Books That Blew My Mind # 12: “American Psycho” by Bret Easton Ellis
Books That Blew My Mind is an occasional series here — thinking back on great books that I loved (and still love); books that found me at just the right time.
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
This is not about Bret Easton Ellis. I find him absurd. Baffling. Arrogant and nonchalant all at once. I find him breathtakingly soulless; waffling on about what’s “wrong with the culture” and podcasting to an almost gaslit audience of premium subscribers, living up large on development deals that go pear-shaped and writing spec-scripts for his beer-money.
This is about his third book. American Psycho. I sometimes write about Authors I Admire, where I roll through their catalogue and/or their “hits” and what I love about them as much as the work/s. No. That’s not for here, and not this. This is a place to talk about when a book — a single book, the idea of a book and the ideas within that book — blew my fucking mind. And American Psycho deserves its place on that list.
I was 15. Maybe just 16. My mum had to drive me into town to get it, not because I couldn’t drive, but because I wasn’t allowed to buy it. The book has a Restricted sticker on it, is sealed, and in some cases it is held behind counters. ID is requested.
People were talking about this book American Psycho — it had been out for just less than a couple of years when I heard about. It was the next evolution in “horror”. Stephen King was for pussies. This was about pussies! Big difference. This was filthy, and that was exciting. But that wasn’t even what it was about — it was about the weirdness, the humour, the anger, the energy of the writing. It was satire of the privileged that had come from nearly one of its own. Ellis, white, and from some wealth, was sending up the end of the 1980s; his Gen X flag in that particular spot in the sand
.
I had to have the book — but wasn’t allowed it by law. So I asked my mum. Told her outright what the book was about (as far as I knew) and that it was banned. She offered to drive me in and buy it. Memorably, some shop-assistant told my mum that the book better not be for me, pointing in my direction. I get my sense of wanting to tell certain people to fuck right off from my mum. Entirely. She looked witheringly at the woman behind the counter and asked a question in return, “How is that any of your business?” She picked up the wrapped book from the counter, closed her wallet, and then pointedly handed me the book right then and there, but just as we were turning our conversational backs on them, and starting our walk to the door.
Fucking absolute power move! As memorable as taking that forbidden fruit home to taste its first bite.
I devoured the book across a few days. And could not get enough. I would listen to the songs that came up in the novel’s text — Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody and Phil Collins and Genesis and Huey Lewis. And so on.
It wasn’t that I found Patrick Bateman inspirational in any way — but I sure did find him funny. I like to think I saw through it all, or enough of it, back then. But I probably fell in under some of the misogyny. Not so much turned on by it, or even in support of it, but just somehow caught in its sway. And that, I can realise now, is the power of such indoctrination. You can recognise the satire, laugh with it, go along with it, laugh at it even, but still replicate some of its vibe — if not its actual intention. You can get it massively wrong while understanding what’s right about it. You can see what’s wrong with it and still somehow show some behaviour that suggest you actually thought it was mostly quite alright.
So, yeah, there is that complicated aspect.
This was the first Bret Easton Ellis book I ever read. And I straight away was back for the earlier two novels. And I have similar memories of them, and of thinking they were (mostly) pretty great. But it was diminishing returns from there. To the point that, now, and for at least a decade, he’s been unreadable. I hear his latest book is the real return to form — but I’m happy enough just hearing that. Don’t need to test for myself.
But nothing will make me forget the sheer rush of reading American Psycho; of just devouring it, thinking it grotesque and hilarious and fascinating all at once.
The movie would arrive a few years on, with scaled down violence, but great casting, solid enough direction, a decent score, some of the right music choices, and it would be okay. Maybe that has aged better than the book now, if anything? Maybe?
But one thing is certain. I had to have the book again. So — and I wrote a bit about this -
I bought a sealed copy of the book. A year on and I haven’t opened it. I don’t really intend to. I like the idea of it being there on the shelf, sealed. A monument to the memory.
It’s a reminder of when Bret Easton Ellis was good, or did something good — it’s a reminder of how boss-lady my mother was in that moment, and several before it, and a few after it. It’s a reminder of when I was so heavily under the spell of reading — I mean I still am, I always have been, but it was the start of a very special time within reading; some huge discoveries. The Beats would arrive sometime after this, and all sorts of 80s and 90s gritty realism too. There’d be darker poetry, and heavy plays. There’d be great American humourists. There’d be all sorts of things that I can trace back to this particular novel as some ultimate starting point.
So, yeah. I think Bret Easton Ellis is the pits. These days. A jerk. An embarrassment. A fool. And almost dangerous sometimes. His book of essays, White, was fucking obscene — and just stupid. But I will always love the idea of American Psycho, maybe more than I would love the book if/when I read I ever read it again. But still. I swear (It’s fucking true!) this book totally blew my mind (for a time).
Books That Blew My Mind is an occasional series here at Off The Tracks – thinking back on great books that I loved (and still love); books that found me at just the right time.
For a catch up recap of the first few in the series click here