American Psycho

It's an extremely dark read. This book took me to places I had no wish to go and never wish to return to. However, as a literary work I believe it has merit. Some reviewers here have complained about the one-dimensionality of the novel, the fact that there's no plot, there's no one to like, no-one to root for. Well, I'm sorry, but why should there be? To massage the reader's ego? To pander to his or her risk of boredom? It's my opinion that everything in this book has been very carefully considered by the author. The book is told through the first person p.o.v of Patrick Bateman, who is a self-admitted psychopath whose "mask of sanity" is slipping more and more as the book unfolds. Thus we see everything through his eyes, and the flat, emotion-free witness of his mind. For instance no mention is ever made of how anyone feels. He has no empathy with others. All he can do is describe what he sees, surface, always surface. Hence the interminable lists of what everyone is wearing. Bateman both hides behind, and is comforted by the uniform of designer labels, the right accessories. He senses he needs to hide, and wants desperately to 'fit in'. At the same time that he can instantly recognize what everyone is wearing, he can hardly recognize who anyone else is. In the world of Wall Street he inhabits, everyone apparently looks the same. The novel is full of mistaken identity, not only by him, but by his fellow Wall Street workers, a fact which he exploits to his advantage. This not knowing who anybody is adds to the general sense of depersonalisation throughout the book, already a problem for Bateman. The author, at least for me, does a brilliant job of capturing the inner mind of a psychopath. For instance, he juxtaposes horrific or traumatic events (of which there are many) with mundane pronouncements from Bateman, for instance what he saw on tv that morning. A chapter which ends after a lengthy, detailed and harrowing description of torture and murder is followed by one discussing the talents of 80s popstars in equal and cheerful detail. This adds to the sense that Bateman can't relate to his crimes emotionally, has no remorse or sense of guilt. They are merely events which pass in his life, no more or less meaningful than other events, a tv show or a new CD. It's quite a brilliant stylistic move by the author to pull this off. On the subject of the murders, I must here warn the unwary reader. Having seen the movie version several years ago, which kind-of glosses over those parts of the book, I was unprepared for the level of detail and forensic description here-in. In some ways it's a novel of 2 halves, the first half being quite a mundane and reasonably sane description of the minutae of Bateman's affluent New York lifestyle. It starts to lull you after a while, and when the horror eventually begins it's a genuine shock. And it is truly horrific. In fact I can't think of another book to match it. I consider myself quite broadminded but I had a couple of moments when I actually felt physically queasy while reading. But I didn't see the violence as gratuitous., as some have, merely there to shock. It all adds to the portrait of Bateman the psychopath that is the book's goal. Is it, as many have said, a satire on 80s culture and the yuppie lifestyle? Perhaps it can be read that way, but I don't think it has to be to have worth. It's a brilliantly imagined, conceived and written portrait of a diseased psychopathic character, sometimes tragic, sometimes comic, sometimes monstrous. Another brilliant move Ellis pulls sis somehow to have Bateman remain, if not a likeable character, then somehow sympathetic. It's necessary, otherwise the reader wouldn't be able to stick with him to the end of the book. He is both terrifying and yet often vulnerable, sometimes even pathetic. It's not an easy thing for the author to pull off. I think he succeeds. Is there an obvious ending to the book? Does the monster receive justice at the hands of the authorities? Of course not. And good thing too. That would have been far too obvious and moralistic for a book like this. At one point mid way through the book he has to face an interview from a detective, during which he completely panics, and reader expectation is that he will eventually be caught, but it leads to nothing. His status and wealth is a disguise seemingly impossible to penetrate. Even when he comes out and confesses to people his crimes, which he often does, they don't really hear or believe him, thinking it a dark joke. One reading of the book, and the way the film played it, is that all the horror is merely Bateman's fantasy and never actually occurs. But this is never explicitly spelt out. It's not the way I read it. The way I see it I think Bateman really does these things, and no-one around him can see it. I think sometimes he wishes someone would see him for what he is, but is doomed to be forever misunderstood, unrecognized. It's quite a brilliant book, and rewards careful reading, but you have been warned: not for the fainthearted!

