Rating: 
Summary: not so bad...
Review: This was my first Palahniuk book, suggested by a friend. After seeing Fight Club, I immediately noted the simular style of 'Time Leaping' which is also utitilized in this book, and is something that is used in other novels such as Slaughter House Five by Kurt Vonnegut. Though in this story, as in the story of Fight Club, Palahniuk takes this style to a new level (as well as the climax initiating storyline).This style is primatively redundant and can become annoying to read. We understand that this is the character's mentality and this actually does work in illustrating the levels of her sanity throughout different points of the story, giving the narrative some varied rhythm and that postmodern "conscious altering feeling." I also agree about the need for commas, even from an artstic stand point as I am a creatIve wrIter.The main character is interesting and dynamic as she is simultaneously lame, trite, conceited, vain, shallow, though shows some "moments of |intelligent| clarity" in her observations and her own self-awareness. In this we are easily open to consider our own short-comings better.
It's almost as though Palahiuk is using a pleasing intrustive narrator, if you can do so on a first person narration, as she is constantly reexamining herself, redefining herself and, unbeknownst to her, accepting her real self by coming to terms with her past in a circular, chaotic way.
Rating: 
Summary: Ridiculous
Review: With each passing book, Palahniuk gets even stupider. He doesn't seem to be able to make his far-out premises work anymore, and this novel proves nothing but an embarassment to read.
Rating:
Summary: How did this get published?
Review: Without question one of the worst novels I've ever read. From the ham-handed opening paragraph (a ripoff of McInerney's Bright Lights, Big City) to the graceless, gimmicky narrative ("Jump to Brandy and me...";"Jump to the other day when..."; "Jump to Seattle where...") to the endless stretches of terrible prose ("Then you'd sweat if there wasn't a breeze, and the cotton crepe stuck to you like eleven herbs and spices..."; "The basketball king until he was sixteen and his test for strep throat came back as gonorrhea, I only knew I hated him."), the most remarkable thing about this novel is that it was published at all. Palauniuk defenders are quick to suggest that those who dislike this inspid book are likely put off by its "shocking" subject matter or content. The truth is that C.P.'s narration is so choppy, so platitudinous and dull, his characters so flat, that it's impossible to feel anything resembling emotion/interest toward any of them. Any kind of sophisticated reader simply isn't likely to be shocked by something he cares nothing about, by something that hasn't engaged his attention on an emotional or intellectual level. In the hands or a competent writer, this sophomoric tale might have been tolerable. Palahniuk, though, instead of providing any kind of significant character development or intriguing interaction, relies on the kind of ridiculous identity-swapping "surprises" often found in comic books and overheard among groups of children playing with Barbie dolls and G.I. Joes. "This isn't really Brandy Alexander, it's actually..." Give me a break. C.P. seems to want to be any number of other writers, from Bret Easton Ellis (who in American Psycho and Glamorama is everything Palauhniuk isn't in Invisible Monsters: shocking, witty, morbid, clever) to Tom Robbins (with his studied frivolity) to (for whatever reason) Douglas Coupland circa Generation X. Unfortunately, C.P. manages to combine the worst tendencies of each of these writers while somehow failing to tap into any of the qualities that have made each of them successful. (And in Coupland's case I use that term loosely.) For those Palahniuk fans who actually think this ridiculously bad novel is worth defending or recommending, I would urge/beg you to expand your reading sphere. There really are authors out there who don't write like the average fifteen year old. And while you could likely throw a dart toward the fiction section of your local bookstore and hit a novel of far more worth than Invisible Monsters, I'll offer a few suggestions to get you started: Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami, Americana by Don DeLillo, The Elementary Particles by Michel Houellebecq, Glamorama by Bret Ellis, The Verificationist by Donald Antrim, The Unconsoled by Kazuo Ishiguro. Years from now, when you look back in astonishment at your pubescent fascination with the drivel of Invisible Monsters, you might even thank me.
Rating: 
Summary: Fascinating.
Review: Having read and enjoyed Fight Club, I bought a copy of Invisible Monsters before leaving for a 10-day chamber music camp. During the 10 days, I read the book at least 2 times. I probably should reread Fight Club, but as of right now, I would probably say that I liked Invisible Monsters more. As a female, it was easier for me to relate to the narrator of Invisible Monsters than to the mostly male characters in Fight Club. I suppose I probably got used to how twisted Invisible Monsters is after reading it a few times, but now that I think about it, that kind of writing (morbid, kind of creepy) is probably really common for Palahniuk's writing. Some people won't like this book for that reason, but I tend to read things that lean to the weirder side of writing. In conclusion, I'd recommend Invisible Monsters to anyone who liked Fight Club, or who likes darker literature.
