Bateman,
a Wall Street yuppie, intelligent, handsome and emotionally derelict, is on a
disturbing journey into psychosis.
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Yuppie Eighties Values Gone Wrong
Bateman
is obsessed with vanity and worldly possessions. His pad is clinical, shiny and
modern, where the simple sentiment of a sunset or a flower has no place. His
religion is his platinum credit card and he fantasizes about smashing the faces
of anyone who dares to outdo him in acquisitions.
We
learn of his music tastes; Whitney Houston, Huey Lewis & the News and
Genesis, intimately assessed. Yet there is no feeling in his appraisals. He
seems unaware of how music can connect with mood, only of hard facts. The hairs
on the back of his neck are untweakable.
His
friends are equally soulless, dining only where to be seen and drinking the
fashionable mineral water. Everyone is good looking, fashionable and aspiring.
But all of it is empty.
Mind of a Psychopath
And
this, it seems, is the point. Contrasting with this sickly perfection is
Bateman’s inner thoughts, ugly and blackly comical. He slaughters a Japanese
cook, bloodying a fortune cookie in the process. He bequeaths Evelyn, his
long-time girlfriend, the cookie, claiming the sticky red substance is sweet
and sour sauce. Equally blind to Bateman’s inner ugliness is Carruthers, a work
colleague, infatuated to the point of clinging onto Bateman’s ankles like an
overgrown toddler in Barney’s a public bar.
Meanwhile,
Bateman is slaying tramps, prostitutes and work colleagues that no one notices
have gone missing. Bateman grows paranoid that someone else is parading around
pretending to be him. Could it be that Bateman’s identity is disintegrating as
his slayings grow ever more frantic? I found myself wishing something would
break the spell, as the endless gristle, eyeballs, privates and throats take a
severing. The reading was at times gruesome.
Bateman’s
girlfriend, Evelyn should have been the ideal bait, being gullible, naive and
ditzy, yet these qualities seemed to be the saving of her.
The
final part of the book became like a club to the head, Bateman’s fantasies
repeating like acid reflux and I was no longer sure of what was real. Did the
murders actually happen, or did they remain the fantasies of Bateman’s deranged
mind?
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