I don't usually bother giving negative reviews here, but I feel it's time to nail my colours to the mast and identify a few problematic titles. Problem #1: American Psycho.

It's funny how many people qualify their glowing reviews of this book with the words 'I didn't enjoy it but...,' as if it contained some bitter but necessary medicine. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I would have thought even a disturbing book, movie, song or painting should at least be enjoyable on some level if it's to gain its audience's love, and if it can't gain that love then it's certainly not worthy of glowing reviews. To me, American Psycho is damn near loveless, its murder scenes especially, and I don't buy the line that there's anything medicinal in those scenes either.

What we have here is 2 books, or better, a book and a bunch of uninspired self-consciously provocative crap tacked onto it for the sake of controversy. Ellis said it himself: for the most part, American Psycho was just him writing out his frustration at his life, which corresponded closely, for the most part, to Patrick Bateman's; the murder scenes were added later. This is a telling admission. While there's something mildly enjoyable about Ellis ripping apart (in prose) the yuppies he obviously knows so well, the tone changes entirely every time a character is ripped apart for real. Satire? Yeah, parts of American Psycho are satirical, but not the violent parts - they are flat, vacant, bland. And it's a sad thing, that this young, lost, numbed writer felt the need to dress up his comedy of manners in wolf's clothing. You can imagine why he did it. Not for money necessarily, but from the same misguided notion that leads his fans to believe there is something medicinal in torturing themselves by reading this shit: the poor sap thought he was writing something 'important'! Well I'm sorry, but the only important thing about American Psycho is that it illustrates - by its existence, by its success - something deeply wrong with the society that gave birth to it. Any dickhead with a halfway decent grasp of prose could have written this splatter-porn; on the level of artistry it's dull as dull can be. But it illustrates something: the banality of evil. Brett Easton Ellis is no more a psycho than you or me, nor does he demonstrate any deep knowledge of what a psycho might be. But by parading his numbness, his naivety, his insensitivity, he demonstrates how a human might unwittingly do evil. And to my mind, there is something evil in what he's done, by seeking to legitimise this shit. In the end, there's only one question that's important here: does the world need more violence-for-violence's sake? I say absolutely not. And this is coming not from a wowser or an anti-violence lobbyist, but from a diehard fan of Clockwork Orange and Reservoir Dogs. One reviewer points out that the uproar over American Psycho is ridiculous given the number of malevolent, misogynistic slasher films on constant display in our culture, and to an extent I agree. But what I find reprehensible in American Psycho is the pose - that this is somehow above those slasher films - when Ellis himself has admitted that all the conceptual justifications only occurred to him after he was demonised, as a way to talk himself out of trouble.

Is Brett Easton Ellis a mysoginist? To me he's more like a parrot, repeating the refrain of a sick culture. Well if you need a parrot to remind you what's wrong with clinical descriptions of excessive violence towards women then this is the book for you. For my part, I'll take Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me any day if I feel like a glimpse inside psychosis. And - wrong as this may sound to some of you - I'll enjoy it. Because art is meant to be enjoyed. Yes, it can change you, hurt you, get under your skin, but only if you love it. Personally, I wonder how anyone could love American Psycho. An absolute piece of shit and probably the worst book I have ever bothered finishing.

The gore in America Psycho made me laugh my ass off.

I know that makes me sound like some edgy teenage internet try-hard. Like I'm lining up to get Clive Barker's Lament Configuration and ascend to the realm of the cenobites. But I'm not posturing, I'm not hardcore. I puked as a kid when I watched Return of the Living Dead. Lots of people online call folks "snowflake", but I think I actually might be one, because I cry during sad scenes in books. I get emotional about old pictures of my cats. And while I don't always believe in ghosts, if I see a spooky movie I'll be turning on all the lights in the house and be jumping onto the ceiling every time I hear a floorboard creak.

American Psycho is supposed to be this awesome titan of "extreme horror", this nightmare of splatter that will haunt you forever. And for some people I'm sure that's true. But I actually thought Richard Matheson's Hell House had more disturbing violence.

I think a lot of American Psycho is really well written and at the same time really ridiculous. It's an extremely over the top novel. Both in character and in content. The gore is unflinching, but it didn't affect me, because I didn't see it as genuine. It was like reading a temper tantrum.

How to explain American Psycho? If you watched the movie adaptation and loved it, the book is either a lot more of what you enjoyed, or a lot more of what you didn't.

Or both.

Remember the hilarious scene where Patrick Bateman talks about Huey Lewis and the News? Imagine that for six hours.

American Psycho the book is like an awkward late-night infomercial for a pop 80s Solid Gold compilation album that is inexplicably interrupted every now and again by elaborate pornographic death scenes from a Lucio Fulci movie.

All the while there's a hidden message squeaking 'help me' like that scene in the Fly where the guy gets caught in a spider web.

The main character is a comically hollowed out shell with no personality except his pop culture interests. So a lot of his dialog is just filler. He interacts with other characters who are as obsessively shallow and uninteresting as him and they grind out scenes that are so tedious they feel about as long as Neptune's orbit.

