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Home , American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis

MASARYK UNIVERSITY BRNO FACULTY OF EDUCATION Department of English Language and Literature

Satirical and Transgressive Elements in Bret

Easton Ellis’

Diploma Thesis

Brno 2011

Author: Supervisor:

Bc. Jaroslav Matula Ing. Mgr. Věra Eliášová, Ph.D.

Declaration

Prohlašuji, že jsem závěrečnou diplomovou práci vypracoval samostatně, s využitím pouze citovaných literárních pramenů, dalších informací a zdrojů v souladu s Disciplinárním řádem pro studenty Pedagogické fakulty Masarykovy univerzity a se zákonem č. 121/2000 Sb., o právu autorském, o právech souvisejících s právem autorským a o změně některých zákonů (autorský zákon), ve znění pozdějších předpisů.

I hereby declare that I have written this diploma thesis myself and that all the sources I have used are listed in the bibliography section.

Jihlava, 6 December 2011

Bc. Jaroslav Matula

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Acknowledgements

My sincere thanks are due to my supervisor, Ing. Mgr. Věra Eliášová, Ph.D., for her constructive feedback, challenging ideas and valuable advice.

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Table of Contents

Introduction ...... 5

1 ‟ American Psycho: an overview of a “very annoying novel” ...... 7 1.1 From “moronic junk” to a “postmodern classic” ...... 9 1.2 Pigeonholing American Psycho ...... 11 1.3 American Psycho as a mélange of genres ...... 14 1.4 American Psycho as a ...... 17 1.5 American Psycho as ...... 19 1.6 American Psycho as a postmodern novel: a brief summary ...... 21 2 : a postmodern narrator ...... 23 2.1 Patrick Bateman‟s narration: defining characteristics ...... 23 2.1.1 Moving in a circle ...... 24 2.1.2 Creating ambiguity ...... 25 2.1.3 Reliability issues ...... 28 2.1.4 Satirical edge ...... 33 2.2 Patrick Bateman‟s narration: the impact ...... 35 2.3 Patrick Bateman‟s narration: a summary ...... 39 3 Patrick Bateman: “total GQ” ...... 40 3.1 Like a fashion magazine come to life: identity in American Psycho ...... 40 3.2 Like in a soap opera: pop culture in American Psycho ...... 49 3.3 American Psycho: the death of thinking and the reception of the novel ...... 58 4 Patrick Bateman: a stylish killer ...... 61

Conclusion ...... 70 Works Cited ...... 72

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Introduction

As the title suggests, the prime objective that this diploma thesis tries to attain is to identify various satirical and transgressive elements contained in Bret Easton Ellis‟ American Psycho and subsequently analyse and interpret the role these elements perform in both the novel‟s structure and its storyworld. Since the complexity and thematic richness of American Psycho preclude dealing with the whole range of topics found in the text, the focus will be on several carefully selected motifs between which close connections are to be established so that a single overarching interpretation may then be suggested. The explanation for why I have chosen Ellis‟ novel as the topic of my thesis is fairly straightforward. It is a fascinating book in so many respects; not least because of the ambivalent feelings it may inspire. It sends a relatable message about present-day society, one possible interpretation of which is presented in this thesis, yet I do not share the grim view the author appears to take. It is witty, amusing and full of black humour, yet it has one of the most disgusting depictions of violence I have ever encountered in a work of literature. It is a page-turner, yet it seems at times as though the author tries on purpose to bore the reader out of his or her mind. It clearly has literary merit, yet it was catastrophically misunderstood and dismissed after its publication. All these characteristics of the novel will be discussed, or at least touched upon, in the following four chapters. Chapter 1 is an introductory chapter that provides an overview of the main features of American Psycho. The first part summarises the controversy surrounding the novel‟s publication, while the second focuses on four perspectives from which Ellis‟ work may be looked at. The next three chapters are all structured similarly – each of them takes one specific role of the novel‟s main protagonist, Patrick Bateman, as a starting point from which themes and formal aspects relevant to each of these roles are explored. Throughout these chapters attention is consistently drawn to the satirical and transgressive nature of Ellis‟ text – I will demonstrate that satire and transgressions, in terms of either content or form, constitute the basic building blocks of American Psycho.

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Chapter 2 thus concerns itself with Bateman as a narrator and with the features defining his narration. Topics such as ambiguity and the narrator‟s reliability are discussed in detail, and the consequences of the employment of such a narrator are analysed. Chapter 3 centres around the portrayal of Bateman as a fashionista and pop culture aficionado, which brings into focus the question of pop culture as a source from which Ellis may have derived inspiration for the novel‟s structure as well as for the method of characterisation. The motifs of unstable identity and distorted perception are then identified as key components of the narrative. Chapter 4 concentrates on Bateman as a and deals with the depiction of violence in the novel. It is a further expansion of the conclusions made in the previous two chapters. My reading of American Psycho put forward in this thesis is an attempt to provide an interpretation that takes into consideration certain aspects of the novel that appear to have been neglected in the existing analyses of the text, especially the significant impact of pop culture upon the novel‟s structure and storyworld. Moreover, it is also an attempt to offer an interpretation that establishes causal links between several of the novel‟s themes with a view to identifying the key idea that may be considered to be the common denominator behind Bret Easton Ellis‟ scathing attacks on present-day society.

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1 Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho: An Overview of a “Very Annoying Novel”1

American Psycho, the third of the seven thus far published literary works by American writer Bret Easton Ellis (born 1964), is a novel that had been written in the late 1980s and published in 1991. Having drawn a great deal of fierce criticism even prior to its official release, American Psycho provoked a veritable storm of protest and led to many a heated debate when it finally appeared following a great furore over the publication of the book. Although the opinion on the novel among academics and literary critics has considerably changed ever since and the novel has achieved cult status among lay readers, American Psycho still remains known primarily for the notoriety it has gained because of its highly controversial content.2 Set in in the closing years of the 1980s,3 the story tracks the life of its main protagonist, the archetypal yuppie Patrick Bateman, and in doing so a picture is painted of a superficial, self-absorbed and self-centred narcissist par excellence. Bateman spends all his time (as well as substantial sums of money) securing reservations at the hippest restaurants, keeping his body in shape at the gym and his face and hair always superbly groomed, constantly making sure that he wears clothes by those fashion designers that are considered definitely in at that moment in time, obsessively keeping up to date with the latest developments in technology so as to own the most state-of-the-art stereo or a new top-notch cordless telephone, slavishly following pop music artists such as Whitney Houston or Genesis, and never missing a single episode of his favourite television talk show. In short, the main character is trapped in a world of fashion trends, advertisements for various products and pop culture where everything is for sale and meant to be consumed. There is, however, another aspect of the main character‟s description – a rather troubling one that has sparked all the controversy over the novel: apart from his yuppie,

1 This is how Ellis called his book in response to the widespread criticism that had been levelled at him after the publication (Cohen).What he obviously meant is that the book annoyed people by revealing unpleasant truths about our society. 2 All the controversy has undoubtedly helped to make American Psycho the best known of Ellis‟ books – the author has been asked questions about the novel repeatedly in many interviews over the last two decades (Brien 11); Ellis himself said in an interview: “[P]eople not forgiving me for American Psycho – that‟s going to stay true for a very long time” (Amerika). 3 Specific references to certain songs and pop music albums make it possible to determine the years during which the story takes place as 1988 and 1989. 7 metrosexual self, Patrick Bateman is also a brutal serial killer, whose numerous murders, tortures and mutilations of his victims are presented in graphic detail. As a consequence, what the reader faces is Patrick Bateman‟s first-person narrative in the form of a stream of more or less self-contained short chapters, the content of which switches between several topics: meetings at restaurants, drug-fuelled nights at trendy clubs, fashion and grooming, new gadgets, music, and murder and torture. The repetitive pattern in which these topics appear in the novel time and again reflects the vicious circle of the main character‟s superficial and vacuous life. Confronted with the narrative of American Psycho, it is of paramount importance that the reader decide from which perspective he or she will be looking at the text as a whole – with both its portrayals of glamorous lifestyles and its depictions of horrific and often disgusting violence. Specifically, the reader has to determine how literally the novel is to be taken. Leaning towards one point of view or the other makes a big difference in the interpretation of American Psycho – simply put, if the reader chooses to take the novel literally, then he or she gets a thriller about a young man with homicidal tendencies whose life is spiralling out of control as the story unfolds; if, on the other hand, the reader elects to view the novel as a metaphor or an allegory, then he or she gets a biting satire on consumer society the product of which is Patrick Bateman. Needless to say, it is vital that one or the other perspective be used consistently, because the fact that some parts of American Psycho had been taken completely out of context was the main reason for the uproar the novel caused after its publication (see below). In the following chapters of this thesis American Psycho will be viewed from the latter perspective and arguments will be presented in favour of the novel‟s satirical nature as it appears to be evident that the mode in which both the above-mentioned dimensions of the main protagonist are treated is based on exaggeration and caricature. If the depiction of the lavish lifestyle is to be taken as a social commentary on consumer society, then it is only logical to try to discover similar undertones in the portrayal of excessive violence and extreme cruelty.

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1.1 From “moronic junk” to a “postmodern classic”4

This section will focus briefly on what has been touched upon above – the controversy surrounding American Psycho and the re-evaluation of its literary merit that has taken place over the past two decades. In her article from March 1991, Entertainment Weekly reviewer Maureen O‟Brien provides a contemporary account of the outcry that accompanied the publication of American Psycho: Several excerpts from the novel containing ghastly depictions of murder and torture of Patrick Bateman‟s women victims had been leaked from the Simon & Schuster publishing house; then TIME and Spy magazines ran articles dissecting these violent scenes from the still unpublished book, which resulted in such an uproar that the publishers promptly announced that the publication of the novel had been cancelled. Just two days later Ellis‟ agent sold the manuscript to a new publishing house (Vintage) and the book was subsequently printed and published (O‟Brien). However, the damage had already been done and Ellis found himself in the firing line for his novel. The vast majority of American literary critics launched scathing attacks against both the book and its author5 – one of the harshest was written by columnist Roger Rosenblatt.6 In a review entitled Snuff This Book! Will Bret Easton Ellis Get Away with Murder? – the word „snuff‟ being an obvious reference to snuff porn – the journalist called the novel “moronic”, “junk” and “obvious rot” (Rosenblatt) and generally expounded upon “the worthlessness of the book” (Rosenblatt). Besides literary critics, Ellis came under attack from feminist activists as well. Having leapt to conclusions based on several out-of-context passages of the book, some representatives of the National Organization for Women (NOW) condemned the novel as a “how-to manual on the torture and dismemberment of women” (Eldridge 20). Some

4 The epithets „moronic‟ and „junk‟ appeared in The New York Times review of the book (Rosenblatt), whereas David Eldridge‟s article calls it “a postmodern classic” (19). 5 See Brien for a very useful summary of contemporary reviews – a selection of especially adverse reactions to the novel and its author can be found in the article. 6 It would also appear that this review has become quite difficult for Ellis himself to rise above – asked about it in an interview in 2006, Ellis said referring to Rosenblatt: “He was just another idiot who was putting his two cents in on a book that he obviously completely misread” (Birnbaum). 9 diagnosed Ellis as “a confused, sick young man with a deep hatred of women” (Cohen) and regarded the book as “misogynistic garbage” (Cohen).7 There were, nevertheless, a few people who came to defend American Psycho and its author. Among them was Fay Weldon – a British writer, and ironically enough, a feminist. In an article in from 1991 Weldon dismisses all accusations that the novel is misogynistic as she wittily points out that Patrick Bateman also murders a dog, a child and several beggars. Thus, if the novel is anti-woman, then it is equally “anti-dog, and anti-beggar, and anti-child” (Weldon). More importantly, Fay Weldon makes what I assume is a very accurate and valid point about the true nature of the controversy over American Psycho:

