Customer Reviews

American Psycho

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I decided to read American Psycho after hearing the title whispered in social circles. It's so violent. Too graphic. What's the point? Comments only fueled my desire to read the novel Bret Easton Ellis tried to get published in 1992, without great success, for some time.

No matter the genre, a novel is successful if it makes the reader think, pause and reassess the world. Ellis' novel offers a satirical look into the pampered New York elite through the eyes of an original and sociopath main character.

What Works:

Narration: The first-person narration captures the reader instantly, introducing Patrick's innermost thoughts and fastidious rituals, such as cleaning his body with more products than your local Rite-Aid. Patrick takes the reader along to trendy, $25-cover clubs, scouting for "hardbodies" and lamenting about cheap drugs sold on the dance floor. Ellis has made a wise choice using Patrick as the narrator. As you read, you are engaged, participating. What is interesting is how the reader is both involved, and detached simultaneously (bringing me to the next point...)

Characters: Are sufficiently flat and underdeveloped, working both to keep the reader from empathizing too greatly with a victim, while also serving to support the satirical edge that in life, nobody gets too close. Patrick's monotonous lifestyle of work, working out, renting videos and spotting Les Miserables posters is all too familiar. He (as so many other characters in the book) cannot tell one acquaintance from another. Everyone in Patrick's world looks alike, corporate paper dolls with trophy wives/ lovers.

Structure: Easton uses run-on sentences and fragments to simulate the breakdown of Bateman's mind. Some chapters will end with an incomplete thought, others will explode with angry stream-of-consciousness.

Satire: The violence in the novel is not simply a gruesome, gratuitous tool. Granted, Bateman conceives of some of the most "innovative" murder scenes around, yet Bateman is raging against his deadened society, trying to "feel something." Bateman's actions mock everything our capitalistic society holds dear--wealth, status, the rat race, the American dream.

What Doesn't Work:

Real or Illusion? Readers wonder if Ellis has created a scenario where all of the events are completely fabricated in Bateman's mind. Some ambiguity in the plot leads to this conclusion--a maid cleaning his apartment after a slaughter and "not noticing anything," dry cleaners ignoring repeated bloodstains on dress shirts, a realtor selling an acquaintance's apartment after Bateman left a grisly tableau behind (which is later inexplicably cleaned & unreported to police--by whom?) This uncertainty may frustrate you.

So now when I hear "It's so violent, too graphic, what's the point?" I wonder if it refers to the innovative novel, American Psycho, or perhaps life itself? You decide. Pick up a copy! Another book I need to recommend -- completely unrelated to Ellis, but very much on my mind since I purchased it off Amazon is "The Losers' Club: Complete Restored Edition" by Richard Perez, an exceptional, highly entertaining little novel I can't stop thinking about.

English teachers everywhere decry the shocking decline of literary merit in the deluge of writing to be found on the shelves of bookstores today. Most authors are content to write passingly entertaining stories that contain no more impact than the weight of the book itself. American Psycho, however, rides the line.

Like all works of literary merit, A.P. requires a reader of some patience and discerning knowledge, especially at its onset, where the anti-hero, Patrick Bateman, painstakingly details the clothing, fragrances, and routines of himself and the satellite characters. As his madness begins to dominate his life, these lists shorten, indicating that Patrick's only concept of sanity is tied into the ridiculous and meaningless value statements society has placed on such things as Pierre Cardin luggage and designer eyewear.

Some reviewers have called Patrick an emotionless character, when nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, it is Patrick's emotion that compels him to kill. Ellis has so delicately woven the more revealing aspects of Bateman's cruel soul into the sometimes benumbing lists of status symbols that the point can be easily lost (reading these reviews, that much is obvious), but the truth is, Ellis has a point. A powerful one.

He tips his hand somewhat in the last four or five pages of the book, when a yuppie named Price discusses the inconsistencies between Regan's outward appearances and his inner personality. This is where the novel's metaphors find their strongest purchase, and so become the most heavy-handed, but it remains a fine conclusion to a meticulously created story.

Of course, the book is severe and explicit, but not for shock's sake and not for the same reason that, say, pornography is. Although Bateman's flat candor when discussing his actions is often deeply disturbing, more so is the response he receives when he attempts to confess, to share, to purge his evil by exposing it to the light of day. The light of day, this novel seems to say, can be just as deceptive, discouraging, and ineffective as anything else, and when Patrick's bloodlust finally does seep into his daylight hours, and his hold on his sanity begins to slip for good, nothing really changes.

Perhaps the best contrivance of the book is that Patrick lives in a world of indistinguishable stereotypes. Very few characters, in fact, know who anyone else is, and so they are all referred to alternately by half a dozen different names. Again, although Ellis' point grows somewhat obtuse during these points, the impact remains just as pointed as his more subtler themes.

For those of you who prefer to stick to beach books, hard-boiled thrillers, and light romances, this is not your cup of tea. For those of you who are wondering what actually happened to literature and if the novel as art is in fact dead, then you should sit down with American Psycho and be horrifyingly refreshed.

