I’m always wary of sequels. Particularly sequels of books that I have enjoyed and that played a significant role in my personal development or maladjustment.
Recently, Stephen King brought out a sequel to The Shining, Doctor Sleep. The only reason I haven’t read it yet is because I’m afraid of being disappointed.
This week, Palahniuk announced that there was going to be a graphic novel sequel to Fight Club.
The first time I came across Fight Club, the movie adaption not the book. I was taking shots of orange vodka that had thickened from being put in the freezer. In those days, the measure of a good time was not remembering it.
My friend looked at me before slipping the DVD in and said, “This movie is messed up.”
I ordered the book the next day, and when it came I dived right into it. When I finally closed the back cover, my whole world had been shattered.
The story had ignited a critical spark and I started questioning everything around me. I was just short of walking around in broad day light with a torch.
I started trying to live an ‘authentic life’, which led me down self-destructive detour.
I soon got my life into order, but I could never go back to seeing the world the way I did before. I’m not sure I want to either.
Image Credit: GoodReads