Fight Club (novel).

The first rule of Fight Club is … oh, enough already, you know the joke.

I saw David Fincher’s acclaimed film adaptation of Fight Club back in 2011, and nine years on it hasn’t left me, even though I have yet to rewatch it. The three leads are all so good, and as disturbing as the film is, I think I needed some time to process what Fincher and the book’s author, Chuck Palahniuk, were trying to say.

Since I hosted a livestreamed event with Palahniuk earlier in September, I decided to read Fight Club, Palahniuk’s first novel and I think still his most popular. The film’s script adheres reasonably closely to the story in the book, but the novel has fewer clues to its ultimate twist, and the ending differs substantially, with the written one far creepier and paranoid.

The novel is narrated by the main character, never named, who has already met Tyler Durden, the primary antagonist who exerts a Svengali-like influence over the protagonist. We jump back in time to where the narrator spends most of his time attending self-help groups for people suffering from or dying of rare diseases that he doesn’t actually have. He meets Marla, who’s doing the same thing, and ends up in a battle of wills with her that ends with them splitting the groups they attend and, somehow, also leads to her meeting Tyler and sleeping with him. The narrator and Tyler go on, of course, to create a fight club that attracts other disaffected young men and eventually becomes a social movement focused on self-reliance and the overthrow of the modern state.

The violence inherent to the story plays out less shockingly on the page than on film; Palahniuk is very comfortable delving into the darker side of humanity, and doesn’t shy away from the physical damage of the fights, but it’s less lurid here than in Fincher’s version – without being less visceral. You are drawn into the page by that violence but kept there primarily by the narration itself. The protagonist isn’t quite right, obviously, and Palahniuk’s best trick in the novel, even aside from the ultimate twist, is how he voices the narrator’s inner monologue so that we get the sense of his mental descent without him making it explicit.

The twist, if you don’t know it, is the same here as it is in the film, but the two diverge after that point when the narrator tries to stop what he’s set in motion with the cult he and Tyler have created. The movie ends on a more hopeful note, if you can believe it, while the book emphasizes how the narrator has been trapped by his own creations, without the way out he gets in the film. The book also spends less time on Tyler’s character, and he’s more three-dimensional in the film, not least because of how Pitt portrays him.

There’s a whole body of literature on the meaning and themes of Fight Club the book and the film, which I won’t even try to rehash here, not least because they aren’t my own thoughts. Reading the novel now, in 2020, well after seeing the film, I couldn’t avoid seeing it as a prescient depiction of incel culture before that word even existed. Young men, feeling emasculated by society, oppressed by late-stage capitalism, and rejected by women, turn to violence and a movement that purports to restore them to power. These same young men would be wearing MAGA hats fifteen years later, or carrying tiki torches in Charlottesville. Palahniuk doesn’t so much blame society for their existence as observe them as a consequence and follow one of them in particular to the bottom of his slippery slope. There’s an anti-consumerist message here but it was much weaker than it is in the film, replaced in part by mockery of upwardly mobile consumers who will pay more for a product that they see as “natural” or that carries other socially desirable traits.

Marla isn’t much of a character in the novel Fight Club, which is disappointing given how much more real she is in Helena Bonham-Carter’s portrayal. Palahniuk has faced criticism for his views on gender, and Marla is enough of a stock character here, despite a very promising introduction, that it becomes a weakness in the novel – never mind the Bechdel Test, which this novel fails immediately, but this is a novel about dudes who just want to be dudes. It’s a Real Men™ thing, and you ladies wouldn’t get it. Palahniuk is a satirist on some level, but there isn’t a strong sense of condemnation of Tyler Durden’s acolytes here, and Marla was his best chance to provide that within the novel if she’d been a stronger character.

When I’ve read a book and seen the movie adaptation, nine times out of ten I come down in favor of the book. Fight Club is in the latter category. Jim Uhls’ screenplay smooths out some of the rough edges in Palahniuk’s novel, while Pitt and Bonham-Carter bring their respective characters to life with far greater detail and texture. The tradeoffs are an ending that might be too positive, and more overt clues as to the coming twist. There are huge tells in the movie that aren’t there in the book, and it’s at least a fair debate whether that’s to the film’s detriment. I figured it out while watching the film, but I don’t think I would have figured it out if I’d read the book first. In some ways, that’s a recommendation for the book, but on balance, I think the film is just better.

Next up: I’m reading Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, probably 35 years after I first heard about the book in social studies class.