This was my first stab at a Palahniuk novel, and initially, I was preparing myself to be let down. The blurb on the back cover didn't really sell the plot to me, and the opening few chapters - although extremely well-written - give away nothing of the overall tone and direction of the book. However, as the story progresses, the narrative becomes richer and richer, and each little random nugget of wisdom (or nonsense!) encountered along the way begins to take on meaning: '...an artist's job is to make order out of chaos. You collect details, look for a pattern, and organize. You make sense out of senseless facts.' By the end, I was totally wrapped up in the story: I read 'Diary' in one sitting, incapable of putting it down. Detailed descriptions of the painter's materials, as well as frequent references to tortured artists of the past, lend vitality to the ambitious plot. My only gripe is the repeated phrase 'Just for the record', which jarred slightly. Otherwise, Palahniuk's writing is brutally honest, beautifully emotive, and refreshingly shocking in parts. I cannot recommend this book enough.