This man Bret Easton Ellis is a very, very good writer. He gets us to a T. And we can‟t stand it. It‟s our problem, not his. American Psycho is a beautifully controlled, careful, important novel which revolves about its own nasty bits. Brilliant. (Weldon)

In other words, Weldon believes, and quite rightly so, that what makes American Psycho so difficult to stomach for some critics and readers is Ellis‟ brutal honesty about present-day society – the novel clearly does not try to falsely pretend that our overly materialistic, pop culture-obsessed, consumer society has any redeeming features. The accurateness of Weldon‟s critical appraisal of the real root of the whole affair may be corroborated by a contemporary statement issued by a Californian bookseller explaining their refusal to distribute the novel: “We don‟t wish to represent that part of our culture” (O‟Brien). This statement may be interpreted as an admission that the content of American Psycho reflects a certain segment of our culture (the pronoun our being the operative word), but due to its unpleasantness it is preferable to bury our heads in the sand. Defenders of the novel at the time of its publication had been few, though (Brien 8), before a turning point in the opinion on the book came almost ten years later with the release of a film adaptation directed by in 2000. Analysing the impact of the film version of American Psycho on the perception of the novel, David Eldridge

7 Quite amusingly, Ellis responded to these ludicrous allegations by saying: “There seems to be a notion that when you are writing about someone killing and torturing people, especially women, you have to do it in a very earnest and politically correct way” (Cohen). 10 comes to the conclusion that “the discourse surrounding the film actually generated a public reappraisal of the novel” (26). Eldridge points out that the extensive publicity generated by the production and subsequent release of the film version provided both Ellis and Harron with the opportunity to shift the focus more towards American Psycho‟s satirical qualities (23). Judging by the professional reviews on the website, the film was mostly understood as a piece of satire;8 it is, however, worthy of note that Bret Easton Ellis commented that even though he admired Harron‟s take on his novel, he found her interpretation “too chilly, too elegant” (Shulman), adding: “[I] thought that it maybe misinterpreted the book . . . I just thought it didn't really capture the sensibility of the novel” (Shulman).9 Whatever the significance of the film adaptation, it is undoubtedly true that American Psycho (i.e. the novel) has been given more attention by literary, and also film studies, scholars in the last decade and more importantly, it has been seen from a markedly more favourable viewpoint (Eldridge 32 – 33). Having said that, it needs to be mentioned that the major focus of most analyses is the depiction and role of violence in the novel,10 whereas other, equally important, aspects of this literary work appear to have been neglected. Dealing with the gradual critical re-evaluation of American Psycho, Donna Lee Brien makes a similar observation, noting that features other than the violence “[are] rarely analysed or even commented upon” (15). It is, therefore, the aim of the following chapters to draw attention to those qualities of American Psycho that have seldom been dealt with in greater detail.

1.2 Pigeonholing American Psycho

It has been mentioned above that any interpretation of American Psycho revolves around the key issue of a literal or non-literal reading of the text. Without a

8 It has currently a 67% approval rating based on 141 professional reviews (“American Psycho”). 9 I share Ellis‟ reservations concerning the film adaptation of American Psycho – firstly, nearly all of the violence in the film happens off-screen (there is, admittedly, some blood and gore, but it is not in the least as intense as the ghastly depictions in the book); secondly, and more importantly, Mary Harron seems to have been extremely determined to highlight the comical undertones of the text to the point of overemphasising them. In short, I consider the film version rather tame when compared with the original novel. 10 Compare the titles of articles listed in Works Cited of this thesis. See also Brien for an exhaustive bibliography of reviews on American Psycho from the 1990s – most of them mention violence in one way or another in their titles. 11 doubt, accepting the novel, and particularly its graphic depictions of shockingly ruthless violence, at face value had lain at the root of the tumultuous response to it, but one more facet of the problem needs to be looked at more closely. The entire story of the novel‟s publication does beg the question: Why did Ellis run up against such fierce opposition when he certainly was not the first artist to have made use of images of excessive violence. As any aficionado of horror movies knows numerous classic slasher films were shot in the 1980s – Friday the 13th (1980), My Bloody Valentine (1981), or the whole A Nightmare on Elm Street series (from 1984 on), to name but a few. Coincidentally, 1991 – the year in which the novel was published – saw the release of The Silence of the Lambs, a serial killer-themed film that was met with critical acclaim.11 It is rather curious, therefore, that such a great number of people seemed only too eager to voice their objections to Ellis‟ work. Some authors place emphasis on the fact that it proves very difficult to put the novel in a specific genre category and regard this complication as the true underlying cause for the misreadings of the book (Eldridge 20 – 22; Phillips 63; Young qtd. in Herzogenrath 115). Jennifer Phillips, for instance, points out that approaching (as some critics did) American Psycho as a thriller about a serial killer will inevitably leave the reader facing a moral conundrum – not only will the main character‟s murders remain unaccounted for, but also unpunished, which prompted some critics to make wild accusations of amorality against Ellis (Phillips 63).12 If Phillips‟ line of reasoning is applied to the aforementioned The Silence of the Lambs, the difference is evident – The Silence of the Lambs, being a genuine thriller, offers a story about an FBI agent, who with the help of an imprisoned cannibal Hannibal Lecter, strives to apprehend a perverse serial killer, and she eventually succeeds. It would then appear that the vital issue which gave rise to the controversy was the novel‟s lack of any moral stance. Such a position, taken by some detractors of American Psycho, seems almost impossible to maintain, though. Ellis himself responded to these claims as follows:

So I‟m really shocked when critics get morally outraged at my fiction because they think I‟m condoning what‟s going on . . . [T]he same is true

11 On the Rotten Tomatoes website The Silence of the Lambs has a 96% approval rating based on 53 professional reviews (“The Silence”). 12 It is, however, true that if the reader chose such a reading he or she could possibly arrive at an interpretation of the novel as a story about the collapse of justice. 12

with American Psycho. Because I never step in anywhere and say, “Hey, this is all wrong,” people get upset. That‟s outrageous to me! Who‟s going to say that serial killing is wrong?! Isn‟t that a given? There‟s no need to say that! (Klein)

David Eldridge identifies many critics‟ ill-considered attempts to confine the novel to a certain genre as a factor greatly contributing to the outbreak of controversy; he, nonetheless, lays particular stress on the fact that Ellis‟ third novel had been expected to be a mainstream literary work fitting into a particular genre category (21). Elizabeth Young shares this opinion noting that depictions of intense violence were not shockingly new, even in the early 1990s; it was rather the fact “that such a provocative book should come from a writer who had already been accepted” (qtd. in Herzogenrath 115). This explanation is supported by Ellis as well: “There are aspects to it [i.e. the novel] that I think a lot of the higher echelon of the literary/critical establishment have just refused to accept as being suitable for that kind of book” (Klein). The unfortunate consequences of viewing American Psycho within the confines of a concrete category are apparent – if the reader, or a literary critic for that matter, regards the novel as a thriller or a detective story, he or she will finally discover that the story does not really work as either of the two genres. Similarly, if one is inclined to measure works of established authors against some lofty standards and view such works as “serious” or “high” literature, one will be at a loss to integrate the violent and pornographic scenes into such a conception. There is, of course, the possibility to follow in the footsteps of Roger Rosenblatt and dismiss the entire book as a worthless junk (see above); that would, however, entail doing a terrible injustice to the novel. In order to avoid falling into the trap of categorising American Psycho too narrowly, it is best to approach it as a typical example of postmodern fiction. In spite of an air of certain vagueness about the term “postmodern”,13 one of the generally accepted characteristics of the postmodern mode of writing is its carefree irreverence for clear-cut genre distinctions (Barry 87; Klages 165). Such fictional works then “violate conventions of genre and decorum” (Hite 704), and it may be argued that such violations are a distinctive feature that defines Ellis‟ novel.

13 See, for example, McHale for a discussion of the meaning, applicability, and usefulness of the label “postmodern” in relation to literary fiction (3 – 6). See also Malpas who points out that the existence of multiple, and sometimes opposing, definitions of the postmodern is in actuality just a reflection of the indeterminate nature of itself (4 – 5). 13

The next subchapter thus attempts to identify genre elements that have been fused to create American Psycho.

1.3 American Psycho as a mélange of genres

If the narrative of American Psycho is taken apart, it is possible to identify several components to which a number of varying genre labels may be attached. Firstly, there is the storyline following the main character‟s murderous rampage – Bateman assaults and mutilates a beggar in the streets, slices a random child‟s throat at the zoo, bludgeons a work colleague of his, and savagely tortures and kills numerous women (some of the murders are graphically depicted, others only briefly mentioned). Even though the main protagonist‟s actions seem to be going unnoticed for the larger part of the novel, eventually a character of a detective – called Donald Kimball – is introduced to investigate the mysterious disappearance of one of Bateman‟s colleague. This could be considered as being in keeping with the conventions of a serial killer thriller. However, Detective Kimball makes the shortest of appearances in the novel – he interrogates Bateman, who really killed the missing man, and then leave the scene never to return.14 Some time later, when Bateman leaves a message on his lawyer‟s answerphone confessing to all the crimes he has so far committed, the lawyer incorrectly understands it as a joke and brushes it off. As a result, Bateman does literally get away with murder as this storyline has no dénouement. These episodes, together with the implications that both the detective and the lawyer are as blinded by the superficial world of smart clothes and meticulous personal grooming as is Bateman, indicate clearly enough that although American Psycho includes elements of a thriller, it is not to be read as such in its entirety. Secondly, there are the notorious graphic scenes depicting torture, mutilation, dismemberment, necrophilia, or cannibalism. Bateman tortures his victims, mostly women, using an electric drill, a nail gun, or a battery with jump leads, then keeps severed body parts around his flat. In an especially infamous episode he inserts a ravenous rat into a woman‟s vagina. Here parallels may probably be drawn between these scenes in American Psycho and the so-called splatterpunk fiction. Splatterpunk, a term coined in the mid-1980s by novelist David J. Schow, is a subgenre of horror fiction

