Product Description

The controversial novel about a handsome serial killer who moves among the young and trendy in 1980s New York.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #2260 in Books
• Published on: 1991-03-01
• Released on: 1991-03-06
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 416 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9780679735779
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
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From Library Journal
This review is based on the galley issued by Ellis's original publisher, Simon & Schuster, before it cancelled the book. The book is now going through the editing process at Vintage. There may be some changes in the final version. The indignant attacks on Ellis's third novel (see News, p. 17; Editorial, p. 6) will make it difficult for most readers to judge it objectively. Although the book contains horrifying scenes, they must be read in the context of the book as a whole; the horror does not lie in the novel itself, but in the society it reflects. In the first third of the book, Pat Bateman, a 26-year-old who works on Wall Street, describes his designer lifestyle in excruciating detail. This is a world in which the elegance of a business card evokes more emotional response than the murder of a child. Then suddenly, for no apparent reason, Bateman calmly and deliberately blinds and stabs a homeless man. From here, the body count builds, as he kills a male acquaintance and sadistically tortures and murders two prostitutes, an old girlfriend, and a child he passes in the zoo. The recital of the brutalization is made even more horrible by the first-person narrator's delivery: flat, matter-of-fact, as impersonal as a car parts catalog. The author has carefully constructed the work so that the reader has no way to understand this killer's motivations, making it even more frightening. If these acts cannot be explained, there is no hope of protection from such random, senseless crimes. This book is not pleasure reading, but neither is it pornography. It is a serious novel that comments on a society that has become inured to suffering. Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 9/15/90 and 12/90.
- Nora Rawlinson, "Library Journal"
Copyright 1991 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From the Inside Flap
Now a major motion picture from Lion's Gate Films starring Christian Bale (Metroland), Chloe Sevigny (The Last Days of Disco), Jared Leto (My So Called Life), and Reese Witherspoon (Cruel Intentions), and directed by Mary Harron (I Shot Andy Warhol).

In American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis imaginatively explores the incomprehensible depths of madness and captures the insanity of violence in our time or any other.  Patrick Bateman moves among the young and trendy in 1980s Manhattan.  Young, handsome, and well educated, bateman earns his fortune on Wall Street by day while spending his nights in ways we cannot begin to fathom.  Expressing his true self through torture and murder, Bateman prefigures an apocalyptic horror that no society could bear to confront.

About the Author
Bret Easton Ellis is the author of Less Than Zero, The Rules of Attraction, The Informers, and Glamorama. He was born in 1964 and raised in Los Angeles. He is a graduate of Bennington College and lives in New York City.

Customer Reviews

Sadly, An American Classic
Bret Easton Ellis, more than once, captured the essence of America in the 1980's. In his books, most notably "Less Than Zero," Ellis codified the look, sound, and feel of the Ronald Reagan, MTV watching, Yuppie 1980's. Ellis was not nearly as interested in showing the flashy glitter of that time as he was in revealing the dark side of excess in an America spiraling into total chaos. In "American Psycho," Ellis attains the rank of a master satirist, viciously skewering a culture that reduces life to power lunches, Armani suits, personal hygiene, and video stores. Ellis is an American Dickens, holding a mirror up to the face of America and daring us to look deep into its depths. Needless to say, the reflection is not pretty.

Ellis's protagonist in "American Psycho" is one Patrick Bateman. Patrick is at the pinnacle of power: he is young, buff, tan, and filthy rich. He works, when he feels like it, at a powerhouse Wall Street firm. Most of his days are filled with parties, dating, dining out, renting videotapes, and buying the best of everything. Why not? Patrick can afford to do whatever he wants in an America that not only approves of his behavior, but ardently wants to emulate it as well. There is one slight quirk in Bateman's well coiffed persona, one small, minutely unpleasant ritual he feels he must engage in from time to time: Patrick likes to rape, torture, and murder people. His usual victims are prostitutes and homeless people, although he isn't above killing an occasional cop or child. That Patrick is, inside, a raving lunatic of epic proportions doesn't matter as long as he can maintain surface appearances. This he manages to do by keeping up on all the latest fads, doling out fashion tips to those less fortunate, and hanging out with the guys and gals on a regular basis.

The book alternates between power lunches at trendy New York restaurants and stomach churning scenes of murder and mayhem. There is a link between two such disparate activities, and a close reading reveals these links. In essence, Bateman is caught up in an empty, soul crushing existence. The people he knows and the places he populates are devoid of any deep feelings. In order to feel, to experience life, Bateman must kill (or at least fantasize about killing). Murder is his release from the daily banalities of Yuppie life, the only time when he feels as though he is participating in a life activity.

