Book 31 American Psycho

American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis fulfills the “Book Featuring One of the Seven Deadly Sins” for the PopSugar 2020 Reading Challenge. The tale features many sins: Envy, Greed, and Pride. Overkill, right? You have no idea.

Spoilers ahead.

I cannot speak about this novel without revealing many spoilers. So, if you would like to avoid them, here’s my quick take. I’m a huge horror fan. I’ve been reading horror since 1983. Sad but true. Stephen King is my jam. Every new story is a like curling up with a good friend. I’ve read Barker, Koontz, Jackson, Hill, Trombley, Hendrix, Lovecraft, Straub, Stoker, Poe. You get the idea. American Psycho disturbed me on a Clive Barker level. Like way more than I expected from the man who gave us Less Than Zero. Yikes, it was graphic and intense and not for those with a weak stomach.

Phew…on to spoilers.

This novel got under my skin. The images portrayed haunted my nights for a while after I read it. I was a teen in the 80s, and many of the business stuff, power, money, clothes, cultural stuff rang true for the time. But contrasted with the description of the acts performed by Patrick. OMG.

Backing up…American Psycho is the tale of Patrick Bateman, who slowly devolves from a corporate businessman into a psychopathic killer. When not working or eating at 5-star restaurants, he spends his time torturing and killing people. He seems to be completely detached to the heinous acts he performs. His deeds fall into many of the seven sins. He kills because he’s envious, and greedy with materialism that was the 80s. And the pride he has getting away with murder...I’m sure with some serious thought I could come up with Wrath, Gluttony, and Lust. But I do not want to think deeply about this story.

So there you have it. A serial killer loose in New York City, preying on anyone and everyone he wants. The torture scenes and death images were horrific, better than any slasher movie I’ve seen. But details niggled at me. Our killer claimed he ate some of his victims. I had a hard time reconciling his behavior with cannibalism. Not that I didn’t believe this guy would eat people. Oh, he would if he could. But his mental state didn’t deteriorate as I thought it should. Cannibalism attacks the brain with a disease called Kuru, not unlike Mad Cow disease. But he was pretty nutty by the end.

Also, his need to confess struck me as odd. Why tell everyone? Was this the Pride sin flashing its ugly head? Perhaps. But no one believed him. No one bought his crazy stories. No one question the people around him going missing. No one remarked on the bloodstains in his apartment, on his clothes (not even his dry cleaner). No one believed him when he outright said he killed Paul Allen.

Wha?

Spoilers for sure here.

The end reveals it was all in his head. He never touched, killed, or hurt anyone. Never tortured a woman with a rat (that was the WORST image). Never took out his coworker to gain his job. Wha?

Or did he?

The end leaves an ambiguous note about what really happened in the book and what didn’t. It was the 80s and drug use (specifically cocaine) abounded. But I think our protagonist (no way I’m calling him a hero) was a very sick man either way. The author painted the mental illness in broad, bloody strokes. So by the end, whether or not he was guilty, we were disturbed deeply by this guy.

Like I said, I’m a horror fan, but this book was just too much for me. 

I give American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis Four Dry Cleaning Bills. (Even though I didn’t love it, it sure stayed with me.)