14 Kimball appears in person in only one chapter of the book. Later on he is mentioned a few times by other characters, but his investigation is virtually forgotten by then. 14 that specialises in explicitly gory depictions of any imaginable violence and body horror (Carroll). Analysing splatterpunk in an article in The New York Times in the early 1990s, Ben Tucker concludes that as a specific subgenre per se it is of marginal interest; on the other hand, he points out that to a certain degree it has been influencing some of the more mainstream fiction (Tucker). It, then, appears possible to see specific portions of the novel in relation to the aesthetic of splatterpunk. Thirdly, the novel contains portrayals of sexual intercourse that may be termed „pornographic‟. Although the use of such an attribute in connection with artistic expression has always been plagued by difficulties as to what exactly constitutes pornography (Bigsby 183), it is suggested that what characterises pornographic writing, as opposed to eroticism, is the fact that it treats “sexual acts in abstraction from their emotional and other interpersonal contexts . . . [and] tends to be narrowly functional and often physiologically improbable” (Baldick 264). It needs to be mentioned, though, that while the said passages of the novel answer the description that has just been quoted, their inclusion in American Psycho can also be explained in the context of the book‟s criticism of the ubiquity of pop culture, in which sexualisation of almost anything is common practice. Next, there are three chapters in the novel that are written in the style of a music review in which the main character expounds upon the merit of albums by Genesis, Whitney Houston, and , respectively. These chapters are not structurally linked to what precedes or follows them; they may as well have been inserted in between any two chapters anywhere in the narrative. Furthermore, several chapters are comprised of detailed descriptions of products – such as cosmetics or home entertainment equipment – the style and language of which is reminiscent of advertisements, mail-order catalogues or instruction manuals citing all the technical specifications. The function of these chapters in the novel is to be explained and interpreted in Chapter 3; here, in the context of genre analysis of American Psycho, it is sufficient to note that these passages constitute yet more different types of texts incorporated in the novel. The inclusion of texts described in the previous paragraph into a work of literary fiction may be viewed as another piece of evidence justifying the labelling of American Psycho as „postmodern‟. Brian McHale states that a feature distinguishable in any number of postmodern novels is what he calls “stylistic heteroglossia” (163). The term

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„heteroglossia‟ comes from translations15 of writings of Russian linguistic and literary scholar Mikhail Bakhtin, for whom it had originally meant “the existence of conflicting discourses in any field of linguistic activity” (Baldick 113; italics mine). McHale narrows the term down to discrepancies in style of a postmodern literary work, hence stylistic heteroglossia, and further explains that piecing together stylistically markedly different bits results in a text in which the world of the main narrative is distorted (162 – 171). This may be observed in American Psycho – the main narrative, which follows Patrick Bateman‟s social life and his murderous behaviour, is punctuated by texts that resemble music reviews, lifestyle magazine articles, manuals or advertisements. Lastly, it is worthy of attention that the extensive descriptions of luxury goods and opulent lifestyles accompanied by incessant designer name-dropping, which characterise American Psycho, had been a staple of a particular literary subgenre well before Ellis‟ novel was published. What follows is a dictionary entry for the so-called S & F:

S & F, a discreet abbreviation for a category of popular modern fiction known among cynics in the book trade as „Shopping & Fucking‟. This kind of romance, usually written by and for women, is distinguished by its shamelessly explicit descriptions of expensive clothes, jewellery, perfumes, cars and other accessories for the very rich, naming actual brand names; several sexual encounters are also described in graphic detail. The genre established itself in the 1980s, following the huge commercial success of Judith Krantz‟s Scruples (1978). (Baldick 227)

Whether or not Ellis was directly inspired or influenced by such writing, with this definition in mind, it would appear feasible to view parts of American Psycho as a spoof on such an S & F novel. To sum up, in American Psycho the author blends a variety of elements from not only literary but also non-literary types of texts ranging from thriller to music reviews. Furthermore, the employment of pornographic imagery and of allusions to pulp fiction genres (splatterpunk, and possibly S & F) constitutes yet another distinctive

15 „Heteroglossia‟ was used for translating Bakhtin‟s original Russian term (Baldick 113); according to a dictionary definition it is a derived from Greek word roots meaning „different‟ and „language/tongue‟ (“Heteroglossia”). 16 characteristic of , because “postmodernism rejects the distinction between „high‟ and „popular‟ art . . . and believes in excess, in gaudiness, and in „bad taste‟ mixture of qualities” (Barry 81).

1.4 American Psycho as a satire

Attention has already been given above to the consequences of some readers‟ or critics‟ failure to understand American Psycho as an allegory and to take its main character as a symbolic embodiment of what its author believes to be fatal flaws of present-day consumer society. A partial explanation for abundant misreadings – apart from poor reading skills, of course – may perhaps be found in the fact that the treatment of allegory in postmodern fiction is often far from straightforward. Brian McHale argues that difficulty in determining whether a character, an event or an entire text is to be interpreted literally or allegorically is a problem commonly encountered in postmodern literature, at times even resulting from the writer‟s deliberate effort to distort the possibility of an allegorical reading (140 – 143). It may be conceded that the way of depicting of the sexual and violent scenes in the novel could have been conducive to literal interpretation; nevertheless, there appear to be clear indications that a non-literal reading would be preferable. First and foremost, it is fairly noticeable that the tone of the novel is ironic. The very first paragraphs of the novel largely consist of a rambling monologue delivered by Timothy Price, a colleague of Patrick Bateman‟s, in which Price leafing through a newspaper blathers on about all the shortcomings of modern life:

[S]trangled models, babies thrown from tenement rooftops, kids killed in the subway, a Communist rally, Mafia boss wiped out, Nazis . . . baseball players with AIDS, more Mafia shit, gridlock, the homeless, various maniacs, faggots dropping like flies in the streets, surrogate mothers, the cancellation of a soap opera . . . more Nazis, gridlock, gridlock, baby- sellers, black-market babies, AIDS babies, baby junkies, building collapses on baby, maniac baby, gridlock, bridge collapses – (Ellis 4)

This quote may undoubtedly be viewed as a social commentary as well as a commentary on the mass media‟s tendency towards negativism and sensationalism; at

17 the same time, though, it illustrates helpfully the mode in which Ellis treats and presents the events in his book. Price‟s litany is obviously exaggerated and as such functions as a caricature of typical contents of a newspaper. Moreover, placing a „cancellation of a soap opera‟ on to a list of disasters creates a highly sarcastic effect and points out to a dubious set of values. Depending on the reader‟s penchant for black humour, even the pattern into which the phrases are ordered shows a comic undertone – first „various maniacs‟ are mentioned, then there is a string of expressions with „baby/babies‟, and eventually a combination „maniac baby‟ (which is a funny notion even on its own) is produced. Price‟s monologue continues along similar lines for a few more paragraphs before the final punchline comes when he concludes his litany by saying: “I‟m extremely satisfied with my life, I‟m optimistic about the future” (Ellis 6). In addition, more than a subtle hint of irony is manifest in Ellis‟ portrayals of the financial world of which forms the background for the novel‟s narrative. Interestingly enough, even though most characters in American Psycho are yuppies, which according to a dictionary definition should mean young urban professionals in well-paying professions (“Yuppie”), they are at all times depicted at restaurants, clubs, parties, or as in Patrick Bateman‟s case on a killer rampage, but no one is ever seen working or doing anything work-related. Whenever Bateman is depicted in his office, he inexplicably wears sunglasses and flicks through magazines or watches a portable television; the only task he assigns his secretary is to make restaurant reservations for him. Furthermore, every time Bateman brings a prostitute to his flat and tells her the name of the Wall Street company he works for, she will invariably respond by asking whether it is a shoe shop, which becomes one of the novel‟s running jokes. Ellis thus systematically ridicules the whole yuppie culture and what it allegedly epitomises (e.g. professionalism and hard work), and by extension, the world of high finance which gave rise to it. Last but not least, even the seemingly non-literary portions of the novel discussed above are marked by obvious ironic undertones. The three chapters that read like album reviews from a music magazine are interspersed with sentences such as:

The album‟s big ballad, „World to Me‟, is a dreamy pearl of a song and though it‟s about sticking together in a relationship, it also makes allusions to China and Alaska and Tennessee . . . and the band sounds really good on it. „Better Be True‟ is also a bit of a ballad, but it‟s not a dreamy pearl and

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its lyrics aren‟t really about sticking together in a relationship nor does it make allusions to China or Alaska and the band sounds really good on it. (Ellis 345)

By lampooning the style of music reviews, Ellis emphasises the vacuity of mainstream pop music – the most interesting observation one can make about such songs is that one references Alaska while the other does not. From a more general point of view, the three music review chapters produce a fairly comic effect in that they juxtapose the main character‟s merciless murderous attacks and his capacity to become overly emotional about sentimental pop ballads by artists such as Whitney Houston. What has just been described should suffice to prove the point made earlier about the novel‟s predominant ironic tone. The aforementioned examples attest to Ellis‟ treatment of his subject matter – he employs exaggeration, black humour, irony and caricature in order to highlight those phenomena at which he directs his criticism. Such a method closely corresponds to the basic characteristic of satirical writing – a satirist ridicules the shortcomings of society and thus underlines society‟s deviation from the ideal or desirable state of affairs (Cuddon 780), irony being the author‟s chief device (Lee 211).

1.5 American Psycho as transgressive fiction

Bret Easton Ellis is specifically mentioned as a case in point in Michael Silverblatt‟s 1993 article in the literary section of The LA Times which was concerned with the emergence of the increasingly prominent inclination of some writers towards shocking portrayals of violence, sexual practices and body horror in their works (1 – 3)16. The essay‟s author called this literature “transgressive writing” (Silverblatt 1), and is nowadays generally credited with coining the term (Daly 353; Arbeit 17). Transgressive fiction as a particular genre is characterised primarily by its choice of topics and by the explicitness with which these are treated. Themes that may be regarded as typical are antisocial activities such as drug abuse, crime, or prostitution; aberrant sexual behaviour such as incest or sadomasochism; violence in any form and

16 Other authors who get a mention in the article are e.g. Jeannette Winterson, David Foster Wallace, Dennis Cooper, or Kathy Acker (Silverblatt 2). Currently well-known authors of transgressive fiction are also () and Irvine Welsh (Trainspotting; Filth; Porno). 19 shape; and generally dysfunctional human relationships (Daly 353; Calcutt 7 – 14).17 Possible inspirational sources are seen in the writings of Marquis de Sade and of William Burroughs (The Naked Lunch) (Silverblatt 1). If the attribute „transgressive‟ is applied only in terms of topics as described in the previous paragraph, several aspects of American Psycho may be considered transgressive; and most have already been mentioned: the ghastly graphic scenes depicting torture and murder, sexual abuse, or cannibalism. The usefulness of such a strict delineation of the term may, however, be debatable, the main problem being the question of determining which topics still remain truly transgressive as the society changes. In short, the transgressive is not as transgressive as it used to be (Calcutt 14). Ellis himself reflected on this in an interview: “If American Psycho came out today, I really don't think anyone would complain as hysterically as they did in 1991. I just think the times are different . . . because the culture has changed so much” (Klein).18 On the other hand, if the meaning of „to transgress‟ – that is “to go beyond the bounds of a moral principle or other established standard of behaviour” – is taken into consideration more generally, elements other than the topics can be labelled „transgressive‟ in the novel. For instance, the choice of the main character and narrator, who happens to be a homicidal psychopath, results in a complete absence of any conventional standards of morality. Bateman recounts his morning routine involving, among other things, a workout and a face mask, in the same tone he talks about dismemberment of his victims. Similarly, many characters in the novel use racial slurs repeatedly, unthinkingly and entirely nonchalantly – e.g. “lucky Jew bastard” (Ellis 35; italics in the original), “dago” (Ellis 163), “wop” (Ellis 187), “nigger” (Ellis 203), etc – as a result of which the sense of racial superiority is subtly implied as being a personality trait of many people in the story. And again, no moral judgement is passed partly due to the fact that the perspective from which events are looked at is Bateman‟s, and partly because every one in the novel seems to adhere to the same set of values. This absolute lack of any discernible moral principles in the narrative may be seen as transgressive; it needs to be reiterated, though, that if American Psycho is read as a

