I didn't plan on starting Steven Hall's The Raw Shark Texts for a while--at least not until I finished one of the three books I'm currently reading--but I skimmed the first page, just to get a feel for what I might be in for, and before I knew it, ended up reading the first four chapters. It's good stuff, but the fourth paragraph--particularly the first sentence--sucked me in.

My eyes slammed themselves capital O open and my neck and shoulders arched back in a huge inward heave, a single world-swallowing lung gulp of air. Litres of dry oxygen and floor dust whistled in and snagged up my throat with knifey coughing spasms. I choked and spat through heaves and gasps and coughing coughing coughing spasms. Snot ropes unwound from my nose. My eyesight melted into hot blurs over my cheeks.

And this damnable book gets better and better, all while leaving me completely mind-fucked.