This book and the movie seem to have a lot of critical acclaim, I see why, there is definitely an insight into the world of "yuppies" and highlights just how obsessed society is with wealth and material objects. It made me stop and think and I suppose that makes it a successful book. Aside from the actual meaning of the book I have to say the content of the book itself is lots of incredibly mundane descriptions of every person via what designer clothes they are wearing, pages of discussing what restaurant reservations should be made at and even chapters literally just discussing a musician and their body of work. On the other hand there are chapters based on descriptions of Bateman carrying out extremely depraved acts of torture and other general violence, including on animals, although the author seems to make a point of "skimming over" animal abuse in comparison to the detailed and gruesome descriptions of torture carried out on the human victims. It was almost unreadable (or completely unreadable for some) during a few of these scenes and I have a fairly strong stomach! I absolutely understand why many people have to put the book down. Throughout the book Bateman will be describing something normal, mundane and everyday before you are randomly hit with a casual confession of some kind of murder/torture etc. and this keeps you in a suspenseful state throughout the book. Often after a brutal scene it'll switch back to something incredibly boring and this is definitely very jarring. Although I believe there is a lot of interesting social commentary throughout looking at racism, sexism and capitalism in particular, you can also get a sense of this from the movie without having to slog through the boredom and deal with the disgust of the violent scenes. Personally I do think it's not really worth the read, it definitely has its moments and looking at it in a more broad manner it's a good book but actually getting through it is a challenge. If you do decide to read it, I hope you have a strong stomach for your sake.

First of all buy the book you know you want to its a piece of must have literature and like many of the greats, including Lady Chatterly's Lover and Lolita it was banned by some publishers, which only served to increase the hype surrounding it, plus Ellis got to keep his $30,000 initial payout from the publishers, game on. Australia would only sell it to over eighteens and shrink wrapped. Some publishers have kept up this tradition, which Ellis has been quoted to have said is 'adorable'. Secondly don't give up. I got half way through and was in despair. I'd already read and loved Glamorama, in contrast this seemed disturbing, dirty, upsetting..... BUT THEN it got better and i got it, the brutality, the narcissism all serve to hammer home a point..... capitalism and isolation and consumerism are scaring the crap out of everyone. I loved Bateman, at the end; the ambiguity of the novel leaves you unsure whether he really killed anybody at all. Are these characters just dead to him, is his mind wandering, shocking, scaring himself for the grin of it to escape the greyness and blandness of office life. Or is he a psycho killer? A product of Capitalism. Who knows. If you like him as much as me you'll probably not want to believe he is capable, but then again can you really love a serial killer? Ellis's ability to invoke feelings of love, understanding and forgiveness towards such an appalling human being, is testament to his talent as a writer and character builder. Its a brilliant book, it got made into a film so clearly it is, please read it and love it like me. I read it on Kindle, because i find it far easier to read from my tablet and make notes to myself than from a book (tablets are the new vcrs, yo) Afterthought..... despite the many critiques I've read humming and harring over whether Bateman did kill his victims and not just imagine it, what about the part of the book where he is being chased by the police and for the only time the novel is told from the perspective of a mystery person, not Patrick Bateman the usual protagonist? In the third person, factually, like a news bulletin. Is the temporary, unknown narrator also lying? I doubt this but the uncertainty is I guess the beauty of the novel and what makes it so endearing and memorable. Perhaps the moral for the greater good etc is that you never know who you're sat next to in a restaurant, chatting to in a bar.... They could indeed be a serial killer so just be careful folks, and listen to what people say, it might be important and don't be so superficial, stop buying shit, stop cheating, be nicer to your family okay thats tons of points but the first is the most important :)

