American Psycho (Vintage Contemporaries)

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?

SPOILER FREE. So you've heard it all before... This is the big one; American Psycho. Instead of telling you things you've probably already heard, I will just give you my insight and two cents on why I loved this book. As I write this review in 2026, for the better part of the last 15 years there has been a theme in the clique-esq book world of those who "run the show" and what is viewed as "Acceptable" or "Unacceptable" in regards to being silenced for certain speech. I, for one, do not subscribe to that personally. I believe in all forms of speech...and the reason I'm bringing this up is because Ellis does as well—and I admire that. American Psycho is about a Wall Street narcissist, Patrick Bateman, who admires and strives for the utmost affluence in his everyday life and whose primary focus is on things that most people see as secondary. What I love about this book is that it is in the first person... Bateman is talking to you about it directly from his vantage point, and although it is often viewed as chauvinistic and deplorable over his views of women and animals, I think it's also secretly an allegory for how men process their thoughts of rage, sex, domination, money and ego to the highest degree. It's not about glorifying it, as it is about simultaneously showing its absurdity within the public eye, but also showing people what is brewing under the male cap so to speak in the most over-the-top way; a processing of wild emotions. Despite the fact that Ellis is gay in real life and Bateman is straight, I feel deep down, that just like Fight Club from Chuck Palahniuk, this is a book for men, (Although women can enjoy it). (Mini line spoiler) - - - - In relation to what I said above, I think the fact that this particular quote said by Bateman, "But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis; my punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself. No new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing," is an oxymoron for what it's really doing—an outlet for men. Saying things that men might actually think in the heat of the moment that society would "shun" and "banish" them for when they're provoked, poked, prodded and shown little mercy for the pressures that go unnoticed, for the idea of even thinking it even though they actually do to process what is happening to them. - - - - I say all of this because this book is outrageously unapologetic and it allows the reader to "go there" under the cover of darkness to say "Hey, people really DO think these things, and it's just heighten ten fold for absurdity". However, and this is a big deal, Ellis DOES show what the consequences are indirectly (which I will let you discover). Bret Easton Ellis is a wordsmith and a literary craftsman. His sleek style is easy to read. Just remember, in this book, if you come across a section that might seem to "drag on" a bit, just remember who's talking to you. Enjoy. 5 incredibly big stars.

Patrick Bateman, albeit a sociopath, is a plausible product of contemporary society. Fair enough it’s the eighties so there are no smart phones or tablets but the principle is the same. The use of the first person narrative and the incessant, page-upon-page mindless listing of fashion items, clothing, accessories, gadgets, furniture and even more mindless pursuit for the "hippest", "hottest" restaurant reservation, is an invaluable part of understanding the level of obsessive, neurotic narcissism plaguing the main character and adding brilliant hilarity to his and perhaps our condition. The focus remains on Patrick throughout the book although every character in Bateman’s “circle” is depicted as self-absorbed, distant and incapable of any true interaction or real intimacy. Through the subtle but unmistaken exponential increase in detailed descriptions of Patrick's homicidal explosions as the book progresses, Ellis tests the reader's limits, shifting the attention from this imaginary character to the reader, effectively turning an initial question of "how far will this guy go?" into a question of "how jaded are you?". Ellis points a finger to society, to this culture of apathy and individualism that has allowed for Patrick to be nurtured into an unchecked monster. It seems that to Ellis, as well as Patrick Bateman, there is no such thing as an innocent bystander. Everyone is at fault, everyone is to blame, no one is exempt. Ellis's social commentary is also evidenced in his use of the (fictional) Patty Winter's Show, with which Patrick is obsessed. Just as Ellis slyly warms up to the crazy of Patrick Bateman, we are also forced to look at the rest of the world, increasingly being made aware of the crazy of society by the use of the disturbingly familiar discussion topics on this daily tv-program, ranging from, "Women with multiple personalities" to "Concentration Camp Survivors" to "The Possibility of Nuclear War" to "Teenage Girls who Trade Sex for Crack" to "People Who Weigh Over Seven Hundred Pounds- What Can We Do About Them?" The ultimate successes of this book for me has to be that, although Ellis describes a life, a state of mind, a character that is so horrific, so awfully shallow and devoid of empathy, he nevertheless effortlessly escapes from providing a motive, an explanation or reasoning for its existence -in itself horrifying once acknowledged. It should be noted that the unrestrained description in the torture and murder scenes in the book, particularly the ones involving women, may not be tolerable to everyone. I read that the book received a lot of criticism from feminist groups when it was first published in 1991 although I cannot understand why. Patrick does not discriminate in choosing his victims. The argument that the torture is particularly creative -to say the least- when it comes to him female victims may hold some ground but that is easily countered by the fact that, by their very nature his interactions with women offer more possibilities. My own observation is that it seems in Patrick's mind, women were considered to bare a greater share of blame for failing to be an effective alternative to being homicidal, to entertain him, to arouse him, to keep him from pulling off his "mask of sanity". However, as the book progresses the sanity and lucidity of our narrator becomes more and more questionable to the point that in the end the reader is left wondering how much of what has been conveyed, isn’t some fantasy or figment of a mentally unwell mind. In one chapter, for instance, Patrick starts referring to himself in the third person and in another, one of his "friends" claims to have had dinner twice with a man Patrick had supposedly killed. It could even be said that this book –published in 1991- reads as a prelude to “Fight Club” -published in 1996 – (even though I have yet to read it and I’m referring to the movie). The theme seems the same. The main character is driven crazy by his own condition, his aimless consumerist, shallow existence and is forced to live a double life either real or imaginary. All in all, I found the book engaging, surprisingly funny considering you know ...all the torture, cannibalism, substance abuse, manipulation and murder involved...and I would –given some time to recover- definitely read it again.