17 Calcutt and Shepard call literary works of this kind „cult fiction‟ in their book; it is, however, apparent that they see transgressive elements as the crucial defining feature of „cult fiction‟. 18 Among many others, the horror film series Saw (2004 – 2010) or ‟s Kill Bill 1 and 2 (2003 and 2004) may be cited as evidence of a changed perception of blood and gore in today‟s culture. None of these extremely violent films has ever aroused such controversy as American Psycho did in 1991. 20 satirical allegory, the reader will arrive at inescapable conclusions regarding the author‟s moral stance. A text, and above all a postmodern text, can transgress not only the boundaries of traditional morality in its choice of topics or means of characterisation, but also the more conventional narrative rules (Berthelot 623 – 624). In other words, apart from transgressions in terms of content, there are also transgressive elements in terms of form. As a result, American Psycho‟s mixing of varying, both literary and non-literary, types of texts may be considered to be a case in point. This is particularly true of the inclusion of openly pornographic passages, for intentional defiance of decorum may be ascribed to pornography as one of its basic characteristics (Bigsby 183). If the same reasoning is applied to the violent scenes in American Psycho, it can be concluded that by incorporating such imagery into his novel Ellis transgresses the bounds of what some may regard as appropriate or tasteful (and hence the original reactions to the novel discussed above). A different formal transgression is the employment of an who renders the reader doubtful about the distinction between real events and the narrator‟s imagination (Berthelot 623 – 624) – this features prominently in American Psycho and will be the major focus of Chapter 2. Finally, it should be noted that subversiveness and unsettling of generally accepted concepts define postmodern writing (Bertens 141; Lea 185 – 186); therefore, transgressions in content and form provide yet more evidence about the postmodern nature of the novel.

1.6 American Psycho as a postmodern novel: a brief summary

It has been proposed that American Psycho be approached as an example of postmodern fiction (see page 13); at this point it would be useful to summarise the arguments supporting such a perspective on the novel that have been put forward so far. The novel does not adhere to a genre category; rather, it is an assemblage of several of them. Even then genre conventions are flouted, the best example being the similarity parts of the novel bear to a serial killer thriller. The traditional development into the good versus evil pattern is, however, prevented by the disappearance of the detective character from the narrative, which results in Bateman‟s crimes being undiscovered and unpunished.

21

The novel fuses social satire with inspirations drawn from marginal pulp fiction subgenres (such as splatterpunk), which is an eloquent testimony to the author‟s disregard for the distinctions between „high‟ and „low‟ culture. The novel also contains numerous transgressive elements that break either established moral principles (topics such as cannibalism or , the seeming lack of moral judgement) or the formal rules of the more conventional fiction writing (almost indeterminable reliability of the narration, the incorporation of stylistically differing discourses such as music reviews). The overall ironic tone of the novel may also be seen as indicative of the postmodern mode of writing (Barry 88). It is based on the belief that in present-day society the overwhelming majority of serious topics have already been defiled and it is, therefore, impossible to take them seriously ever again; the only possibility left is to treat them with irony as a means of emphasizing indirectly that they are in fact serious (Hublík 25 – 27). More arguments in favour of the postmodern nature of American Psycho will be presented in the following chapters, especially in relation to the novel‟s treatment of themes such as identity or pop culture.

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2 Patrick Bateman: a postmodern narrator

The central aim of the this chapter will be twofold: firstly, attention will be given to the narrative techniques Bret Easton Ellis employs in American Psycho; secondly, the consequences these techniques have for the reading of the novel will be brought into focus in the latter part of the chapter. The author‟s devices for structuring the novel‟s narrative constitute a particularly distinctive feature of American Psycho and need to be described and analysed as a basis for subsequent interpretation. In doing so, connections will also be established between some theoretical views on postmodern fiction and certain formal aspects of the novel‟s narration, which will in turn provide justification for classifying American Psycho‟s narrator as „postmodern‟.

2.1 Patrick Bateman’s narration: defining characteristics

American Psycho is a first-person narrative19 in which events spanning a little over two years are seen from Patrick Bateman‟s perspective. From a formal point of view, Bateman is a homodiegetic narrator. In a concept first introduced by French literary theorist Gérard Genette, a narrator is homodiegetic if he or she is also a character in the storyworld, as opposed to a heterodiegetic narrator who does not take part in the events he or she presents (Abbott 42). Patrick Bateman is twenty-six years old (at the beginning of the story), has a well-paid job on Wall Street and is the embodiment of a high-flying young businessman. Always superbly dressed, sporting a permatan, and obsessively health- conscious, he also epitomises what the early 21st century would call „a metrosexual‟. It is, however, gradually revealed that behind his well-groomed façade there is a dark secret lurking – Bateman is a ruthless serial killer whose atrocious crimes seem to have gone unnoticed thus far. Moreover, his sanity also appears to be spiralling out of control as the story unfolds. By making use of such a narrator Ellis produces several effects. The character of Bateman serves dramatic purposes as the reader is never completely sure as to what fate any given character may suffer when he or she interacts with Bateman. Next, there is the predictable impact of seeing the world through a serial killer‟s eyes – that is, the fact

19 A notable exception when the narrative shifts abruptly to the third person for the duration of a nearly entire chapter is to be dealt with in detail in Chapter 3. 23 that the story is noticeably lacking in traditional morality. It has been discussed at some length in Chapter 1, though, that this does not mean that the novel as such, or its author for that matter, is similarly lacking – the moral stance is implied and any reader in his or her right mind should be able to detect this. Lastly, and most importantly, the employment of Bateman, who may or may not be insane, as a narrator results in a great deal of ambiguity about what exactly is taking place in the story. What follows is an analysis of the essential ingredients of the novel‟s narration – what the narrator tells the reader and how he goes about it.

2.1.1 Moving in a circle

American Psycho consists of a succession of chapters that give account of Patrick Bateman‟s life in a very distinctive fashion. The first chapter depicts Bateman and other guests having a dinner at his girlfriend Evelyn‟s flat – with Evelyn being distraught over the most appropriate arrangement of sushi on a plate and the dinner conversation comprised largely of talk about food, prestigious colleges, and later the advantages of using a tanning bed over applying a fake tan lotion. The second chapter presents a several pages-long description of Bateman‟s morning routine, complete with excruciatingly detailed specifications of various cosmetic products: “Vidal Sassoon shampoo is especially good at getting rid of the coating dried perspiration, salts, oils, airborne pollutants and dirt that can weigh down hair and flatten it to the scalp which can make you look older” (Ellis 25). This is followed by two chapters depicting Bateman and his male friends at two different restaurants; in both these episodes the crucial topics of conversation are: the rules that govern wearing a particular item of clothing (“Now are rounded collars too dressy or too casual?” (Ellis 31); decisions what restaurant to go to next; women they had, or want to have, sex with (“She‟s a model. Anorexic, alcoholic, uptight bitch.” (Ellis 41); and again tanning (“„I have,‟ Van Patten says, pausing for maximum impact, „a tanning bed at . . . home‟” (Ellis 46 – 47; ellipsis in the original). These four chapters of the novel basically establish a pattern for the rest of the book – most of the following chapters treat almost identical motifs in a very similar way: scenes set in restaurants or clubs where Bateman and various other people converse on topics that keep on repeating are interspersed with passages containing descriptions of consumer goods. The only new theme introduced later into the novel is

24 sex and violence in the form of scenes that explicitly portray Bateman‟s sexual life and that more often than not segue into graphic depictions of torture and murder. Even those chapters, nevertheless, begin to follow the repetitive pattern that has already emerged and become just one of the topics that occur in the novel one after another over and over again. The cyclical nature of the narrative forms an important thematic element in American Psycho and is to be interpreted below (see 2.2); in the context of this section, attention needs to be drawn to the effect this repetitiveness exerts upon Bateman‟s narration as such. The ceaseless alternation of a few topics makes a profound impact on the narrative – there is very little story development over the course of the novel. The only plotline that does make some progress is what appears to be the disintegration of Bateman‟s personality and his descent into complete insanity. However, even this headway is stopped by the last chapter where everything inexplicably returns to normal (that is, what is normal for the main character) and any climax the story could have reached never takes place. In consequence, the reader is confronted with Bateman‟s narration which does not lead to any climactic moment, nor does it provide any plausible explanations. Frustrating though it may be for the reader,20 it is possible to view this as Ellis‟ attempt to demonstrate his opinion on present-day consumer society in a fairly practical way – reading about Bateman‟s life is as exhausting and mind-numbingly tedious as living such a directionless life.

2.1.2 Creating ambiguity

The topics identified above – clothes and cosmetics, restaurant and clubs, sex and murder – are what the novel‟s narrator‟s life revolves around, and as such they logically represent the kernel of his descriptions. There is, nonetheless, one extremely important question regarding Bateman‟s narration that needs to be addressed: How much of it really happens in the storyworld? In other words, can the reader be certain that Bateman‟s description of a night spent at a club and his description of the dismemberment of a woman are both based on his actual actions? The simple answer is no.

20 And Ellis was also heavily criticised for this in contemporary reviews – see Rosenblatt, and also Brien. 25

The episode described in the chapter “Dry Cleaners” may serve as a most illustrative example of how Ellis undermines his narrator‟s credibility and thus leaves the reader with the growing suspicion that not all information Bateman imparts on the subject of his life is to be taken as gospel. In “Dry Cleaners” Bateman takes a bundle of blood-stained sheets and other items of clothing to a Chinese dry cleaner‟s where he demands that the blood stains be removed. However, he cannot make himself understood owing to what appears to be the shop‟s owners‟ patchy knowledge of English. Then a young woman, who lives in the same block of flats as Bateman does and is attracted to him, enters the shop. She notices the eye-catching bloody smears on Bateman‟s laundry, but is perfectly willing to accept the explanation that they are caused by food or drink, and promptly diverts the conversation to the possibility of her going on a date with Bateman. Eventually, Bateman storms out of the shop frustrated by the woman‟s advances as well as by his inability to communicate successfully with the dry cleaner‟s staff. Even this brief synopsis of the chapter should suffice to show that many complex questions arise: How is it possible that everyone involved is so nonchalant about laundry that has been soaked with blood? Is the dry cleaner‟s only interested in making a profit and therefore chooses not to see what it is asked to remove? Moreover, Bateman says that this is the dry cleaner‟s “I usually send my bloody clothes to” (Ellis 78); would the shop not have grown suspicious by now? Why does the woman content herself with Bateman‟s off-the-cuff explanation as to the nature of the stains? Is she so captivated by his good looks that she is prepared to overlook the fact that she may be arranging a date with a murderer? And finally, why would a serial killer frequent a dry cleaner‟s in the first place? Some of these baffling questing may be answered, although not conclusively so, by focusing on several clues given in the text that may point to a different interpretation. In the beginning of the chapter Bateman says that the previous night was spent going on “a late-night-predawn coke binge with Charles Griffin and Hilton Ashbury” (Ellis 78); after leaving the dry cleaner‟s he is on his way to a business meeting and during a taxi ride there “I hallucinate the buildings into mountains, into volcanoes, the streets become jungle, the sky freezes into a backdrop” (Ellis 83). The mentions of drug abuse and hallucinations may indicate that the whole scene at the dry cleaner‟s could be considered a figment of Bateman‟s imagination. This would certainly solve the vexing

