Review: American Psycho

American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



Of all the ways to highlight Patrick Bateman's hieghtened materialism and shallow set of values, I think this episode of group business card envy is among my favorites:

“New card.” I try to act casual about it but I’m smiling proudly. “What do you think?”

“Whoa,” McDermott says, lifting it up, fingering the card, genuinely impressed. “Very nice. Take a look.” He hands it to Van Patten.

“Picked them up from the printer’s yesterday,” I mention.

“Cool coloring,” Van Patten says, studying the card closely.

“That’s bone,” I point out. “And the lettering is something called Silian Rail.”

“Silian Rail?” McDermott asks.

“Yeah. Not bad, huh?”

“It is very cool, Bateman,” Van Patten says guardedly, the jealous bastard, “but that’s nothing….” He pulls out his wallet and slaps a card next to an ashtray. “Look at this.”

We all lean over and inspect David’s card and Price quietly says, “That’s really nice.” A brief spasm of jealousy courses through me when I notice the elegance of the color and the classy type. I clench my fist as Van Patten says, smugly, “Eggshell with Romalian type…” He turns to me. “What do you think?”


I don’t read much fiction, so it is hard not to compare this in my mind with Bonfire of the Vanities, both novels that offer commentary on empty ‘80s lives funded by Wall Street careers. It seems Wolfe and Ellis both explored vapid personae that emerged from these money-filled pools. Wolfe found a frailty there, a glass palace that could easily be shattered by chance and happenstance. Ellis explored the self-destruction of and destruction fantasized by an exaggerated amoral stereotype that could prosper unmoored from real work and purpose.

I like how Ellis takes from anti-hero Patrick Bateman’s cruel and perhaps murderous reality to the failure to compartmentalize his insanity and it leaks out into his reality until Bigfoot and a Cheerio are among the interview guests on The Patty Winters Show. However, the Dahmer/Gein victim desecration acts became merely irritating as Ellis amplified the excess and I found it too contradictory for a character so obsesses with personal hygiene and fashion. As a true crime read, it seems more like someone so obsesses with such acts would be himself filthy and unkempt.

One other special joy about this work is the prose sorbets of discogrpahy overviews that buffer the "ultra-violence" with witty and entertaining insights into the psycopath's mind.



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