This book is beautifully written, but it’s definitely a challenge to read. I had to pause a few times to clear my head, as it’s quite unsettling. The writing style is incredibly nuanced and perfect, blending unreliable narration with psychosis in a truly masterful way. There are moments of confusion that are almost frustrating, which is exactly what makes it so effective. I get why this book is praised and studied; it’s deeply impactful and I won’t be reading it again, but I’m so glad I did. If you decide to read it, take your time and find something light-hearted to read in between. That’s my advice.

I didn't think I would ever read anything that would make me think that an age restriction for a book could be realistically justified. And then I read Bret Easton Ellis's American Psycho. Patrick Bateman is a New York City banking bro in the 1980s. It would seem like he has a pretty great life: his job is prestigious and pays well, he has a pretty fiancee, he works out regularly and is in good shape, he has a nice apartment. But what Patrick also has going on is a gnawing emptiness at his center, and violent urges he's not quite able to control. He lashes out at first against the powerless: poor people, prostitutes. But his need to hurt people escalates farther and farther until he's committing actual atrocities against even people he knows, while somehow still trying to keep it together enough to go to work and live his life as normally as possible. I'm not usually overly puritanical about depictions of sex and violence in books. Sex and violence are (fortunately and unfortunately, respectively) parts of life. And I'd seen the movie! I thought I had a handle on what was in store. But this book doesn't just flounce right over the line of being gratuitous, it goes into actively stomach-churning territory. There are things I read in this book that gave me pictures in my head I will never unsee and honestly gave me heaves. And part of it, I think, is deliberate...besides being just gross, the book is also a razor-sharp satire. A recurring motif are Bateman's much-stressed-about trips to the video store, where he rents violent pornography which desensitizes him both towards normal sex and violence against women. Living in a culture where depictions of outlandish acts of sex and violence are easy to access means that it requires yet more extreme examples to achieve the titillating/disturbing effect...examples, of course, that the text itself provides. It's clever, if also very off-putting. I had a really hard time deciding how I felt about this book. As a cutting send-up of the consumer culture of the 1980s, particularly in the heart of the NYC finance scene, it was extremely effective and often entertaining. The agonies about getting a table at the latest bougie restaurant serving the most unappetizing-seeming "exotic" food combinations were dead on. The way the book played with identity, with Patrick both constantly mistaking people he sees for people he knows and being wrong, and himself being called by the incorrect name, because as seriously as he takes his outfits (most of which are described in detail), the end result is that he looks just like everyone else, was smart and insightful. I would be pulled in and admiring the craft of it...and then there would be a gruesome murder and I would pulled back out again. Even just skimming much of the over-the-top portions of the book (it gets worse and worse as it goes along), it was a reading experience I found really difficult. This book has age restrictions for access in several countries, and I'm actually not mad about it. I might have found one of the few things I actually don't think a teenager should read without an adult having to be a part of the process. I don't know that I would affirmatively recommend that anyone read this book, it's that messed up. Which is a pity, because the parts of it that are satirical are incredibly well-executed (pun sort-of intended) and effective. But the rest of it is just too much. Yes, it's worse than the movie. Much, much worse. If your interest in still piqued and you have an iron stomach, there is merit here. But be prepared.