26 questions listed above. However, American Psycho does not lend itself to sweeping conclusions. Scenes similar to the one in “Dry Cleaners” are to be found in the novel many times, and most of them do not include any specific signals that they should be understood as hallucinations or products of Bateman‟s drug-addled mind. Consequently, even if the interpretation that some parts of the narrative may be based on the narrator‟s imaginings is accepted, how will the reader decide which parts exactly are imagined and which are really happening in the storyworld? And taken to extremes, if any one event in the novel is viewed as being only a product of the narrator‟s imagination without any clear indication that it is truly so, why not see the whole narrative as something Bateman only imagines or hallucinates? It is obvious that any attempts to determine the exact nature of events in the novel (i.e. reality versus imagination) will inevitably turn out to be a blind alley, for Ellis deliberately creates as much ambiguity as possible. This technique of Ellis‟ has a significant consequence if the novel‟s narrative is looked at from a formal viewpoint. In narratology, the distinction is commonly made between story, plot and narration21 (Barry 215). „Story‟ refers to a particular sequence of events that happened; „narration‟ means the specific way in which these events are being told (in a written or spoken form); „plot‟ is a term that covers all the devices used for structuring the story (Abbott 41 – 43). It is of vital importance to note that what makes these distinctions possible is the presupposition that the story, as a sequence of events, exists on its own and may be then rendered differently depending on what narration and plot devices are employed (Abbott 40). If this concept is applied to American Psycho, the reader is left facing a paradox because it becomes apparent that while narration and plot devices may be identified, it appears problematic to pinpoint what constitutes the story of the narrative. If it is well- nigh impossible, as has been argued above, to draw a boundary between reality and imagination as the basis for Bateman‟s narration, it is then difficult to form a coherent sequence of events that could exist on its own. The impossibility to distinguish reliably between the different layers of the storyworld in American Psycho, namely between Bateman‟s actual actions and events he possibly imagines, may be regarded as a typical feature of postmodern fiction. Brian McHale argues that what dominates postmodern fiction is the ever-present

21 In other version the distinction is between story and discourse, where discourse is an umbrella term for narration and plot (Barry 215). 27 foregrounding of ontological questions (6 – 11). Ontology is the study of existence; McHale transfers the term to literary theory and using it in a more narrow sense he defines an ontology in fiction as “a theoretical description of a universe” (27). Such a universe is, for example, the fictional world of a novel; a different universe is the fictional world of a different novel; yet another universe is the real world, et cetera. If a postmodern writer then elects to use in his or her narrative a character from some other author‟s work or a real historical figure, he or she mixes differing and originally separate ontologies. Similarly, if the author blurs the distinctions between what happens and what does not in the storyworld, implying thus that an event may or may not take place, he or she raises ontological questions within the storyworld of his or her work (McHale 26 – 40, 49 – 58), which is a technique that may be clearly observed in American Psycho, too.

2.1.3 Reliability issues

It has already been brought into focus in Chapter 1 that reaching a conclusion as to how trustworthy a narrator Bateman is makes all the difference in interpreting the novel, specifically its explicit depictions of violence. Having said that, it has also been argued in favour of the satirical nature of American Psycho; in the following, therefore, the possibility is excluded of taking the whole of the novel‟s narrative literally, for the existence of textual clues that prevent such a reading seems evident enough.22 Undoubtedly, Patrick Bateman may be considered what is traditionally called an unreliable narrator; that is a narrator whose credibility the reader begins to question because his or her narration contains obvious discrepancies (Rimmon-Kenan 107). The term itself was introduced by American literary theorist Wayne C. Booth who finds “a narrator reliable when he speaks for or acts in accordance with the norms of the work (which is to say, the implied author‟s norms, unreliable when he does not” (158 – 159).23 Although the accuracy and usefulness of this delineation has been challenged and differing approaches have been proposed (Phillips 61 – 62), it may prove workable

22 Of course, any interpretation of a work of literature is subjective and the reader is free to choose to read American Psycho literally. In that case, however, the artistic merit of the novel would seem rather debatable – a literal reading leaves the reader with a poorly written thriller. 23 „Implied author‟ is a term used for conveying the idea that what a writer projects in his or her work is an image of himself or herself that is not identical with the author as a real person. The reader always perceives only this implied author in a literary work and cannot assume that this image of the author is identical with his or her real-world self (Booth 70 – 76). 28 in relation to American Psycho. If the satirical nature of the novel is taken into account and irony is seen as a cornerstone of satire (see Chapter 1), then Patrick Bateman fits Booth‟s description of an unreliable narrator perfectly, for he represents qualities that are polar opposites of the author‟s norms. Elaborating on the fundamental difference examined by Booth, Ansgar Nünning distinguishes two types of unreliability: „factual‟ unreliability results from the narrator‟s fallibility which arouses the reader‟s suspicion that the narrator‟s presentation of the story may not be entirely truthful; „normative‟ unreliability stems from the narrator‟s inability to show signs of what is conventionally considered sound judgement. In short, „factual‟ unreliability is the result of the narrator‟s misinterpretation, or even deliberate manipulation, of facts or events; „normative‟ unreliability is the result of the narrator‟s defective understanding (Nünning 496). Evidence may be gathered in American Psycho especially in support of „normative‟ unreliability as Bateman himself admits to having hallucinations and finding himself all of a sudden in a completely bewildered state “spending close to an hour standing in a daze near the bottom of the staircase at the Ralph Lauren store on Seventy-second, staring at cashmere sweater vests, confused” (Ellis 170), and eventually making this confession: “My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage” (Ellis 268). This would appear to provide justification for the conclusion that Bateman is gradually sinking into a deepening psychosis, of which he is, strangely enough, completely aware. In her article concerned with unreliable narration in American Psycho Jennifer Phillips follows a very similar line of analysis. She argues that it is essential that the reader be on the lookout for textual clues that indicate Bateman‟s dubious mental health,24 and then uses these clues to support her conclusion that none of Bateman‟s crimes actually happen – the whole serial killer plotline should be seen as a figment of the narrator‟s imagination, whereas the rest of the narrative reflects truthfully the experience of a bored man who leads a monotonous life (Phillips 64 – 66). Such argumentation, however, raises questions as to why restrict Bateman‟s unreliability to his narration of torture and murder. Examples may be found in the novel which indicate that the narrator‟s perception of reality appears to be of highly debatable nature and these instances do not in any way relate to his murderous behaviour. In a

24 That is what Nünning would consider to be signs of „normative‟ unreliability. 29 chapter describing Bateman‟s meeting with his ex-girlfriend Bethany at a swanky restaurant, he suddenly says in the middle of his narration: “I‟m dreaming all this” (Ellis 222). Something similar occurs later when Bateman dines with his secretary and asks himself during their conversation: “Am I dreaming this?” (Ellis 252) This inevitably opens up the possibility that even those restaurant scenes may be happening only in the narrator‟s mind, which calls Phillips‟ conclusion into question. A point made in 2.1.2 needs to be reiterated here – Ellis intentionally blurs the distinctions between real events and the narrator‟s imaginings; thus, any effort to identify precisely the scenes in which Bateman‟s narration is reliable or otherwise will leave the reader with a conundrum. It, too, has been agued that postmodern writers are keen to create storyworlds with such fuzzy boundaries between – to use Brian McHale‟s term – ontological levels. Nevertheless, it is possible to put forward an alternative interpretation of the reliability issues in American Psycho that accords nicely with the ironic tone of the novel as well as with the story‟s function as a satirical commentary on modern-day society. In this interpretation it is assumed that Patrick Bateman is an unreliable narrator in one way or another – simply because he himself openly expresses doubts over the reality of what he is currently experiencing (see above); however, it is not vital that the distinction be made between real events and imagining or dreams in the narrative. Rather, the question around which this interpretation revolves is: What if it all is really happening without anyone taking notice? Ellis chose as one of his three epigraphs to American Psycho two lines from a Talking Heads song:25 “And as things fell apart / Nobody paid much attention”. It is advantageous to regard this as a good pointer towards a recurring theme in the novel – that is people being extremely selective about what is worthy of their attention to the point of developing tunnel vision. Where clothes, personal grooming, or fine dining restaurants are concerned, Bateman and other characters in the novel give assiduous attention to every detail; as for other topics or activities, they seem largely oblivious. This is one of the essential motifs of the novel and will be further discussed in Chapter 3; here it is of utmost importance, though, to look at what the ramifications of not paying attention to people may be.

25 The song is called (Nothing But) Flowers and was released in 1988. 30

Although it does not feature most prominently in American Psycho, the theme of complete collapse of communication may still be revealed in quite a few scenes in the novel where conversation is being depicted. A prime example that illustrates this point is the chapter “Lunch”. Bateman has a lunch at a restaurant with a colleague of his, named Christopher Armstrong, who has just returned from his holiday in the Bahamas. Bateman initiates the conversation by “So how were the Bahamas?” (Ellis 132), which prompts Armstrong to launch into a long-drawn-out drivelling monologue about the numerous virtues of the Bahamas that sounds like a text from a travel agency brochure. However, Armstrong‟s direct speech lasts for one paragraph which is interrupted mid-sentence and replaced by Bateman‟s narration in which he recalls the events of that day‟s morning. This alternation of paragraphs – one containing Armstrong‟s direct speech, the other with Bateman‟s narration – continues throughout the chapter, implying that while Armstrong drones on and on about the Bahamas, Bateman does not listen in fact and thinks about other things. In the end Bateman says: “„My life is a living hell [. . .] and there are many more people I, uh, want to . . . want to, well, I guess murder.‟ I say this emphasizing the last word, staring straight into Armstrong‟s face” (Ellis 136; italics in the original). This surprising confession is, nevertheless, followed without any interruption by more of Armstrong‟s praise for the Bahamas. Neither of the men is willing to listen to what the other has to say, for both of them are too self-centred and preoccupied with their own lives to do so. The novel‟s characters‟ indifference to one another and their incapacity to engage in a meaningful conversation is depicted on several more occasions. The following excerpt exemplifies this well:

[Bateman and his friends are in a limousine on their way from a concert.] “I bet has a small dick,” Owen says, staring out the tinted window. “Irish, you know.” “Do you think they had an automated teller back there?” Luis asks. “Ashley,” Evelyn shouts. “Did you hear that? We‟ve been trim- coordinated!” “How does my hair look?” I ask. “More Cristal?” Courtney asks Luis. (Ellis 142)

31

The passage looks almost as though some lines are missing – a person says something to which no one replies; the next speaker adds a question that is not only unanswered but also completely unrelated to what has been said before, and so on. It yet again emphasises the virtually non-existent interaction between characters who are present in the same place. There are also variation on the theme of the failure of communication in the story – the aforementioned chapter “Dry Cleaners” in which Bateman is faced with the language barrier between him and the shop‟s staff is one example. Another is the episode, treated with great comic effect, in the chapter “Another Night” where Bateman and several of his colleagues are attempting to arrange plans for the evening over the phone. They have a conference call and each of them keeps on popping in and out of the conversation because they all have other callers waiting on other lines, which culminates in utter chaos as no one remembers who suggested what to whom and names, dates, restaurants and events become so mixed up and tangled that the reader loses track of the conversation halfway through. Ellis‟ treatment of this scene brims with irony, especially when it is taken into consideration that telephone services such conference call or call waiting were invented with the aim of making communication easier.26 These examples make it possible to argue that Ellis sees the lack of communication brought on by self-centredness and unwillingness to listen and cooperate as a fatal flaw of present-day society. From this perspective, it is not completely necessary to try to determine which parts of the novel are reliable narration and which are not; it is of much greater importance to realise that Ellis uses Bateman‟s narration as a vehicle for fierce criticism of society. If egoism and extreme materialism have rendered all communication impossible because no one bothers to care for or listen to anyone else, then there remains no one at all to take notice when Bateman openly states: “I‟m a fucking evil psychopath” (Ellis 19).

