Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk. I like getting immersed in Palahniuks world. Glad I don’t have to stay for too long there mind. He paints such a decrepit, scummy, still decaying view of the world that I am reasonably happy I am wearing my rose-tinted glasses through which I go about my daily business. I’m working my way through all of his stuff and he has a definite style which, while not instantly gripping draws the reader in slowly, like the tendrils of a creeping ivy on steroids, slowly engorging the whole side of the house.