I am convinced that if there is a hell it is a yuppie-centric 1980s Wall street landscape. A concrete prison full of gossip-engorged, preppy, soft-headed, weenies discussing Phil Collins music while doing so much cocaine that their haemorrhaging nostrils gush more gore than a severed limb in a Japanese anime.

By the time American Psycho gets to its extended slasher sequences it was like an oasis in the desert.

"At last" I scream "actual human interaction!"

Sure it's people getting brutalised with fire-axes and folks eating sex organs like they're so much luncheon meats, but at least the main character finally shuts the fuck up about sweater vests.

I know I'm supposed to be so freaked out by the gore in this book but I was actually looking forward to each murder scene because the only time Patrick Bateman comes alive is when he's shoving hungry rodents up people's orifices.

And I'm pretty sure that is the whole point of the novel.

Whether everything you read in the story is actually happening or not the protagonist is a big bundle of repressed emotional turmoil. He's obsessed with fitting in and driven to stand out. Every aspect of his identity and his behaviour and his relationships is about conforming. But deep down inside he basically wants to be a monster and go crazy across the country eating villagers and howling at the moon.

There's an internal struggle happening in the main character, and that struggle is between the character's desire to become something and his desire to be nothing at all.

He's been so utterly consumed in corporate conformity and business culture that it's his whole identity. He wears it like armour but it's so restrictive that it's like a Victorian corset pushing his intestines out of his ass. So any existence he can see outside of that pill-bug shell is met with total antisocial hatred.

He views both outcasts and his own corporate cage with a barely concealed fury. He wants to eradicate them all and torture them and brutalise them with battery acid and chainsaws and then hump their bloody giblets.

He hates the outsiders because they don't belong and he must belong to survive. He's jealous. And he hates being forced to belong to survive. He hates being forced to conform.
All of the main character's anger is reactive towards the fragility of his own identity and the powerless terror he feels when he's forced into this soulless conformity.

IT'S HIP TO BE SQUARE. GET IT?

When all is said and done, the psychopath is an outcast, like many other groups. The biggest difference is that unlike a lot of the downtrodden, the psychopath can hide. So they live in terror of being discovered and exposed to the same brutality and scorn as other people who are different. This makes the psychopath often overcompensate in trying to belong to and maintain (and glorify) the status quo. Or they isolate themselves so nobody can see the real them. Or both. Their fear over being seen as different makes them into these pop culture licksplittles and it also makes them very, very, VERY angry.

When you see Patrick being horrifically offended when he unintentionally gains the affections of a gay co-worker, you can taste the main character's fear at being discovered.

Not that he's necessarily gay (because I don't think he can feel anything for anybody), but that he is a mutant. He doesn't belong. And his realisation that the gay character recognises that outsider nature in him, rends him straight out of his mindset.

American Psycho is a disturbing and difficult book. But the most disturbing element of American Psycho is how sad it feels. There's this weird loneliness. This crippling melancholy.

Speaking of anime, it was Rumiko Takahashi's birthday recently. Ranma 1/2 (her masterpiece) was a great show. Great music in that show. Surprisingly deep when you listen to the lyrics.

Most people love 'Don't Make Me Wild Like You' by Etsuko Nishio but I think Ranma 1/2 songs hit their peak commercially and artistically with the Japanese rock band Picasso and their sonic epic 'Piece of Love'.

*puts on rain jacket, gets gerbil*

8/10

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐ ½
Genre: Modern Classic + Thriller

Patrick Bateman is an attractive and handsome man in his twenties. He works on Wall Street. Despite being attractive and intelligent, he is a big psychopath. This is his story, and you should expect lots of narcissism, dark comedy, and selfishness.

This is my first time reading this book, as well as anything else by this author. I knew this was a modern classic, and it has been on my TBR for a very long time. I have watched the movie adaptation a few times, and it is among my favorites. After reading the book, I think it was the charm and intelligent acting of Christian Bale that made the movie work for me more than the book.

This was a five-star prediction read for me. Unfortunately, it didn’t live up to my expectations. The main character has a very annoying personality. I know, this is what he should be, but I just couldn’t tolerate him. He wasn't as endearing as Christian Bale made him out to be. He was a big narcissist. I really wanted someone to slap him hard! Lol. Furthermore, he was also a pretty shallow individual who just cared about his brand-wearing and outward appearance. He got on my nerves a lot, like really a lot! I think the first-person narration style played a big part in my not liking him. The book does have some funny moments to lighten up some very dark and tense events. Also, you need to check the trigger warnings, because there are many. American Psycho is an entertaining book, but you will not miss anything significant if you skip it. Choosing between the book and the movie, I would recommend the movie over the book.

Alright, this is easily the most violent novel I’ve ever read. The torture and cannibalism scenes were difficult to stomach. It was a journey to see Bateman become perpetually insane and how his interactions with his acquaintances changed throughout the book. My only real complaint that I have about the book is the amount of… filler, for lack of a better word

This was breathtaking, overwhelming, appalling, disgusting, revolting, frightening, hilarious and sad.
All at the same time. I have no words, to some extent.