Do Not Talk About The Book

Last night I watched Fight Club at the MWR (Morale, Welfare, Readiness) theater. Yes, I know, it came out in 1999, but for some reason I'd never seen it. Now, because I read the book over the course of several "hurry up and wait" episodes at Fort Benning last month, I was curious to see the movie.

Curious mostly to see why it had been such a talked-about movie in its day, because I really didn't like the book. Whether it was the minimalism or the nihilism, something just didn't do it for me. And Chuck Palahniuk has such a reputation for edgy, avant-garde, thought-provoking writing.

(Well, I guess he is edgy and avant garde, but judging by that book alone he seems to be part of that notorious school of post-modern lit that's really an emperor-has-no-clothes deal. Like David Sedaris. What is so funny about David Sedaris? I don't get it. And the fact that he moved to Paris to live with his gay lover is supposed to be, what, brave? Nope, all too banal for me.)

Anyway, I thought the movie dragged at times but was ultimately entertaining. Ed Norton and Brad Pitt were tremendous. I got out of it, beyond a warning about pschizophrenia, a Dead-Poets-Society-type message about seizing the day, not letting yourself get sucked into a dreary 9-to-5 white- or blue-collar existence. And also the dangers of the aforementioned nihilism.

I'm sure that wasn't what Palahniuk intended; to whom it was probably "just a story," or perhaps a long-needed glorification of extra-societal underground groups of marginalized individuals who revolt, in their own way, against the bourgeoisie. That may very well be what he meant, but so I can continue thinking good things about the movie, I'll discount that view.