Rating: 
Summary: Oddly satisfying
Review: A fun read, especially for those of us who enjoy unusual characters in improbable situations. You may not LIKE any of these characters, but their quirks keep you rooting for them anyway.
Rating:
Summary: Hard to put down
Review: This is the most exciting book Ive read in a long time! The story moves so fast and reads so easily it was hard to put down! Every time I read another chapter I found it more addictive! You wont be dissapointed with this book.
Rating: 
Summary: Sick = Good?
Review: Sick! This book was just twisted in my opinion. All the characters as well as the author need psychological help. I thought I might need some for the simple fact that I was able to get through the entire thing.
Rating:
Summary: extraordinary.
Review: Invisible Mosters is one of the most phenomenal, unforgettable books I have ever read. The way he writes seizes me and I just cannot put his books down. There really are not enough words to describe this book; I think everyone should read it. Halfway through I was in love with it, and by the end I was crying and already deciding when to read it again. It is simply beautiful and breathtaking and definitely worth the read.
Rating:
Summary: File under Metatrash/Cheap Thrills
Review: Chuck Palahniuk wants you to know a few things. About TV. And drugs. And fashion. And violence. And (**gasp**) conformity. It's a pretty safe bet that as a reasonably intelligent and even slightly "unconventional" person over the age of 12, you know these things already. Want to hear them again? Well, I wish I could say that you could do worse than read "Invisible Monsters," but it's probably the most easily disposable piece of ... fiction I've read thus far. You know, that type of narrative that attempts, on the basis of an open-ended and nearly arbitrary premise, to present a distended panoramic of hypermodern decadence, but ends up being predictable formal fallacies and total lack of grace. I guess it would be a little too ironic to say that I've seen it before, seeing as the beast in question lives off jadedness, but Palahkiuk's been beaten to the punch dozens of times since the 1980s. Subsequently, everything that's supposed to "shock" you in Invisible Monsters seems far too calculated, and might as well have a big flashing neon sign up announcing itself five miles in advance. This pulp-novel approach keeps the sleaze exactly where you expect it to be, and renders the entire thing as safe as can be. Palahniuk's "monsters" are of the caged variety, and there's no mystery or danger about them. Palahniuk doesn't pull off mystery or danger, but he does manage some cleverness and raw wit once in a while. This produces the occasional neat insight into trash culture, and it's a shame such insights tend to come across as footnotes and window-dressing adding nothing to the book's themes. The jokes, as they are, become so repetetive, belabored, and head-slappingly hackneyed (in their po-mo/pop-art way) that you know the author himself is laughing harder than anyone. However, despite these distractions, Palahniuk isn't really unfocused. He's more than willing to pull out all the stops in the service of his main ideas; it's just that he does so in the most obvious, belabored, parodic way imaginable, taking his main idea (mistaken identities and identity crisis) so literally that his characters, instead of becoming the contradictory cubist jumbles he intends, simply fall apart on him, taking with them his incoherent points about dehumanization and will. This might be passable (i.e. readable without cringing all that often), if Palahniuk had any taste as a writer. He doesn't, so he loads up the work with as many gimmicks as possible to obscure a lack of substance and make the unravelling of any semblance of plot seem intentional. Said gimmicks include: the use of a literally "faceless" narrator to make a point about anonimity; a framing device wherein the narrator's companion asks to be told her life story while dying; an *additional* framing device involving a dull, aimless road trip; the presentation of the entire story in the form of fragmented flashbacks; a repeated phrase ("flash" or "jump to") self-consciously presenting almost every shift in perspective or
circumstance . . . After a while it's just nauseating. I guess it all comes back to whether or not you're in love with this particular genre, and what you've already read. I can't recommend Palahniuk as "more of the same," because his low-level gimmickry, formulaic approach, and lack of any geniune shock value put him miles below even the likes of Brent Easton Ellis. However, if you've *never* read Ellis, Don DeLillo, William Gibson, Neal Stephenson, or Bruce Sterling, maybe you should slog
your way through Palahniuk first, to make others seem amazing in comparison. Alternatively, if you've been dissappointed with other chroniclers of the cultural wasteland, maybe you should check out Palahniuk and contrast his gimmicks with the legitimate talent of the aforementioned novelists.
Rating:
Summary: WOW
Review: brilliant brilliant brilliant. One of the best books I've ever written. The only problem a reader could have with this book is its subject matter of sex/transgender and drugs. If you liked Fight Club you'll probably dig it.
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