I read some of Invisible Monsters today. It was not as awful as I thought it would be, though I do not find it especially beautiful writing. It is not writing with a careful attention to the thousand nuances of language. For example, Palanchiuk’s writing has no cadence — though that is not to say that it does not have pace. Indeed, it has pace. In fact, it paces forward, walking at that speed just below running so characteristic of a New Yorker in a crowd — who, intent on his destination, pushes forward where and whenever obstacles are encountered — never pausing and never slowing.