26 Interestingly, Herzogenrath interprets this scene quite differently – he asserts that after the conversation has descended into complete chaos, “what is left is an almost desperate urge to keep the communicational channels open, working” (119). It is, however, questionable whether the characters‟ frantic behaviour can be ascribed to their desperation at the failing conversation when they do not seem willing to actively and meaningfully participate in it in the first place. Their biggest fear is that they will fail to make a table reservation at a hip restaurant, which is the main source of their anxiety and in consequence, the major reason why the conversation never begins to work – everyone is gripped by their personal apprehension and does not pay attention to others. 32

2.1.4 Satirical edge

When analysing any aspect of American Psycho concerning ambiguity or reliability of its narration, it is crucial that the satirical nature of the novel not be forgotten. Ellis‟ employment of noticeable undertones of irony and black humour may be explained as a means of signalling to the reader that the major focus of attention should not be the narration‟s reliability or otherwise, but rather the meaning hidden behind all the ambiguity. A good illustration is provided in the chapter “Deck Chairs” which is yet another restaurant scene with Bateman, his on-and-off lover Courtney and two friends of hers (Anne and Scott) having a dinner conversation. First, there is some serious debate over the type of food the restaurant serves; specifically, whether it is “California classic cuisine” as opposed to “California cuisine”, or rather perhaps “post-California cuisine” (Ellis 91; all italics in the original). Shortly afterwards, Bateman turns to Anne and this exchange takes place:

[Bateman] “No baby vegetables? Scallops in burritos? Wasabi crackers? [. . .] And by the way, did anyone ever tell you that you look exactly like Garfield but run over and skinned and then someone threw an ugly Ferregamo sweater over you before they rushed you to the vet? Fusilli? Olive oil on Brie?” “Exactly,” Anne says, impressed. (Ellis 91)

Anne‟s reaction to being likened to a cartoon character after it has become roadkill may seem improbable and thus point out to the dubious reliability of the narration. However, the deadpan humour underlying the dialogue indicates that deciding whether such a conversation really happened in the storyworld or not is of lesser importance and instead, it foregrounds the above described motif of dysfunctional communication in the novel. With caustic wit, Ellis comments that ludicrously subtle differences between cuisines spark a debate whereas a personal insult does not even register. A similar approach may be adopted when examining Bateman‟s description of the immediate aftermath of the murder of Paul Owen. Bateman brings Owen over to his flat, kills him with an axe and then has to dispose of the body, which he does by

33 wrapping the corpse up in a sleeping bag and taking it by taxi to an abandoned building while “still wearing the bloody raincoat” (Ellis 209) in which he attacked his victim. However, the bloodstained coat worn freely in public and the preposterous idea of taking a taxi with a corpse in a sleeping bag are not the only suspicious circumstances. The process of getting the dead body from the flat to the street is recounted as follows: “I zip up [the sleeping bag], then drag [it] easily into the elevator, then through the lobby, past the night doorman, down the block, where briefly I run into Arthur Crystal and Kitty Martin” (Ellis 210). Clearly, Bateman‟s narration of this event sounds highly improbable and may therefore cast doubt on his reliability once again – he may as well imagine it all. Or alternatively, the whole episode may serve as further illustration of the theme of broken- down interaction – perhaps neither the night doorman, nor Bateman‟s acquaintances, nor the taxi driver pay any attention to anyone except themselves. Despite these equally plausible interpretations, it is worth emphasising that a great deal of irony may be detected in the description as well. Firstly, Bateman‟s description is punctuated by observations he never fails to make about the brand and material of any article of clothing; thus, even while getting rid of a corpse Bateman informs the reader that the sleeping bag is “a Canalino goose- down” (Ellis 210) one. Moreover, upon bumping into the couple he imparts a piece of gossip about them, and when Arthur Crystal asks him a question about “the general rules of wearing a white dinner jacket” (Ellis 210), Bateman exasperatedly thinks of him as a “rude bastard” (Ellis 210). Obviously, one does not wish to be distracted by inane questions while one tries to get rid of a dead body. Not to mention that the whole account is given so matter-of-factly that it sounds comical. Lastly, and most importantly, for the reasons just listed the entire scene reads like a parody of a staple part of many thrillers or crime stories, namely a scene in which the villain has to remove the body of his or her victim.27 It has been discussed in Chapter 1 that American Psycho combines various genres, but does so – in a fashion that is characteristic of postmodern novels – by playing havoc with genre conventions. This scene analysed above exemplifies this tendency excellently, and it is passages such as this in the novel that indicate strongly enough that, in essence, the novel is a satire that should be understood allegorically.

27 Although wrapping the corpse up in a carpet is probably a more typical way of covering it. 34

2.2 Patrick Bateman’s narration: the impact

Ellis‟ decision to place a narrator such as Patrick Bateman at the centre of the narrative impacts profoundly not only on the way the novel may be interpreted but also on the way the story is approached by the reader. A narrator with something to hide provides an author with the opportunity to build up suspense by gradually disclosing pieces of information that may hint at some dark secret lurking in a character‟s life. The narrative technique of imparting information little by little, or in other words, of creating intentional delays and gaps, is considered to be one of the central mechanisms of storytelling (Abbott 44 – 45; Barry 217). A delay in a narrative refers to the fact that bits of information are revealed to the reader at points throughout the story which the author deems conducive to creating suspense and suitable to arrest the reader‟s attention so that he or she will carry on reading. A gap in a narrative opens every time a piece of information is not available to the reader. Sometimes it results directly from a delay and in consequence, such a gap can be filled when the missing piece of information has been divulged; other times a gap may remain permanent because information needed to fill it is never given (Rimmon-Kenan 133 – 136). In American Psycho both delays and gaps are used to full potential, especially where Bateman‟s murderous activities are concerned. The very first hint is to be found early into the novel on page 19 when Bateman openly states that he is a psychopath. He does so in a whisper, though, and in the context of the scene his proclamation may easily be viewed as a riposte to his girlfriend‟s teasing that he is “the boy next door” (Ellis 19). Such references in similarly ambiguous situations are then repeated many times over until the first graphic depiction of violence perpetrated by the narrator appears in the chapter “Tuesday” on pages 126 and 127. Ellis uses this scene to startling effect here. Not only does it come as a surprise after more than one hundred pages of increasingly repetitive descriptions of meetings at restaurants, but it is also recounted by Bateman in the exact same detached manner that has characterised his narration up to this moment. As a result, despite all its grisly details this account of a cruel torture of a homeless man and his dog is presented as being on the same level as any preceding description of Bateman‟s social life. In other words, equal importance seems to have been attached to torturing a man and choosing a restaurant.

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This is of considerable significance in relation to the structure of American Psycho analysed in 2.1.1 where the conclusion has been made that the narrative is comprised of a limited range of themes that follow a pattern in which they are repeated with only slight variations. In a similar fashion, the gory imagery begins to reappear regularly as part of this pattern in the second part of the novel, which leads to the fact that before long it loses all its shock value and curiously enough, the reader starts to perceive it as yet another tiresome, albeit disturbing, component of Patrick Bateman‟s life. This aspect of American Psycho deserves special attention as it attests to Ellis‟ meticulousness in structuring the narrative and may also be considered a remarkable accomplishment of his. The reader gains insight into Bateman‟s life and mind not only from the information given in the text, but also from the reading experience per se – reading American Psycho leaves one with a fairly strong impression of what it would feel like to lead a life of a Patrick Bateman. The narrator spends his time drifting aimlessly from one trendy restaurant to another without ever deriving any observable satisfaction from it; analogous to this, the reader is faced with a text consisting of chapters that look as though they are running in a continuous loop – several scenes are repeated with only minor differences between them and any story development is barely discernible. When Bateman launches into his killer rampage it appears to animate him in a sense; morbid as it may sound, murdering people seems to enable him to shake off his overwhelming feeling of ennui. This is, nevertheless, a very short-lived development – as his behaviour spirals out of control, torture and murder only become another of his obsessively followed routines. And again, a parallel may be drawn between this and the reading experience – when the horrifically violent imagery is encountered for the first time, it undoubtedly upsets the reader and simultaneously, it brings something fresh into the narrative. However, after few repeated appearances its potential to shock or attract much attention has already begun to whittle away. In short, Ellis makes it possible for the reader not only to read about Patrick Bateman and the society that has created him, but also to experience through the reading process what living in such a society entails. A fundamental feature of the way in which Ellis structures the novel is the cyclical repetition of topics and the resultant lack of story development. This may be regarded as a transgressive element in that it distorts the conventional conception of a story having a beginning and an ending that should bring dénouement. In addition, the

36 author‟s refusal to let his or her story reach closure in the traditional sense is very often to be found in postmodern fiction (Hölbling 34 – 35). Connections may also be established between such an organisation of the narrative and what some authors see as a distinguishing characteristic of postmodern culture, namely the absence of a centre. The general concept of a world without a centre was formulated by French philosopher Jacques Derrida in the 1960s and has since been taken as one of the central principles that underlie the theory of postmodernism (Silverman 111). It is suggested that various factors such as historic events (e.g. the Holocaust), technological innovations or artistic experimentation have all contributed to the fact that the postmodern world has lost a single centre against which ideas or events may be compared and judged. Since this centre in the Western society used to be traditionally represented by the values of a white male, the disappearance of such a centre may be viewed as a positive quality in that it facilitated the emancipation of women, LGBT people or ethnic minorities (Barry 64 – 65; Bertens 135 – 138). Stanley Grenz, however, points out that centrelessness may bring about rather deleterious effects as well, for such a world lacks any unifying viewpoints that can be commonly shared – all that is left a motley collection of elements, some of them even conflicting, without any glue that could keep them together (28). Ellis‟ stance then appears to be fairly close to Grenz‟ as he portrays his narrator floating though life in a more or less desultory manner, which is again reflected in the novel‟s structure that may rightly be termed „centreless‟: it is a string of chapters that follow one after another without any strong links between them and without any definite sense of direction – a feeling that is even intensified by the complete lack of dénouement at the end of the novel. And again, the reader is offered the opportunity to read about a world without a centre in a novel the structure of which appears to be similarly lacking. Apart from the cyclical pattern that is to be observed in the novel‟s structure, a great deal of attention has been given above to two more crucial constituent of Bateman‟s narration – his dubious reliability and the ambiguity that stems largely from this quality of his. The employment of a narrator whose recounting of events is of doubtful reliability is not an invention of postmodern writers. Brian McHale explains that the tradition of an insane narrator can be traced back to at least Edgar Allan Poe and

