American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Well, I have now read American Psycho. I now feel completely justified in my previous suspicion that Bret Easton Ellis is not the author for me. Oh, when it isn’t taking itself seriously, the book is very well-written. Even the originally incredibly irritating repetitive detailing of brand names and prices and food became a part of the rhythm of the book in a way I was not expecting. Patrick Bateman is certainly a psychopath, whether his crimes are only in his head or real. With all of these things though, I would still love to give this one star. The reason it gets three is because of the way a consistent crawling horror was maintained. There was no respite, even in the seemingly innocuous sections. This takes talent. I still found it anything but enjoyable, and towards the end became annoyed when Ellis tried to make it somehow meaningful in a greater sense. Oh, and it’s certainly gory in every sense of the word, in case there was someone who missed that. I need a stiff drink now.

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