American Psycho is about Patrick Bateman, an excessively privileged 27 year old man living in a world of excessively privileged people. His apparent lack of purpose in life causes him deep mental problems. The content of American Psycho is bizarre. Everyone's clothes are described in minute detail, there is a lot of dining out where everyone's food is also described in minute detail. Lots of acquaintances flit in and out, most of whom are mistaken for someone else. Almost every conversation is pointless and nonsensical. Bateman spends a lot of time renting and returning video rentals, and every day notes the subject of the Patty Winters Show(?). The violence takes a long time to creep in, but once it does, it becomes more regular. It is very unpleasant and some will find it difficult to stomach. (Tip: if you're one of these, it may be an idea to pass on novels about deranged serial killers). For his victims, Bateman has a taste for attractive young women, but doesn't mind meting out the punishment to men or animals either. Bateman is one sick puppy. American Psycho doesn't really go anywhere, and the constant descriptions and banal conversations make for a tedious read. However, after reading the brief blurb and the Afterword of the book, I completely understand why Brett Easton Ellis wrote his novel in this way; he is making a point. My rating is 5/10, rounded up to 3 stars, representing the fact that although at no time did I enjoy the novel, it has an important place on the literary shelf as it represents something different and challenging. As the blurb says, a bleak, bitter, black comedy.

I bought and read this paperback edition on recommendation from a friend after finishing 1984 and Brave New World. It hasn't disappointed. I must stress, it's been a while since I saw the movie American Psycho, though this has now been added to my Lovefilm rental list. I see a lot of negative reviews about this book; not just because of its graphically violent and perverse content (the splatter / gore movies such as Saw or the Hostel series possibly make that a moot point now) but because of the way it is written. If you're not too sure of the plot of American Psycho, the blurb on the back page sums it up well: Patrick Bateman is twenty-six and works on Wall Street; he is handsome, sophisticated, charming and intelligent. He is also a psychopath. Taking us to a head-on collision with America's greatest dream - and its worst nightmare - American Psycho is a bleak, bitter, black comedy about a world we all recognize but do not wish to confront. In the way I interpret this book, it's easy to counter head-on people's negative comments on Ellis' writing. Most complains are on the prose; lengthy paragraphs string together names of designers, style of garb and struggles to get reservations at top (and seemingly short-lived) restaurants. Every character in this novel is interchangeable; our protagonist Bateman is constantly mistaken for other yuppies, and likewise, he often has trouble identifying anyone outside of his close social circle. But even for his close "friends" we find no more to describe them than the clothes they wear, and the quality of their business card in comparison to Bateman's own (which causes him no end of distress). Patrick Bateman only comes alive - only seems to notice people - when is either stalking them for, or in the act of murdering them. At these points in the novel (and the murders in graphic detail only start a third of the way through the book, though one is alluded to right at the start) Bateman (through Ellis) describes in graphic closeness the way a person looks - their facial expressions, their reaction to what is happening, and more importantly, Bateman's own reactions to the situations. A pyschopath Bateman clearly is; the mastery of the writing in this book leaves no doubt in the reader's mind as to that fact. The way he explores the detachment of the rising social class of the 80's has to be admired. Yes, the lengthy paragraphs of designer-clad yuppies scrutinising hardbodies can be bland and repetitive; pretty much like the world Ellis is showing us. The juxtaposition of this blandness against the shocking depth of analysis when Bateman is alternately screwing, torturing or, for want of a more decent turn of phrase, defacing his dead victims is undeniably effective. A fine read. If you can stomach it.

Last read in 2005, and now re-read as part of a chronological reading of all of Bret Easton Ellis's novels up to 'Lunar Park' in order to appreciate the latter novel and to have a grounding for the opening chapter in Graham Matthews's book 'Ethics and desire in the wake of postmodernism' (2012): 'Fear and uncertainty in BEE's 'Lunar Park'. 2016 is the 25th anniversary of publication - and several factors surprised me, not least that Donald Trump is the revered icon of this Wall Street rat pack, sightings (usually false), invitations to his parties, the reading of his 1987 book ‘The art of the deal’ ("He makes one believe in the American Dream again" - The New York Times) are de rigueur. That DT is now running for President is both bizarre and disturbing, no doubt an irony that BEE would view as a logical progression as these lost souls hover around Hades successfully alienating working class Americans, women, immigrants and beggars, not to mention Bateman's additional cruelties. The endless commodification doesn't necessarily date the book, though I'm not that au fait with what's in or out these days, I did find that they added quaintness & flavour, with so many named brands that I did recognize still fighting it out at the 'top' 25 years on. Re-reading was a very different experience, I'd forgotten so much, and the book was a lot funnier than I remember it. The absence of books (Trump excepted) and the emphasis on film and music - video cassettes and CDs, chimed with my experience when I mentioned to friends that I was re-reading AP - almost all asked if I'd seen the film? Most hadn't read the book; no I've not seen the film - it sits unwatched in a dark cupboard beneath the HD Panasonic TV 27-inch-wide screen with enhanced cinema sound and sub... I don't think I should see the film, apart from my tolerances (growing less as I get older) ‘the horror’ is best imagined. It is a classic book of late capitalist grand guignol and it still chomps at the nerves 25 years on

