American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
Wow. Yuck. Is this really us? Could we really be this society? Is this really a satire? Or just a disturbing stream-of-consciousness rant by a writer with a razor-sharp but slightly sick intellect and the desire to shock the shit out of us? Was this really written 20 years ago? I wonder if Easton Ellis thinks we’ve become worse or better? That’s the quick version – no answers, no real verdict, just a bunch of questions. I decided to read this as Easton Ellis has recently released a new book, and you can’t read a review of him without at least a passing reference to American Psycho.
The blurb on the back says: ‘American Psycho is a bleak, bitter, black comedy about a world we all recognize but do not wish to confront’. That sounds a bit grand to me. I don’t have to ask why he wrote it. Look around you at the escalation of materialism, greed, vice and violence and you’ll understand it too. On the other hand, I read this 20 years after it was published, and the world is a little different.
There’s no storyline. You don’t know how much time passes and whether things are in order. You don’t even know if everything is real. There are definitely points where Easton Ellis is messing with you. Bateman murders a person, then people tell him they had lunch with the person in London less than week previously. They’re anxious, even, to convince him. Could it be true? Did Bateman imagine killing him? Or is everyone just so oblivious that they’ve convinced themselves he’s still alive?
In these moments Easton Ellis shows great satirical subtlety. I can imagine him raising an eyebrow and smirking to himself as he wrote it. Or maybe he was feverishly banging away on a word processor, so caught up in Bateman’s unblinking view of the world that he didn’t pick up on it. Bateman never doubts himself, never second guesses his actions or opinions. It doesn’t seem to occur to him that he might be imagining things.
American Psycho is really, really, really violent. It’s like a car crash – you know you shouldn’t want to look at it, but you can’t help it. And you’ll get the same mix of emotions: sorrow, horror, fascination, wonderment, a bit of shame for looking and gratitude that it wasn’t you. Not the nicest mix, but it’s pretty real. Read it if you like satire, Jack Kerouac and Stephen King. Don’t read it if gore, chaos or some self-analysis bother you.
| Title: American Psycho |
| Author: Bret Easton Ellis |
| Format: Paperback, 416 pages |
| Publisher: Pan Macmillan |