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Fyodor M. Dostoyevsky,28 and later became a staple of modernist poetics, especially thanks to William Faulkner (16 – 18). Ellis, however, takes the concept to extremes and creates a narrator whose reliability or otherwise cannot be supported by conclusive evidence. It has been already described that attempts to analyse the nature of Bateman‟s narration as an either/or situation are likely to end in a cul-de-sac, because even if the reader concludes that Bateman is in fact an unreliable narrator, there still remains the question of determining which parts of the narrative result from his unreliability. This deliberate blurring of distinctions between real events in the storyworld and the narrator‟s imaginings serves to emphasise a feature that is usually ascribed to postmodern thinking, namely the rejection of the existence of any objective truth. Postmodernism tends to treat any claims to universal truth as purely illusory, since each individual‟s subjective perception precludes the possibility of arriving at any generally applicable system of knowledge (Klages 166 – 169). Ellis himself underlines this difficulty in determining what is true or real and what is not by his description of a scene in the chapter “Killing Child at Zoo”. Apart from Bateman, who seems completely dazed, some of the other visitors to the zoo are “a blind man [who] chews, feeds on a pretzel. Two drunks, faggots, [who] console each other on a bench” (Ellis 285). This is accompanied by Bateman‟s remark that “all the information booths seem closed” (Ellis 285). This may be interpreted as a metaphor for the impossibility to decide what is real not only for Bateman in his life but also for the reader in the novel: both blindness and drunkenness permit perception of reality that is necessarily distorted and furthermore, the information booths being shut down may be seen as a symbol for the inability to obtain any reliable information. This accent on the futility of any efforts to define a clear boundary between reality and imagination, and between reliability and unreliability of information may be considered to be the author‟s indication that Patrick Bateman‟s credibility is not the most pressing issue and that instead the focus on attention should be on the cause of such a state. It has been argued above that the lack of functioning communication between the characters in the novel lies at the root of the trouble with distinguishing what actually takes place in the narrative - assuming that no one listens and pays enough

28 The fact that McHale lists Dostoyevsky as a “founder, so to speak” (18) of the tradition of unreliable narrators creates an interesting link to Ellis‟ novel in which one of the three epigraphs is a quotation from Dostoyevsky‟s Notes from Underground. 38 attention, everything Bateman describes may as well be happening. The cruel irony of such an interpretation seems in complete accord with the satirical tone of Ellis‟ novel. The wider impact that all the ambiguity and questionable reliability in Bateman‟s narration has upon the reading experience is quite predictable – as is the case for practically any unreliable narration, it “makes stronger demands on the reader‟s powers of inference” (Booth 159).

2.3 Patrick Bateman’s narration: a summary

In the preceding sections of this chapter the distinguishing features of the narration of American Psycho have been identified and the influence they exert over the reader‟s approach to the text has been analysed. The most important points that have been made can be summarised as follows. Firstly, the novel‟s narration is marked by much ambiguity that stems to a large degree from dubious reliability of the narrator. As a result, the story rejects any clear- cut distinctions between real events and imaginings and in effect, it transgresses what Brian McHale would call ontological boundaries. The outcome produced by these transgressions may be viewed as one of the basic characteristics of postmodern fiction – the impossibility of formulating a final conclusion and the consequent feeling of incompleteness, or even bewilderment, is considered to be a prominent formal as well as thematic element of postmodern art and literature (Hublík 27; Rimmon-Kenan 128). Secondly, the satirical nature of the novel has been further examined and it has been shown how the ironical tone may be used as a clue towards alternative interpretations of some events Bateman recounts. Next, attention has been paid to the connections between the content and the form of the narrative in American Psycho; specifically, how the cyclical repetition of topics and scenes shapes not only Patrick Bateman‟s world but also the reader‟s perception of the text as such. Lastly, two important themes treated in American Psycho have been identified – the lack of meaningful communication among the characters, and the absence of a centre both in the storyworld and in the structure of the novel; the implications for reading and interpretation have been explicated. What Ellis sees as reasons behind both these phenomena will be brought into focus in the following chapter.

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3 Patrick Bateman: “total GQ”

In spite of the plurality of possible interpretations of certain parts of American Psycho that spring mostly from the hazy dividing lines between reality and imaginings, there is still one element that would be barely disputable, no matter what reading of the novel one is inclined to prefer. It is the author‟s abundantly clear intention to create a highly critical portrayal of present-day society. The fact that Ellis attacks modern society‟s inordinate and ubiquitous materialism is obvious enough, and is thus understood as a given in the following text. The focus of this chapter will be shifted towards several more specific features of Ellis‟ depiction of society, and particular attention will be paid to how these features influence the method of characterisation that is employed in American Psycho. Moreover, connections will be established between Ellis‟ perspective on contemporary society and some theoretical approaches to pop culture. Most importantly, this section will further develop arguments made in the preceding chapter regarding the novel‟s themes of lack of communication and absence of a centre, and will thus tie in with the previous discussion.

3.1 Like a fashion magazine come to life: identity in American Psycho

The short quote used in the title of this whole chapter comes from an overall assessment of Patrick Bateman‟s appearance and lifestyle that is made by one of the minor characters: “You‟re total GQ, Bateman” (Ellis 87; italics in the original). Such an appraisal of the novel‟s narrator and main protagonist sounds particularly apt inasmuch as it encapsulates a good many of his characteristics – it would be no exaggeration to call him a walking fashion magazine. Interestingly, a striking parallel may also be drawn between a men‟s magazine and the novel as such, for in terms of topics American Psycho and an issue of a magazine targeted at lifestyle-conscious men - such as GQ or Esquire – bear a remarkable resemblance. Such a magazine typically encompasses areas of interest ranging from fashion, personal grooming and style advice to gadget reviews and entertainment news. This is peppered with pictures of scantily clad women, and last but not least, interspersed with a deluge of advertisements. The novel‟s thematic structure is

40 almost identical – Bateman imparts to the reader a plethora of information on practically all of these topics and, as has already been discussed in Chapter 1, he often does so using a register that is reminiscent of advertisement texts, music reviews or instruction manuals. Even the relentless advertising one is sure to come across on every other page of any lifestyle magazine has its equivalent in the novel as Bateman engages in incessant name-dropping of designer labels and brand names. This analogy drawn between the novel and a men‟s magazine carries interesting implications. It is possible to view the storyworld of American Psycho as having been moulded by the overwhelming influence of fashion magazines with Bateman as the epitome of values and interests such publications hold dear. It is, however, equally possible to see the structure of the novel as having been to some extent influenced by the experience of reading, or leafing through, a fashion magazine. It has been concluded in 2.2 that there is a relation between the novel‟s storyworld and the organisation of its narrative as regards the absence of a centre; a similar observation may be made here. Some dominant characteristics of Bateman‟s world are transferred to the structure of the novel and consequently, to the reading experience. Like Bateman occupying a world created out of the pages of a fashion magazine, the reader makes his or her way through a novel in which brand-name dropping is rife and texts suggestive of lifestyle or music magazines appear time and again. The constant presence of fashion designer labels in the narrative can be directly attributed to Bateman‟s odd habit, which borders on a mania, of describing any person, himself included, in terms of their clothes. The following is a most representative example:

[Price is] wearing a linen suit by Canali Milano, a cotton shirt by Ike Behar, a silk tie by Bill Blass and cap-toed leather lace-ups from . I‟m wearing a lightweight linen suit with pleated trousers, a cotton shirt, a dotted silk tie, all by Valentino Couture, and perforated cap-toe leather shoes by Allen-Edmonds . . . Van Paten is wearing a double-breasted wool and silk sport coat, button-fly wool and silk trousers with inverted pleats by Mario Valentino, a cotton shirt by Gitman Brothers, a polka-dot silk tie by Bill Blass and leather shoes from Brooks Brothers. McDermott is wearing a woven-linen suit with pleated trousers, a button-down cotton and linen shirt

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by Basile, a silk tie by Joseph Abbodd and ostrich loafers from Susan Bennis Warren Edwards. (Ellis 29)

Such descriptions are a staple of Bateman‟s narration – almost every time he introduces a character by their name, he follows up with a factual account of what said person is presently wearing. It is, however, immediately obvious from the quoted passage that the usefulness of such characterisation is highly debatable – unless the reader possesses extensive knowledge of the intricacies of fashion design and is therefore capable of differentiating „linen pleated trousers by Valentino Couture‟ from „silk trousers with inverted pleats by Mario Valentino‟, he or she is likely to lose the thread and in the end finds him- or herself unable to attribute any specific feature to a particular name. Before the implications of this situation for the reading of the novel are elaborated on, some attention should be given to the formal structure of the above quotation. Since ambiguity has already been discussed as a salient feature of American Psycho, it is a logical assumption that Ellis‟ formulation of the characterisation is his deliberate attempt at creating confusion. Many names used in the description could easily be mistaken for one another owing to their similitude – „Edmonds‟ for „Edwards‟ being the most apparent example, but also „Bill Blass‟, „Basile‟, „Bennis‟ and „Behar‟ all beginning with the same letter. (Besides, „Bill Blass‟ and „Basile‟ share all consonants and two vowels.) Additionally, the affinity is manifest between terms such as „button-down‟ and „button-fly‟, or „lightweight linen‟, „woven-linen‟ and „cotton and linen‟, which again increases the probability that they might be confused. In short, the reader would undoubtedly be hard-pressed to distinguish McDermott from Van Paten or from the narrator on the basis of the description Ellis provides. The structure of the above excerpt invites comparison with the quotation analysed in 1.4 (see page 17) or with the following passage taken from the chapter “Shopping” which records Bateman‟s perception in a stream-of-consciousness-like manner:

. . . vases and felt fedoras with feather headbands and alligator toiletry cases with gilt-silver bottles and brushes and shoehorns that cost two hundred dollars and candlesticks and pillow covers and gloves and slippers and powder puffs and handknitted cotton snowflake sweaters and leather skates

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and Porsche-design ski goggles and antique apothecary bottles and diamond earrings and silk ties and boots and perfume bottles and diamond earrings and boots and [. . .] (Ellis 172)29

This example as well as the one given in 1.4 is comprised of a sequence of expressions with no links between them whatsoever (apart from the fact that they all come from one source) – here it is an inventory of items available for sale at a department store, in 1.4 it is a laundry list of topics extracted from a newspaper. Admittedly, the above quoted passage containing the minutiae concerning the characters‟ attire may appear at first blush to be more coherent because it is organised into complete sentences. It is, however, a difference that proves rather superficial on closer examination. In actual fact the underlying structure is essentially identical in all three examples: noun phrases are just placed next to one another, many of them are similar to the point of being interchangeable, some are even repeated, and most importantly, all of them have the same striking effect upon the reader. The list-like arrangement of the phrases makes it difficult for the reader to keep track of all the items, which is then even exacerbated by the repetitions and possible interchangeability. In other words, it appears that the structure of these parts of the text prevents the reader from focusing on the meaning and instead the structure itself is highlighted. In Postmodernist Fiction Brian McHale enumerates several techniques by which postmodern writers often like to emphasise the relationship, or the absence thereof, between words and their meaning – one of these devices is “a catalogue structure, . . . a word-list, a mere exhibition of words” (153). In general, the employment of elements such as a catalogue structure in a text results in the separation of words from their meaning. Under normal circumstances words and their meaning are inextricably linked; therefore, if this connection is suppressed or even completely removed, tension is produced between words and their meaning, which in turn foregrounds the words per se. Consequently, the reader‟s attention is all of a sudden split between both as he or she faces the question whether the words on the page really mean what they normally should (McHale 148 – 161). McHale‟s theoretical explication complements nicely what has been discussed above – all the three quotations from American Psycho may be considered to be