This book is not a masterpiece for sure but it is quite interesting due to its serious and humorous notes. On the serious side: First of all there is the insight given about the deranged mind of the main character. Throughout the whole book it is uncertain if he really has committed those gruesome acts of torture and murder or all of it is a product of some sort of hallucination. It remains as well unclear if he is really Patrick Bateman, given the amount of times he is mistaken for someone else. There is as well the intention by the author to make the reader experience the pain and desperation of torture in first person. This is accomplished by pages and pages of excruciating long and useless narrative such as the chapters dedicated to Mr. Bateman's favorite musical albums. A pounding migraine appeared for several instances while reading the book: I felt the pain, my word!. On the funny side: To my great pleasure this book is also a very comical piece of writing. Mr. Bateman is so eager to please, be noticed by his peers and fit within the Manhattan social sphere that he continuously ridicules himself. The way he describes all the clothing up to the most extreme detail, his OCD with shopping only prime goods, or his nervous crisis over a better business card than his is a brilliant picture of how comically desperate he is to be noticed. And yet in his misfortune, most of people do not know his name, or where he works, or where he did his studies or most importantly, do not give a rat's behind about any of this. It gives a good sarcastic picture about how some people while trying to achieve everything end up having nothing in reality. Reminds me dearly of my partner's ex. Great good laugh.

I know it’s a bit of cliche now but the main problem with this book is that there’s too much American and not enough Psycho. Having said that I wish someone would do a Sensitivity Reader version of this and remove all the murders, misogynistic rapes, torture, mutilations, racism, sexism, the endless lists of clothing and the relentless and often gratuitous references to Les Miserables. I think if excised of all that a wonderful and enlightening book would emerge. And that Patrick Bateman eh?!? Is he a rascal or what? If you could talk to him what would you say? ‘You’ve been a naughty boy Patrick and you’ve developed some very, very peculiar habits. This will not do’. Wagging your finger sternly. Some will say that this book is a social satire or that Patrick’s adventures represents the logical conclusion of late capitalism (how do they know we’re in late capitalism anyways? Do they know when capitalism is going to end?). But they are wrong. This book is not bigger than itself. There’s no great message, no life changing insights, no victory over darkness. It is all sound and fury signifying nothing. As Oscar Wilde once wrote ‘There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written or badly written’. Well, I didn’t find any spelling errors so American Psycho gets a thumb’s up from me!

Finished it in 3 days then regretted not taking my time with it.

Wow... mais qu'est-ce que je viens de lire?... Je me souviens avoir tenté de lire American Psycho adolescente... et d'avoir laissé tombé car la lecture en avait été très pénible. Ce livre c'est, à travers les yeux de Patrick Bateman, le reflet d'une société du paraître déshumanisée, où l'argent est roi, où l'on peut du premier coup d'oeil distinguer un costume Dior d'un Armani mais où personne ne se rappelle le nom de son collègue de travail. American Psycho c'est aussi le reflet d'une société à 100 à l'heure mais où l'ennui est profond. Dans un quotidien millimétré entre salle de sport, restaurants chics et boites de nuit, la narration est pourtant lourde et nauséeuse, détaillant les vêtements pendant des lignes et des lignes, racontant le quotidien de cette jeunesse dorée avec une platitude et une linéarité qui ne donnent qu'une envie: fermer ce livre pour de bon. American psycho c'est enfin et surtout l'histoire d'un psychopathe qui, derrière le masque respectable de la fortune, cache des pulsions de morts plus abjectes les unes que les autres. Beaucoup n'arrivent pas à finir ce roman car plus on avance dans la lecture, plus celle-ci devient lourde, malsaine. Tout y est décrit de façon lisse, stérile, clinique. Aucune émotion ne transparait dans la narration de Bateman (si ce n'est quelques crises d'angoisse quand son petit monde est bouleversé), aucune empathie, rien qu'une description froide que ce soit des vêtements, des repas mais aussi du sexe, des meurtres... Tout est au même niveau. C'est cette narration si distante qui rebute, ce vide profond du personnage. Car Bateman n'est rien, ne ressent rien. En cela il est presque mort et cela on le ressent rapidement dès les premiers chapitres. Même sans les scènes gore (et dieu sait que j'en lis du gore, pourtant les scènes d'American Psycho m'ont profondément perturbée) on se sent mal à l'aise. Bateman n'est pas normal, pas humain, pas vivant. Et il est très perturbant de suivre ses pensées. Plus le récit avance plus la confusion est grande. La lecture est de plus en plus angoissante car Bateman lui aussi perd les pédales. On en vient à se poser des questions: folie, fantasme? Où est la vérité? Que peut-on croire? Plus on lit et plus on se sent oppressé, confiné dans cet esprit malade, dégoûté de cette accumulation de richesses, de marques, de repas et ce vide émotionnel total. American Psycho est lourd, très lourd et très malsain. Un roman qui vous plombe. Ce n'est définitivement pas un livre à la portée de tout le monde. Mais c'est un livre qui en vaut la peine.