The violence may be extended even further, beyond the confines of Bateman's character, to show the results of a materialist culture on the human spirit. Does the best of everything always result in happy, well adjusted human beings? Are those who have great wealth automatically deserving of our respect because they are wealthy? Are these wealthy denizens guaranteed happiness because they can buy the best bottled water, the best stereo system, the best clothing? Ellis's answer is a resounding, and blood drenched, no. Bateman is not happy with his possessions (at least not beyond any surface pleasure), and actually seems to further deteriorate as he acquires more possessions.

The violence committed by Patrick Bateman is truly sickening on many levels. Ellis provides GRAPHIC descriptions of Bateman's murders, rapes, tortures, and yes, cannibalism. Those who read splatter literature won't see anything they haven't seen in horror books printed by small press publishers, but for those not used to horror films and books the violence here will definitely become unbearable. The violence is not only disgusting; it is cruel as well. It is the type of violence that seeks to humiliate and debase human beings, to bring others down to the dark levels where Bateman resides. However, keep this in mind: how can a book proposing to explore the American soul in the late 20th century avoid using violence as a major plot point? We live in an extremely violent society; to ignore that violence is to be dishonest to any serious attempt at social satire.

"American Psycho" is an important statement on late 20th century American society. Bret Ellis is to be commended for penning a book that plunges into the murky depths of our country's soul to expose our paradoxes and our ugliness. Ellis took a lot of heat for writing this book, probably from those who live lives a lot like Pat Bateman's surface existence. As a final note, be careful about watching the film version of this book. It does not capture Ellis's intentions in any way, shape, or form.

Hilarious
A great, effective book. Ellis tailors his style perfectly to fit the task at hand. While the endless repetitions of Armani, Blass et al. felt overdone initially, I eventually fell into the rhythm and found myself surprised and amused to see Bateman applying the same attention to detail when committing dismemberments and dissections. In a way, such a single-minded hyper-functional style is the finest expression of the ultimate moral emptiness of the book's plot and it's emphasis on appearance over content.

Something which seems to be overlooked in other reviews is how goddamn funny the book is. I had to take care where I would read the thing, since it's a touchy enough matter to be seen reading American Psycho, to say nothing about laughing out loud at it. Ellis is a brilliant writer of dialogue, and the dynamics between the mergers and aquisitions crowd and their incessant bickering about all things GQ make for undeniably comic scenes. And Bateman's incredibly out of place rave about Phil Collins and Genesis is probably the most innovative piece of black comedy I've ever seen.

Yet Ellis employs his humor to heighten the overall sensation of discomfort evoked by the book. There is a certain unease that comes from reading American Psycho generally, but if a reader buys into Ellis's humor, they also must reckon with the realization of what it is they have been laughing at.

A sick and brilliant exercise in form, function, and comedy.

Dressed to impress on a trip to nowhere
Bret Easton Ellis is a master at describing the anomie of end of the 20th century, but nowhere is that anomie more disturbingly brought to life than in "American Psycho". The book raised a firestorm when it was due to be released; feminists condemned it as misogynistic trash, and when it was finally published, it was in a trade paperback version because the publisher which was to publish the hardcover version pulled it to avoid all the controversy. All hell will probably break loose when the movie comes out, if it is in any way true to the book.

Ellis gives us Yuppie Manhattan in full effect, where the only things that count are money and designer labels; real people are faceless nonentities with interchangeable names, everyone seems to have a Peter Pan complex, dreading the inexorable approach of the big 3-0, and the defining characteristic of the time is its all-encompassing materialism. The anti-hero of "American Psycho", Patrick Bateman, is a serial killer with a penchant for torturing and murdering young women in a quest to give his empty existence some meaning. Bateman is perfect on the surface; he's young (26), handsome, expensively dressed, lives in a trendy condo on the trendy Upper West Side, makes six figures on Wall Street, and can reel off designer names at the drop of a hat. He can glance at anyone for a split second and tell who designed each item of his or her visible apparel. Bateman's life is so devoid of meaning that he thinks all this superficial knowledge actually matters. He can't love anyone, including himself; he treats friends, lovers and acquaintances with equal contempt; and he is totally devoid of compassion, tenderness, remorse, warmth, or anything remotely resembling a conscience. If he has a date with a young woman, it may or may not end in his torturing her to death; as he comments early in the book, "This is simply the way the world -- my world -- moves."

The book was indicted mainly on account of its shock value, and some of the murders are so revolting that you'll want to reach for the Alka-Seltzer. But murder and mayhem aside, the spiritually empty, shallow and soulless people portrayed in "American Psycho" pretty much represent the spiritual emptiness, shallowness and soullessness of the 1980s. Ellis overdid the blood and gore, and the relentless recitation of designer names does become wearying after the first fifty pages, but again, this only serves to emphasize the numbing emptiness of Bateman's inner self. "American Psycho" is a telling portrait of an age of material excess when nothing that really matters, mattered.

Judy Lind