Been Properly Introduced. You’re the prize behind door number three. You’re the lady or the tiger.

“Your father and mother, Rainier and Honoraria St. Patience, were assassinated by fashion terrorists,”

Give me pity. Flash. Give me empathy. Flash.

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