by Bret Easton Ellis
Genre: horror, thriller, classic
Patrick Bateman is handsome, well educated, intelligent. He works by day on Wall Street earning a fortune to complement the one he was born with. His nights he spends in ways we cannot begin to fathom. He is twenty-six years old and living his own American Dream.
review warning about the book (with some profanity)
Awful, awful book – I wish I could give it zero stars. How does it have a rating of 3.80 stars on Goodreads?! Are you kidding me? Who likes this shit?! HOW can you like this book in any way or fashion?
The first half is so boring it nearly drives you to tears. It’s a long list of brand names and clothes items, fancy restaurants and popular bars, people Patrick Bateman knows or just associates with, and the women he abhors but sleeps with anyway. It’s just so… boringly superficial and materialistic, and the conversations these people have make me wonder if there’s one brain cell between them. It’s just nauseating and infuriating, and having to read about
Bateman Ellis hate on everyone just makes you want to hurl the damn book across the room. I started to wonder why their employers don’t have mandatory psychological tests to weed out the crazies (and junkies). Then again – Wall Street. We know what psychologists say about the profiles of some people working there, don’t we. Narcissistic, psychopathic personalities thrive in such an environment. I guess the author was trying to tell us about the self-entitled, bored yuppies, but his book is a mess. I wouldn’t be surprised if he himself indulged in some special substances while writing it.
Patrick Bateman is a disgusting character that you just wish you could erase from memory. And the book is from his point of view – needless to say you can’t connect to any character since he doesn’t connect with anyone. So why is this book on the 1001 Books You Need to Read list? WHY?! Look, Silence of the Lambs has some pretty gory scenes but the book is structured, it has likeable characters, and you never feel the author himself might try his hand at torture. Here, I’m not so sure; there was some pretty fucked up shit in here. Bleach-to-the-brain level shit, people. You really don’t wish to know the details, trust me. I’m not inflicting that upon anyone else. I’d be freaked out if any professor defended this book as some masterpiece becuase what goes on in here comes from a seriously diseased mind.
So not only does the book fail to generate any interest in the reader, the sudden gory fantasies the psycho has about killing people (and women in particular) just throw you for a loop (and might make you want to hurl). You aren’t entirely sure he goes through with all the fantasies he has (and he has more and more of them much to my disgust and horror). He’s doped up on cocaine, pills, and alcohol, so he’s spiralling out of control and the book is just a list of nauseating scenes. I was skipping those (for my own sanity) as well as the long lists of brand items the author indulged in – why not just giving us a catalogue? And what is it about album reviews suddenly popping up in the story? It’s just making an already messy and unreadable book even worse.
So I was actively reading (and not only skimming) the dialogues with the many women in his life. Even there he shows himself to be an absolute misogynistic, racist pig. I also wish to pretend half the murders he talks about in the story happened only in his head; please don’t tell me it’s otherwise. Please. I may say I’m good with mature themes but I don’t watch horror movies for a reason. Some things I just don’t need to see or read about, ok. Life is cruel enough on its own.
Stay away from this story or you’ll be slowly driven mad with alternating boredom and horror. It’s just not worth your time and I would have closed the book after the first chapter if it weren’t for my reading challenge. I’m firm in my conviction I won’t ever watch the movie. Just nope.