First, a word of warning to those who are actually INTERESTED in the gratuitous gore advertised in this book: it's sandwiched between full chapters of descriptions of the most inane garbage I've ever seen. The author will literally spend a page or two describing the clothes of everyone at the dinner table. And a one sentence description per person won't do, of course. You'll get a paragraph describing Patrick's Allen Edmonds shoes, Boss suit, Calvin Klein shirt, Armani accessories, etc. Then, you'll get another paragraph for every other buffoon he's with. If that's not enough for you, you'll also get the same treatment for home furnishings whenever Patrick has the misfortune to go to a new location. For those of you familiar with Bret Easton Ellis, it's WORSE than the similar descriptions in Less Than Zero. Why does he think people are interested in this? Is he that dull a person?

Now, for those of you who want to avoid the aforementioned gratuitous gore: DO NOT READ THIS BOOK. I literally felt sick to my stomach at some scenes described in here. This is NOT due to amazing descriptive imagery by the author. Any fool can come up with descriptions of a graphic torture scene. Let's see -- a knife to the eye(make sure to include a description of the eyeball popping!), then a few stabs to the breasts...or should I make those bites? Oh yeah! I forgot to disembowel him/her!

Lastly, for those who are neither pro/anti gore and are just curious for an interesting plot: this "plot" is worthless. The wannabe-cool nihilism you find in Less Than Zero is here in full effect. Maybe Ellis is trying to contrast his flat writing "style" with the graphic content, but it doesn't work.
His next book will probably be about a homeless person, with graphic descriptions of bodily secretions for shock value, and detailed descriptions about the brand of duct tape that his homeless friends use for socks to bore us to death.

Why did I read this book then? I didn't, really. I started reading it because Less Then Zero had some little promise, and I wanted to see if Ellis had fixed the problems with his writing(he didn't). After the first half, I skimmed the rest, mostly because I wanted to see the main character get his comeuppance. He doesn't, of course.

I do consider Bret Easton Ellis to be one of the great young writers of his generation, but this book seems too intent on pushing the limits of graphic depiction of violence and I felt that detracted, rather than added to the book. It is tough to read and I'm not squeemish. What kept me going, was curiousity over how much of what was happening was real, and how much is being dreamed up by a schizophrenic mind but that really is left totally open. Be warned, there are graphic depictions of torture, murder, and dismemberment. But Ellis is a good writer and the novel is well written for sure. I enjoyed Less than Zero, and the Informers far more than this book.

Patrick Bateman embodies the epitome of American materialism and consumerism. Furthermore, he is proof that one can have it all, monetarily speaking, and yet still have insatiable desires. Alas, money is definitely not everything. He's a mere pawn at the hands of corporate America whose existence is truly devoid of real substance. When not working on wallstreet, club hopping, or buying designer label items, Patrick Bateman lives an alternate lifestyle. During the day, he seems like any other normal man trying to make a living in Manhattan. His personal life, however, is extremely morbid and quite gruesome.

Ellis takes the reader inside the mind of the worst kind of serial killer. One who's cool, calm, collected, and yet randomly and intermittently irrational when succumbing to his desires. It's never quite clear to the reader what Bateman's motives are, nor is it at all evident that he understands his motives himself. This certainly serves to enhance this blatantly disturbing experience. Furthermore, the melodramatic first-person narrative is overtly passive, making it all the more unsettling.

The author does a wonderful job in this novel of depicting some of societies shortcomings. Our materialistic society is so wrapped up in fashion and technology that it's disgusting. In addition, we live in a world where violence is so commonplace that we've become numb to so much of it. Ellis uses Bateman's torturous murders to mirror these trends. With each killing, Bateman becomes more and more violent and gruesome. The same old style fails to excite him, and new techniques need to be persued.

This novel is definitely not for the easily disturbed, as it is probably the most horrifically disgusting and disturbing book I have read. I can certainly understand why this book was so incredibly controversial when it came out. However, it is also a great piece of modern literature. My only complaint is that Ellis drills into the reader's head the concept of materialism. Bateman's descriptions of attire can make for rather tedious reading, and at times made me want to put the book down.

Also recommended: "Exquisite Corpse" by Poppy Z Brite and "Catcher in the Rye" by J.D. Salinger

1. This 1991 book is an interesting book about the mind of a (potential) psychopath, and about the life of a rich New York high-flyer.