Great book

Amazing book, just as good as when I read it first a few years ago.

Bret Easton Ellis’ novel, American Psycho, has just about as a precarious history as the contents held within its blood splattered pages. First released by Simon & Schuster in early 1991 and soon after quickly sold to Vintage by the publisher for undisclosed reasons and for an undisclosed sum of money. For us folks doing a review in 2015, almost a quarter of a century down the road, this sounds quite bizarre for a publisher to boot such a phenomenal piece of horror fiction -- however, apparently during the early 90’s, American Psycho was received a tad bit differently than one might expect today. Today, American Psycho is heralded as a postmodern cult classic, used no less in hip English lit classes and sociology classes, hell maybe even psychology classes, and if teachers were really smart, criminology classes! Its very strange looking back at American Psycho’s first release and reading all the vile contemptuous swings reviewers and readers and the media alike took at Ellis. Especially considering how during the same year Silence of the Lambs was released theatrically and went on to win dozens of awards, including: The Academy Award for Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Director, etc. etc. How can a movie and book about cannibalism, the most taboo thing imaginable, shine with audiences while at the same time American Psycho can be chased away by a mob with flaming torches and pitch forks? According to Ellis, who stated in a somewhat recent interview, “It was feminists and The New York Times. Hand-wringing liberals [who] were upset about ‘American Psycho.’ I don't think there was a single peep from conservatives or anyone like that. It was a liberal witch hunt and I was at the center of it” (The Oregonian, 2010). In a previous interview with Roger Cohen, from the New York Times, back during his books initial release, in response to the numerous death threats he had received in the mail, Mr. Ellis said that he “had no idea the novel would provoke the reception it's gotten, and I still don't quite get it” (New York Times, 1991). It is so bizarre how Anthony Hopkins chewing some dudes face off can be considered highbrow, while American Psycho, which had more to say regarding the quiet submission to consumerism and desensitization of the silent majority than any other work of fiction at the time, can be held with such contempt. In retrospect of heavy criticisms, Mr. Ellis follows with one of the most profound statements regarding the craft of writing, something I believe all writers should well remember, when he states: “You do not write a novel for praise, or thinking of your audience. You write for yourself; you work out between you and your pen the things that intrigue you” (New York Times, 1991). And with American Psycho, as this humble reviewer understands it, Ellis was “working out” how society during the late 1980’s had considered the “surface” things, such as: food, clothes, money, etc., to be the only means in which a person can be defined. And this comment on society becomes obviously apparent and satirically metaphorical when you begin to read his book. In the very first pages, Ellis numbs the mind by using the narrator, Patrick Bateman, who also so happens to be a complete lunatic, to list off in excruciating detail all the many “surface” things he sees on the day to day, such as: designer suits, Walkman’s, music, movies, furniture, TV shows, restaurants, food, etc., etc. These things are important to him, while at the same time, not important. Even the murders are so brutally detailed, eventually at least (the book does have a sense of pace to it), that we become, in a way, desensitized to the violence just as much as we are desensitized to the material. Everything becomes banal. Here is what Pat Bateman has to say for himself towards the end of the book after he emerges from a near-psychotic break: “There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there…” (American Psycho, pgs. 376-377). The above statement was made popular with the release of the theatrical version of the book, staring Christian Bale, back in 2000. And the madman goes on, of course. Bateman questions the very banality of evil, “is evil something we are or something we do?” etc. etc. And by the end, he finds what we “normal” folks might consider to be the deeper things in life, such as: war and politics, family, discoveries, sunrises, heroes, falling in love, blah-blah-blah, to be also utterly