Story 5/5 Narration 5/5 American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis is a masterpiece! I'm so glad I finally read it. I've never read a story like this before and I'm sure I won't again. Bret Easton Ellis' writing style perfectly illustrates what he wanted to show the reader in this satirical portrait of New York businessmen in the late 80s. In this book, there are many references to expensive brands of clothing, objects, artistic restaurants, etc. Things are not simple things, they are luxurious objects, which should be designated as such. That made me laugh. Some readers may find this tiring, boring or unnecessary, but for me it was essential to demonstrate how shallow, materialistic and empty Patrick's life is. Patrick is a charismatic main character. He is a perfect personification of the psychopath. He has no empathy, he despises everyone who is not at his level in the society in which he lives. For him, killing a child has the same importance as going to the video store to rent a movie. What is scandalous to him is not very important to everyone else. For example, being refused a reservation at the most popular restaurant in New York is enough to cause a nervous breakdown. On several occasions, he confessed his brutal crimes to his peers, but no one would listen to what he had to say about that. Why? Because it was an impossibility to his so called friends. Patrick was one of them, so he couldn't be a psychopathic killer. To them he was just an eccentric. In his group of friends, only appearances and money count. Patrick's secretary even described him as kind. Kind!!! Lol! This made me laugh so much!! I couldn't believe how she could define with that word a man who objectified her and looked down on everyone, including her. I found the writing style and character development to be impeccable. I really enjoyed the fact that Bret Easton Ellis uses a vast vocabulary. That's the only thing I liked about Patrick. He is a despicable human being but he has mastered the art of speaking. I love that Bret Easton Ellis used perfect wording to explicitly describe Patrick's atrocious crimes against innocent people, who were unfortunate enough to cross his path. His cold detachment made the crimes even more violent and disturbing. I found myself laughing at inappropriate times. Because of Patrick's senseless actions. I highly recommend American Psycho. This unique literary masterpiece must be read. It's a classic.

Is this book easy to read? No. It is, in fact, nauseating. Literally. I could actually feel my skin crawling, my stomach churning, and my eyes watering with a dreadful distaste in my mouth while racing through this book. But that's the point. I do not wish to give anything away here: the book will grip you and you will be invested in it immediately, so it is completely unnecessary for me to spoil what happens. Suffice it to say that the book will leave you with horrible images long after you finish it, and that is part of the awful charm that Ellis has crafted. I will, however, talk about Patrick Bateman. He is an incredibly well-dressed, charming, funny, intelligent, and wealthy individual, living at the forefront of 80s materialism. He has "friends" and "girlfriends," an expensive loft, and a penchant for vile acts. But part of the tragedy that is Patrick Bateman (and I think "tragedy" is a key term, as he is a rather pitiful and truly insane man) is that the world around him cares not for his psychological pitfalls; rather, the world cares only for what tie looks best with what pants, and which pants look best with argyle socks, and who is sleeping with who, and which restaurant serves the best caviar. Bateman lives both a thriving social life and a lonely existence, and it seems that he is only able to be gratified (sexually and emotionally) when he is hacking someone to pieces or killing random homeless people. He both craves and rejects human company, and those moments when he shows how truly alone he feels (as in later scenes where he uncontrollably sobs) represent both his singular existence in the world as well as the bustle of Wall Street. Pity is my main emotion toward the characters and situations in the book: sometimes because of the acts committed by Bateman, sometimes toward Bateman himself, but more so because the characters are wholly unaware of how truly unimportant their lives are in the larger scheme of the world. Buy this book, or don't. Patrick Bateman will find his way into your nightmares, and, at least while you are reading this book (and probably long after) daily actions will remind you of that time when Bateman used a nail gun, or when he "sampled" his victims. As gruesome and violent and revolting this book is, it is just as powerful in its critique of society, and I think that it's place in the annals of American literary history is both appropriate and necessary.

I am by no means squeamish. I've read some of the darkest and most disturbing novels ever written (I prefer them, actually), and I tend to gravitate towards the macabre in every aspect of life. It doesn't help my sleep or my opinions on humankind, but this relentless investigation of the ugliest corners of the human spirit has at least made it possible for me to stomach some of the more gruesome photographs and descriptions of catastrophe I've come across... Or so I thought. American Psycho is, without a doubt, the most sickeningly gruesome book I have ever read. It relentlessly describes the most disturbing and disgusting acts I have ever heard of in perfectly analytical and brutal prose, to the point that I truly wanted to stop reading the book because of it - and, to some degree, I still wish I hadn't read it. The problem is, American Psycho is a very good book on several different levels. It's engrossing, well-written, and serves as a fairly apt metaphor for the shallowness of the eighties (or the upper-crust businessmen of any decade, for that matter). The story is fairly easy to sum up: Patrick Bateman, a New York executive with a six-figure salary and a designer lifestyle, is secretly a homicidal maniac in his spare time, and as the story progresses he spirals deeper and deeper into his own madness and bloodlust. His acquaintances (he has no real friends) are all so completely materialistic and absorbed by outdoing each other on every level that they are totally oblivious to the fact that Bateman is psychotic, even when he makes it fairly obvious to them. This aspect of the story is often very amusing and serves as a respite from the horribly revolting and graphic murders that occur with increasing frequency throughout the book. From purely a technical standpoint, Ellis is an excellent writer. While you may get sick of the constant and exhaustive description of every brand name item of clothing every character wears, it is relatively easy to skim over these parts as the book goes on, and they are an important reminder of the two obsessions in Bateman's life: death and status. The dialogue always has a clever snap to it that that emphasizes the moral vacuum each person operates in without overdoing it to the point of being redundant or ludicrous. In fact, the best compliment I could give Mr. Ellis' writing is that it makes you want to continue reading the book even though you truly don't want to know what horrid form of torture and execution is waiting for you next. All of this being said, I really can't come to a conclusion as to whether to recommend the book or not. Anyone who was ever even slightly squeamish in their life, ever, would do best to give this book a wide berth, as would anyone who would rather not read a book that gives them nightmares or makes them sick to their stomach. Still, if you can manage to make it through the lurid murder scenes, you'll find this book to be quite good and one that you will think about for long after you've read it, whether you want to or not.