2. I was unsure what we were supposed to to take about the 'killings' as true, and what we were supposed to take as false or unreliable.
Example: Page 219. We're supposed to accept that Paul Owen's body is hauled, in a sleeping bag, past a night doorman, then past some friends who chat, and then into a cab, with no questions asked by the doorman, friends or driver about the sleeping bag with a body shape in it?
Example: Paul Owen is killed and his body is limed. Later his apartment is messed during the gruesome killing of two other victims, with the wall bloodied with the words 'I'm back'. Yet, later on, his apartment is found to be clean and tidy and being sold by an agent; and, further on, Harold Carnes says he 'had dinner with Paul Owen twice in London just ten days ago'. No mention of any police investigation at all into Owen's disappearance. Are we supposed to take Patrick Bateman as so deranged that he is telling us he committed murders he didn't commit (or that the book's really all merely wishful thinking of a successful businessman, and no actual killings occurred?), or are we supposed to take Harold Carnes as a corrupt lawyer who is in on some sort of strange and unexplained cover-up, or mistaken? We are not told, so we have no way of reconciling this.
Example: Chapter 'Valentine's Day' (p.382) begins: "...the maid as she waxes the floor, wipes blood smears off the walls, throws away gore-soaked newspapers without a word...". So, what are we supposed to make of that? She's so blind she can't recognise a crime scene? She's stupid? Or, no murders occurred in reality? (Similar comment for the bloodied sheets at the Chinese dry cleaners).
Example: So many killings described, but (apart from the saxophonist killing), a general police hunt doesn't get mentioned, and Bateman seems unworried about being caught to the point where he rarely refers to it. What do we make of that? Did he kill really?

3. The Huey Lewis, Genesis and Whitney Houston chapters appeared to be irrelevant, as did the fifteen pages of 'Just where are we going to eat?' dialogue in the 'Another Night' chapter. Those pages should have been deleted by an editor before this book went to print.

4. The purpose of not finishing the chapter called 'A glimpse of a Thursday afternoon', and just ending it in mid-sentence on p.152 was lost on me. Was that a misprint or deliberate? Did it have a point?

5. The book was built on too many repetitive gimmicks: The Patty Winters show stuff; The hundreds of 'She's/he's wearing' descriptions; the Les Miserables references; expensive meals; beggar obsession; beggar teasing; we went to eat...; video returning; I had two hours down the gym etc.

6. The book was longer than it needed to be.

7. The ending was flat and disappointing.

8. This book is a good example of how to write dialogue well. The portrayal of the yuppie lifestyle was done well.

Overall: It was a good piece of writing, but was spoilt by trying to be too clever. The writer could have produced a better book by making it half the length it is, and having fewer gimmicks in it.

For a better read of the macabre, do go and read: 'The Wasp Factory' by Iain Banks. That's a brilliant book.

This book revolves around 26-year-old Patrick Bateman, a successful Manhattan yuppie. He seems normal enough in the beginning of the story, but soon the readers come to realize that Bateman is more than just a little psycho. I liked the movie way better than I liked this book, but the book was... addictive. This book was just awful. I think I've said that 1,000 times now. This book was so awful I had to keep reading it. It was mesmerizing. It was like looking at a car crash. It's horrible, but you can't stop looking.

The obsessive name-dropping and label-whoring annoyed me to no end and the intricate detail of shallow habits was enough to kill me. But I had to know what was going to happen. Add a very anticlimatic ending and feeling of "What's the point?" after it's all over with. I confess that I also skimmed over some of the gorier scenes because it all become redundant and not very shocking after a while. Honestly, I can't think of anything or anyone I actually liked in this book. Reading about pretentious rich people usually doesn't render very many likable moments.

There was one scene that made me die in fits of laughter, and now, I can't remember what it was. Damn, it was the one scene that made me smile. Anyway, this is one of those books that you get something out of with each read. I plan on rereading it in the (distant) future. I feel like I've probably missed small details, and perhaps, I'll enjoy this more in the future.

...

I felt dirty after I read this book, not (only) because of the graphic violence ..., but because I had to wade through stream-of-conciousness tripe to get to the interesting bits (the character's loss of self and general anonymity). It could have been a good book. But Bret Easton Ellis wrote it. If I had remembered that he is also the one who wrote "Less Than Zero", I never would have purchased or read it.

This is one of the few times I have thought a movie to be better than the book it was based on. I was engrossed by the movie ... and its theme. I was angry at Ellis the whole time I read the book. I just had to finish [it]because I thought to myself "Surely, it will explore more thoroughly the theme if I continue, just a couple more pages..."

I am as much of an idiot as Ellis. I read the last page twice because I thought I had missed something.

Social commentary? Sure. Exceptionally good social commentary for what you have to wade through? No way.

With all the gory scenes depicting women being tortured and [word] in the worst way imaginable, it is an incredibly difficult book to read through asking yourself "is all this really necessary?" Apparently Ellis thinks so. But why?

In the end, it all boils down to an excess of violence and [word], and the author fails to do anything but cancel out any interesting ideas with all the blood fantasies and gore. So it gets boring fast. Disgusting, gross, and excessive, but boring none the less.

As one recent reviewer pointed out, this is a book for folks who hate to read. Devoid of nuance, imagination or orignality, American Psycho simply attempts the "blunt object to the back of the head" approach to try to provide shock, while deeply and repetitively underscoring a misanthropic idee fixe, in part by showing as much disrespect to the reader as Pat Bateman shows his victims. I stayed up all night in the Milan train station surrounded by some truly creepy characters, basically amused at the pretentious (stuff) I was reading to stay awake. This isn't satire, unless you count the fact that it has been so highly praised as sort of a satire on modern pop culture. To anyone who goes around talking up this waste of trees I say this, "Read some Irvine Welsh you knuckleheads, or even Chuck Palahniuk, it's infinitely better than this piece of..."
By the way the movie was quite good.