An old money woman who, along with her husband, used to pretend to be homeless as a cure for boredom. After she and her husband witness a crime leading to the murder of a wealthy Brazilian heiress, her husband is murdered by the killers, and a string of homeless people are murdered in the search for her. She comes to the retreat to escape the people who want to kill her. A reflexologist and homeopathic therapy expert who was once employed in prostitution based around her skills with reflexology. She has joined the retreat to escape the Russian Mafia, after becoming an accessory to the murder of her friend's pimp. They you have connecting pieces these are in effect a bridge between the two parts of the story. These give a different perspective and act as an interlude as you shift from one story to the next but without leaving sight of the first (if that makes sense) I'm only on p 75 of this thing and I'm about to hurl it at the wall. What is it supposed to be? Does this guy really think these lame parodies are funny? This is from the section called "Slumming", which is about rich people, a couple of whom are pretending to be poor :

Yes he may be worthy of the praise and his works are joys to hold and read but it also sets the bar so high that disappointment is an almost accepted conclusion.I suppose this would be extreme reading; but is somewhat of an underground cult-classic. Bring it up with the artistic circles or geeks alike and you will have found at least one or more persons who's read "Guts" at least. A reporter who murders a former child star to frame him for collecting child pornography, so that he can write a Pulitzer Prize-winning article about it. That having been said, I'm glad I listened to this to the end. "Haunted" is well-written and well performed. The short stories intertwine to form a larger, and increasingly compelling, narrative about the lives of the trapped characters. In the first volume, there were a couple of stories so revolting I decided to stop listening; but I found myself so involved with the overarching story that I ultimately ended up listening to the last 3 hours straight through. Very good storytelling.

The modern reader suddenly remembers those Agatha Christie stories, in which the cast of cliché-ridden characters is bumped off one by one, while the éminence grise who invited them to the island or the country house lurks somewhere behind the walls. A similar memory even emerges of one of those old portmanteau horror films: Ralph Richardson in a studio-built crypt, dressed in a monk's habit, listening to the ghoulish confessions of damned souls. Haunted reminds us of both of these. Then, towards the end, an even more contemporary resonance sounds. Is Palahniuk making a point about reality television? The parallels seem deliberate. While the éminence grise (unseen TV producer) continues to lurk behind the walls, the remaining writers (celebs, housemates) await the end. Many of their former confrères are absent, already out in the world being mutilated by the tabloids, or worse, discarded as unsuitable even for that. The set is scrawled with graffiti and smeared with filth, the last witchetty grubs have been eaten, the remaining survivors squabble about sharing the pot of money they imagine is waiting for them when they come to tell the story of what has gone on. The reality of false reality has overtaken them, and they are unwilling to leave their retreat, dreading what real reality might be like outside. If this is satire it is of a complexity and a degree of intellectual ferocity few writers have attempted before. This book is incredibly uneven, that's its downfall. There are some really good moments, some really bad moments, and one or two truly brillant ones. Looking at it as what it essentially is; a collection of short stories, it's really no better or worse than any other short story collection, and actually should get extra points for its brazen audacity. The unifying material that links all of the stories together is terribly weak, and is what ultimately sinks the book.Narration was fine, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say unless you’re a fan of the author I don’t think you’ll enjoy this book. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. Il dolore e l'odio e l'amore e la gioia e la guerra esistono perché siamo noi a volerli.. E vogliamo che tutto sia così drammatico per preparaci alla prova finale che ci aspetta: affrontare la morte. Instead of reviewing the entire novel, I will just be focusing on my personal favourite chapter "Guts". What would happen is that the writers would all have horrible personal problems, would begin worshiping at the First Church of Self-Destruction, they would start talking like coroners and doctors with jargon littering their dialogue, they would repeat themselves with a chorus, and they'd throw up a bunch of plot twists.