   Made into a terrifically disturbing film starring Edward
Norton and Brad Pitt, the book showed Palahniuk's gift for
speaking uncomfortable truths about taboo subjects, such as how
the American male tends to treat his existential ennui with
meaningless consumerism, tawdry sex and wanton violence. With
fully realized, relatable characters and a terrific, compelling
plot, it remains the author's best.   "Tell-All," Palahniuk's
newest book, is equally ambitious. Part-noir mystery, part-
historical fiction, with generous dollops of catty backstage
gossip and smut thrown in, it has tons of plot and a cast of
thousands. Palahniuk's theme remains the same: public image
versus private reality, specifically, the phoniness of the
former and the twisted, macabre nature of the latter.  But
instead of a blockbuster, "Tell-All" is a bomb. Like many a
movie that promises to combine action with romance, it delivers
neither. A giant gasbag of a book, an unwieldy genre mish-mash,
more confusing than entertaining, it lands wit