Johannes Franzen Alternate Lives: Autofictional Thought Experiments in Lunar Park by Bret Easton Ellis Fictional narratives can be used to experiment with real lives: In 2005, after a seven-year hiatus, controversial American author Bret Easton Ellis published his fifth novel, Lunar Park. The publication of the book was met with some astonishment. In contrast to the cool detachment with which the author had evoked the cruelty of modern greed and consumerism in his other books, this novel seemed psychologically intimate and emotionally frank. Furthermore, the distinctive minimalism of Ellis’s style had been replaced by a reflective, almost garrulous narrator, who identified himself as the author Bret Easton Ellis. Especially this last detail seemed unsettling since thus far, Ellis had been known for his elaborate autobiographical evasions. His many media appear- ances and his well-publicized life as the enfant terrible of the literary world projected a highly artificial persona, more of a fictitious character than a real person. Lunar Park seemed like an aggressive break with this game of public hide and seek. On its first 30 pages, the book offers straightforward autobiography. Ellis tells the story of the early breakthrough with his first novel Less than Zero, which was published in 1985, when he was still in college. What follows is an account of his ascent to literary stardom, in which the author became part of the American celebrity culture. The shocking content of his books – the amoral attitude of his characters to drug abuse and sexual encounters as well as the depiction of extreme violence – gave him some notoriety. Especially his third novel American Psycho, which was told from the perspective of the insane and homicidal investment banker Patrick Bateman, caused a storm of indignation. The narrator in Lunar Park displays a keen understanding of the workings of media induced scandals, almost relishing the negative attention that the publication of American Psycho brought: »I did no press because it was pointless – my voice would have been drowned out by the indignant wail- ing. The book was accused of introducing serial killer chic to the nation. It was reviewed in the New York Times, three months before publication, under the headline ›Don’t buy this Book.‹« (p. 17)1 1 In the following, I will reference Lunar Park only by page number. © wilhelm fink verlag, 2019 | doi:10.30965/9783846764299_017 218 Johannes Franzen While the autobiographical essay at the beginning of Lunar Park mainly entails a slightly satirical account of Ellis’s career, there are some allusions to emotional and physical abuse. Especially the author’s father is mentioned as a dark and threatening force in his life: »Careless, abusive, alcoholic, vain, angry, paranoid« (p. 7) are the epithets the narrator uses to describe him. Ellis’s inter- pretation of his father’s influence is devastating: »My father had blackened my perception of the world, and his sneering, sarcastic attitude toward everything had latched on to me. As much as I wanted to escape his influence, I couldn’t. It had soaked into me, shaped me into the man I was becoming.« (p. 8) Even worse, the author has to accept the fact that »the pain he inflicted on me – verbal and physical – was the reason I became a writer.« And still, it seems upsetting that Ellis’s most notorious creation, the yuppie serial killer Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, should have been based on his father (so the author claims) – an exercise in literary exorcism. The account of Ellis’s career and the relationship with his father is ostensi- bly factual. Besides some humorous embellishment, there are no indications that the main elements of this story might be fabricated; there are no signals of fictionality. However, doubts concerning the veracity of the narrative start to creep in around page 15, when Ellis tells of an affair with the A-list actress Jayne Dennis. These doubts grow stronger when he admits to accidentally having fathered a child with her, his son Robby. He begs Jayne to have an abortion and, as she refuses, disputes his paternity. Although a test proves that he is indeed the father, he finally breaks off all contact with the mother and the child. This is where the partial fictionality of the story becomes obvious: From what the reader knows about the well-publicized life of Bret Easton Ellis, both the actress Jayne Dennis and the author’s son Robby are fictitious; they do not exist. They are interwoven into the mainly factual account of the author’s life. Ellis goes on to recount his autobiography up to the point when his alcohol and drug abuse reaches a climax and he hits rock bottom. There are »the inevi- table 12-step programs, the six different treatment centers, the endless second chances«; then relapses, failed recoveries and »finally the flameout.« (p. 37) This is the moment when Ellis calls Jayne Dennis, who takes him back. They marry shortly afterwards, and, together with his son Robby and Jayne’s daughter Sarah, they move to a house in the suburbs of New York – a setup which aston- ishes the author immensely: »I was thrust into the role of husband and father – of protector – and my doubts were mountainous.« (p. 43) This is also the moment when the transformation of the narrative from factual to fictional is completed. The second part of the book contains an account of the destruction of Ellis’s invented family. The frantic style of the autobiographical essay is replaced by a slowed down, more conventional form .