Why Must Read American Psycho?

The 80s: a time period defined by surface, cut throat capitalism, Reagan economics, Wall Street, cocaine, AIDS, night clubs, awesome pop music, and serial killers. This is the setting of Bret Easton Ellis’s most controversial novel, American Psycho, which when published in 1991, garnered an F review in Entertainment Weekly, put Ellis on the FBI’s watchlist, and infuriated a radical feminist named Tara Baxter. American Psycho is about the infamous Patrick Bateman--Wall Street yuppie--whose extracurricular activities included clubbing; snorting coke; dining at New York City’s finest restaurants; purchasing overpriced sunglasses, suits, brief cases, bottled water, Walkman headphones; and murdering prostitutes, animals, co-workers, and the homeless. With graphic and detailed descriptions that include sadomasochism, decapitations, eviscerations, dismemberment, and torture, it is no wonder American Psycho garnered so much controversy. In today’s culture (that has created a genre of film called torture porn), such a novel would probably not get national attention. But in 1991, before the novel was even published, the controversy was nearly as hostile as the protagonist. Most of American Psycho’s criticism has come from the fact that it depicts scenes that are disgusting, vile, crude, and immoral. What these critics fail to mention is that the novel itself is a looking-glass, reflecting a society that is itself disgusting, vile, crude, and immoral. What the novel does not do, to any extent, is shy away from truth or sugarcoat the ugliness of a society obsessed with surface and possessions; a society overcome by greed. In the late 70s and in the 80s, America experienced a string of serial killers (Bundy, Gacy, and Manson), that both terrified and fascinated Americans. Nothing quite captures America’s attention like murder. And this is exactly why Patrick Bateman, the antihero of the novel, is a serial killer set in a time period gripped with greed and fear. Patrick Bateman is not the only sociopath in the novel. In fact, they populate the streets of New York City, the law firms, the finest restaurants and clubs. They are soulless individuals who do not care about others, only advancing themselves, only possessing, and accumulating more wealth. They are individuals who use others to their own advantage. In American Psycho, they are Wall Street yuppies, the upper class, the Marxist bourgeoisie--who destroy and use the unfortunate (homeless, prostitutes, children) so they can live in excess. One reoccurring theme throughout the novel is that Patrick Bateman and his yuppie friends often mistake their co-workers for other co-workers, since there is no distinct individuality, only conformity to an ideal surface. No one really knows who anyone else is; as Patrick Bateman states, “Inside doesn’t matter." They are so self-absorbed that they do not take time to notice anyone outside themselves or their possessions, unless a source of ridicule or competition. Patrick Bateman, competing for the Fischer Account (which is never clearly explained, except for the fact that it is the best account), literally axes a co-worker named Paul Owen in the face, in order to get ahead. Talk about cut throat capitalism! The graphic, deplorable scenes of violence in Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho serve a purpose: to illustrate the inhumanity of a society that puts its value in objects instead of people. Or rather, treats people as objects. The murders and the sex scenes are not the only thing described in pornographic detail. Patrick Bateman is a character sick with obsession; obsession with all the wrong things. In many scenes, Bateman describes, in pornographic detail, his wardrobe, his apartment, brands of bottled water, his music collection, the food at his favorite restaurants. These are the things that consume not only Patrick, but his cohorts. In fact, one could say that a surface obsessed society creates monsters like Bateman. In a society gripped by fear, whose only solace is found in possessing and dominating, there is nowhere to go but down: into madness, psychosis; anything to try and feel, to escape the void. In a chapter entitled “Tries to Cook and Eat Girl,” Ellis underlines the only real thing that can fill the void: Bateman attempts to turn a dead girl into meat loaf, but then he starts to cry: “The smell of meat and blood clouds up the condo until I don’t notice it anymore. And later my macabre joy sours and I’m weeping for myself, unable to find solace in any of this, crying out, sobbing ‘I just want to be loved’” (Ellis 345). This scene is gross and disturbing, but in some sick, morbid way—you may feel empathy for Patrick. There is only one thing that can fill the hole in Bateman’s consumer-obsessed soul: love. But, living in the society in which he does, love is an illusory concept, just like truth, compassion, and morals. In this society, there is only one truth: nothing matters—except money. In this society, there is no love and there is no escape from one’s emptiness.