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!

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

Great book

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

„American Psycho“ ist ein Buch, für das ich nie besonderes Interesse hatte. Sogar die Verfilmung interessierte mich nicht besonders, und das, obwohl ich Bale sehr mag. Die ganze Serienkiller-Yuppie-Nummer kam mir eher öde vor. Dann hat Dennis Scheck gesagt, dass „American Psycho“ sein Allzeitlieblingsbuch sei. Der Mann weiß eigentlich, was er tut. Also ran an die 400 Seiten, hab ich mir gesagt. Vorweg: Ich verstehe vollkommen, warum viele Leute das Buch mehrfach angefangen und nie beendet haben. Die Kaskaden von Klamottenbeschreibungen, von Produktbewertungen, Restaurantkritiken, von Musikbesprechungen sind erst einmal abschreckend, weil ermüdend und scheinbar sinnfrei. Ich habe erneut wegen Scheck durchgehalten. „Da muss noch was kommen“, so mein Gedanke – und oh boy, wie recht ich hatte. Diese ganze Form dient, das merkt man eben erst später, von Zeile 1 an einer unheimlich dichten Charakterzeichnung des Protagonisten im Schattenriss, und der hypnotische Sog der Litaneien einerseits und ihre völlige Belanglosigkeit und die damit einhergehende Erschöpfung des Lesers andererseits, sind essentiell, um Bateman … nicht zu verstehen, Grundgütiger, aber doch wenigstens einzugrenzen, zu umkreisen. Sie sind der Rahmen, in den sich die Gewaltexzesse nachher sowohl in literarischer Form als auch in ihrer Bedeutung für Bateman nahtlos einfügen. Und dieses Panoptikum von Belanglosigkeit und Oberflächlichkeit kippen zu sehen in Identitätsverlust und Panik, Gewalt und Drogen, immer noch mit dem Lack der ursprünglichen Ebene – das allein ist größte Literatur, weil zumindest ich mich selten beim Lesen einer Geschichte so sehr irritiert, verloren und verwirrt gefühlt habe: selten so sehr die Lebensentwürfe und Konzepte der Akteure hinterfragt habe; selten so sehr ins Grübeln über meine eigenen gekommen bin (Fazit sehr eindeutig: Alles richtig gemacht!). Und das macht auch die Gewaltszenen so unfassbar überwältigend: Ihre nahtlose Einordnung in eine Welt, in der das Leider der Opfer nicht mehr Wert sind als die neue Genesis-CD oder ein besonderer Weinöffner aus einem bestimmten Laden – nicht selten sogar entschieden weniger. Und das nicht (nur) aus der psychotischen Disposition des Protagonisten heraus, sondern eben in erschütternder Übereinstimmung mit dem Wertesystem, in dem er sich bewegt wie ein Fisch im Wasser. Das Ganze dann letztlich noch ambivalent enden zu lassen; die Idee des unzuverlässigen Erzählers immer dringlicher (und durch die 350 Seiten vorher: vollkommen überzeugend) werden zu lassen, ist fast schon zu gnädig. Ich habe vor „American Psycho“ die „Otherland“-Reihe gelesen, und habe nach diesen Büchern beschlossen, etwas lesen zu wollen, dass in der Realität verankert ist. In der Mitte von „American Psycho“ habe ich dann als nächstes Buch „Chasm City“ bestellt, einen Space Opera/ Hard Science Fiction Band, der in hunderten Jahren Zukunft und sehr weit weg spielt. Ich wollte einer Welt, in der Patrick Bateman existiert, mit dem nächsten Buch so weit wie möglich entkommen. Nachdem ich das Buch beendet habe, ist dieser Drang sehr gemildert, aber nicht weg. Denn „American Psycho“ ist ein Buch, das nicht mehr aus deinem Leben weggeht, wenn du es erst mal reingelassen hast. Und ob das nun angenehm ist, oder nicht: Es ist ein Zeichen großer Literatur.