dull. Bateman can only find one clear emotion within him, greed – oh and perhaps, as he suggested -- disgust. The most pungent scene, for me, that invokes this macabre bland worldview is at the beginning of the book. Patrick is waiting on Patricia who so happens to be late for their date. When she finally arrives, Patrick narrates, nonchalantly, that she is safe from his knife, safe from him cutting open her throat and watching her bleed with mild disinterest, not because of any kind of luck, and not really because she comes from a wealthy stock, but simply and callously because Bateman made the choice. Bateman states: “Patricia will stay alive, and this victory requires no skill, no leaps of the imagination, no ingenuity on anyone’s part. This is simply how the world, my world, moves” (American Psycho, pg. 282). When I first read this line…my bones were chilled by the eerie ordinariness of it. The stylization is so humdrum you can actually feel madness slipping on like an old pair of slippers as you read the narrators ghastly horrific plunge further down into the rabbit-hole. When he finally emerges, you’re expecting some earth shattering revelation, but his only revelation is that nothing matters. It is what it is. He is what he is. The world is what it is. And there is nothing special in that. And there is nothing special in monotony. When thinking what American Psycho means to me in 2015, I’m struck by an overwhelming sadness in how some horror books and movies are never appreciated in their day. The heinous reception of American Psycho in 1991 and how it has now become this beloved cult classic reminds me so much of John Carpenter’s adaptation of “Who Goes There” with The Thing (1982). Both were completely hated and bashed by not only critics (which we should expect) but also by audiences. American Psycho stands out to me, not only because of its quip attitude toward yuppie culture during the 1980’s, an excellent timepiece for modern day writers to resource, but also because you can feel the character, the crazed loon, desperately trying to be normal even though he is anything but normal, till the end when he finally snaps and the story whips from first person to third and finally back to first when Pat Bateman realizes there is no “normal.” It’s oddly human and somewhat farcical, something we might even call dark comedy. Everyone around Bateman is, in a lot of ways, similar to one another. They have little to no empathy towards others, not even with each other. This is often seen in not only how they talk and what they discuss, what’s of importance to them, but in how grossly they mistreat the homeless, which during the 80’s was witness to some of the highest percentages in American history. And the very same brutal detail in what they wear and what they eat and who they sleep with. In this, they are mirror images. The only difference, the only way Patrick sets himself apart, is his murderous and sexual appetites (though you could argue his sexual desires are also in line with everyone else). But this is all beneath the “surface,” and when it comes to the criticisms of the book, perhaps those same voices who threatened Bret’s life could only see what was floating on top. On the “surface” are the boring albeit grim details of every little aspect in Pat Bateman’s life, the clothes, the music, the food, the women, and even the way he imagines lacerating those same women. Beneath are metaphors, how we see society, how we place value on meaningless things, how we look at those around us as things, how we’ve become completely callous toward suffering. This is why the book is still so popular and important for readers today. If we can get past the brutality and sink our heads beneath the lapping waves of the mundane, to peer into the depths of consequentialism, for a moment at least, before we’re gasping up for air, we can walk away with some realization or dare I say an awakening. If even for only a moment. If you have yet to read Bret Easton Ellis’ 1991 masterpiece, American Psycho -- well, as the saying goes: there is no time like the present. Just be forewarned that the book is written from the first person perspective. Today, few stories are told from the first person narration. Personally, the only first person stories I’ve read are Lovecraftian. However, I suggest you give the book a fair amount of patience. And patience you will need. As mentioned in my review above, the author goes into grave detail about everything. You will be numbed -- but isn’t that the point?