the only movie i have watched more than american beauty in the last six months is fight club. for this reason one should not be shocked to hear that every word read in this book, from the maker of fight club, rang out in my mind in edward norton's lazy jack-drawl. this author, whose name i cannot pronounce, writes in a melodic and prancing style that soothes me while crafting sentences and thoughts that hijack my mind forcing it down thoroughfares without the owner and operator's permission. this author who i simply call chuck, or charles out of respect, left me singing his words in my head, again.