29 The paragraph continues in such a fashion for five more lines. 43 catalogue structures created with a view to stressing the relationship between words and their meaning and specifically, in Ellis‟ case, with a view to emphasising the structure into which the words are organised at the expense of the meaning. Attention now needs to be given to the role these catalogue structures play in the narrative. The interpretation of the passage cited in 1.4 has already been given; the excerpt from the chapter “Shopping” (see pages 42 – 43) may be viewed, in the context of the chapter, as part of Ellis‟ commentary on the consumer culture of present-day society. Bateman goes shopping for Christmas presents and his narration is regularly interrupted by paragraphs consisting of catalogue structures that list various goods for sale at a department store. The arrangement of the words into an endless stream of items has a dizzying effect on the reader (as it does on Bateman) and when the same items begin to reappear the listing appears to become even more frantic; thus, the structure comes to the fore while the meaning of the words eludes the reader. Clearly, the author here points out to the surplus of goods and the ever-present pressure on people to buy and consume simply for the sake of buying and consuming, which finally poses a paradox – living in an affluent society and having freedom of choice do not translate into satisfaction and happiness. On the contrary, mindless consumption devoid of any enjoyment aggravates anxiety and discontent – a point the novel‟s narrator proves when he has a panic attack at a video shop because “there are too many fucking movies to choose from” (Ellis 108). The most remarkable aspect of the employment of catalogue structures in American Psycho is the fact that are used as part of characterisation as follows from the analysis of the quotation on page 41. It has been argued above that a description made up merely of fine details pertaining to the clothes of a particular character does not provide the reader with enough reliable information for correct identification of said character later into the story. However, Bateman‟s fastidious accounts of what people have on in a specific scene are the prevalent method of describing people in his narration. Bateman gives information on material, style (such as „double-breasted‟) and the designer of a piece of clothing a person is wearing but not once does the narrator share any specific information about a person‟s facial features, the colour of their hair or eyes, or about their physique. In other words, the opportunity is never offered to ascertain what a particular character looks like physically; the only clue as to a person‟s identity is the list of items they are currently wearing from which logically follows (since people

44 change clothes) that it is wholly impossible to ascribe any distinguishing characteristic to a single person in the narrative. It is, of course, common practice that characters in a story are identified by their names and it is evident from the passage under discussion that characters in American Psycho do have them. Nevertheless, names are not much help here, for they appear to be circulating from one person to another without any stability – people are perpetually mistaken for each other and no one seems able to recognise another person with any certainty. A conversation progressing along very similar lines takes place several times in the novel:

“What in the fuck is Morrison wearing?” Preston asks himself. [. . .] “That‟s not Morrison,” Price says. “Who is it then?” Preston asks, taking his glasses off again. “That‟s Paul Owen,” Price says. “That‟s not Paul Owen,” I say. “Paul Owen‟s on the other side of the bar. Over there.” (Ellis 35; italics in the original)

Lingering doubts over the true identity of virtually any person that is introduced into the narrative persist throughout the novel and what is more, the characters invariably act totally nonchalantly whenever they mistake a person, or are themselves mistaken, for someone else. And this applies to the narrator, too. Patrick Bateman is addressed variously as “” (Ellis 46), “Halberstam” (Ellis 107), “Simpson” (Ellis 136) and “McCloy” (Ellis 175). Strangely enough, in none of these instances does Bateman correct the speaker. When he bumps into his lawyer on whose answerphone he left a message in which he confessed to his crimes and asks him about it, the lawyer responds: “Jesus, Davis. Yes, that was hilarious. That was you, was it?” (Ellis 372; italics in the original) The lawyer is obviously convinced that Bateman is a Davis who jokingly pretended to be Bateman when he left the message on his answerphone. Confusion as to people‟s identity reigns throughout American Psycho and Ellis often displays a playful sense of the absurd while treating these episodes. Several times Bateman deliberately pretends that he is Marcus Halberstam and on one of these occasions he says to himself: “Oh Halberstam, you are an asshole” (Ellis 206). Attempts to determine who exactly is being called „an asshole‟ lead to a comically bizarre

45 situation. Is the narrator addressing the real Halberstam in his mind? Or alternatively, is the narrator addressing himself in the role of Halberstam? What if the narrator is insane and really believes that he is Halberstam at this moment? And what if the narrator actually is Halberstam because he has been called by that name before? Perhaps people referring to him as „Bateman‟ have just mistaken him? In a text whose narrator cannot be completely trusted and in which identity seems rather fickle, none of these possibilities can be excluded. It may be argued that Ellis‟ method of characterisation constitutes yet another transgressive element in American Psycho, for it clearly flouts fundamental rules to which more conventional fiction adheres. It is most illuminating to compare the novel‟s characterisation with what Uri Margolin says about the way the reader forms a mental picture of a character during the course of reading:

The construction of a mental model [of a character] is initiated by the identification of a referring expression in the text as designating a discourse entity and a recognition that occurrences of other tokens of the same expression in the discourse pick out the same entity. The reader then establishes a distinct entity in his or her mental map to which features are ascribed on the basis of textual data. (Margolin 54)

It should be sufficiently clear from the discussion above that Ellis‟ characterisation actively prevents the reader from following such a procedure – in American Psycho the same character may be referred to by different names, and vice versa the same name may refer to several persons; the trouble with attributing specific features to a particular character has been dealt with at some length earlier. The difficulty in establishing a character‟s identity destabilises both the storyworld and the reading experience. It has been discussed in the previous chapter that it is a prominent feature of the novel that a characteristic of the storyworld is reflected in the structure of the narrative, which in turn influences the reader‟s perception of the text as a whole. The author‟s characterisation exemplifies this point as well – the narrator and other characters in the storyworld view one another only in terms of clothes and as a result, they barely recognise each other. Since the reader has to content him- or herself with the descriptions of clothes as the basis for characterisation, he or she faces the exact same problem as Bateman and others in the storyworld.

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It is undoubtedly justified to view the author‟s means of characterisation as a vehicle for his criticism of postmodern views on identity. Simon Malpas‟ description of the nature of identity in present-day society seems especially pertinent here: “The world is, quite literally, at our fingerprints as we choose and purchase lifestyles from wherever we please, eclectically piecing together patchworks of images and signs to produce our identities” (1). Ellis‟ novel, however, clearly challenges the notion that identity can be created out of images, signs and purchased lifestyles – Bateman and other characters are obsessed with brand names and designer labels (that is, signs) and they lead lavish lifestyles, but still people are constantly mistaken for one another and ascribing a stable identity to anyone turns out to be a daunting task. Surprisingly, Bateman experiencing a kind of epiphany towards the end of the novel manages to pinpoint the reason for this: “Surface, surface, surface was all that anyone found meaning in” (Ellis 360). In short, if images and signs are all there is, they are not enough to produce a lasting identity. The outcome then is not only widespread misunderstandings over who a person really is but also a sense of alienation and uncertainty, which is encapsulated poignantly in Bateman‟s remark that his life is “an isolation ward . . . I am at its center, out of season, and no one ever asks me for any identification” (Ellis 330). Holding a rather pessimistic view on the subject of identity in contemporary society, sociologist Zygmunt Bauman claims that people in present- day society are beset by constant worries over their identities because they are well aware of the fact that postmodern consumer society makes it difficult to construct and preserve a unique and permanent identity (27). It would appear that Ellis‟ characterisation in American Psycho stems from a fairly similar opinion on the damaging influence of consumer society upon one‟s identity. It is now important to establish connections between the foregoing discussion and the points that have been made in Chapter 2 of this thesis. Ellis‟ technique of characterisation and its impact on both the storyworld and the reader‟s approach to the text may be viewed as further development of the prominent motifs indentified in the previous chapter, namely repetitiveness, centrelessness and collapse of communication. Firstly, as has been pointed up earlier, detailed list-like descriptions of clothes are ubiquitous in Bateman‟s narration since they represent a reflection of his perception of other people – whenever the narrator introduces a character into the story he dedicates some time to detailed examination of what said person is wearing. In consequence, such descriptions are repeated ad nauseam and contribute greatly to the

47 reader‟s perception of elements of the narrative as turning in a seemingly endless loop, which again serves to foreground the repetitiveness that defines the novel‟s storyworld as well as its structure. The overall effect is very similar to that of the novel‟s chapters in which more and more scenes set in swanky restaurants are depicted – the reader feels as though he or she is reading only a slight variation on something that he or she has already encountered earlier, and eventually and inevitably these episodes/characters begin to merge in the reader‟s mind. Secondly, the absence of a centre may be revealed as a crucial component of the characterisation in the novel. If the only attributes that designate a character are phrases that inform the reader that the character is currently wearing “a six-button double- breasted wool gabardine suit by Courrèges, a stripped cotton shirt with a tab collar and a foulard-patterned silk-crepe tie, both by Hugo Boss” (Ellis 173), then it is apparent that they cannot create a permanent basis (i.e. a centre) for characterisation of a particular person, simply because characters change clothes from scene to scene and any features other than clothes are not available. In a more traditional narrative, a name can be a centre around which characterisation revolves; in American Psycho cases of mistaken identity abound and for this reason, it is impossible to consider a name to be a reliable unchanging centre. Lastly, the question of characterisation is directly linked to the novel‟s theme of dysfunctional communication. By letting his narrator describe people through lists of articles of clothing, Ellis underlines the preoccupation with material possessions and more importantly, the fatal inability to penetrate through the surface and see any deeper meaning hidden behind it. Describing this prevailing tendency in contemporary society, Dominic Strinati uses the term “designer ideology” (225) and explains that the root cause of this attitude is that fact that in present-day society “what things look like dominates at the expense of content, substance and meaning” (225). American Psycho, however, paints a picture of a society in which this „designer ideology‟ has been taken to extremes – the dominance of outward appearance has spread from things to people. Because of their addiction to the surface neither Bateman nor the minor characters are able to see that there are real human beings underneath all the designer labels, which leads to the difficulty in recognising others, and also to the disturbingly calm acceptance of the fact that no one ever knows for certain who a person is. As Monika Fludernik points out, “[i]dentities cannot be upheld without the cooperation of others” (261). But in American Psycho no one really cares. Such indifference to others then logically

48 precludes any meaningful interaction and as such may be identified as the true cause of the collapse of communication Ellis depicts in his novel.

3.2 Like in a soap opera: pop culture in American Psycho

It has been concluded in the previous section that the complete breakdown of communication between the novel‟s characters stems in large measure from the inability to pay attention to anything but the surface. Such tunnel vision combined with extreme self-centredness entail not only mistaking people for one another but also ignoring what they have to say. As has been mentioned in Chapter 2 – should a person in American Psycho declare that they are a murderous psychopath, no one will take notice. It now needs to be looked at more closely what explanation Ellis‟ work offers the reader as to the cause of such a state of affairs; or, to put it differently, what the author considers to be the massively powerful influence that may turn a person into a Patrick Bateman. To give a short answer, it is the influence of pop culture and more specifically, of television and glossy magazines. The analogy between a fashion magazine and the novel‟s storyworld and structure has been drawn above; a parallel with television broadcasting is equally plausible and perhaps even more felicitous because television is at least as ever-present in the narrative as are the designer labels. It may be argued that Ellis‟ satire is at its most biting when he unleashes scathing attacks on the stupidity of television. It becomes something of a running joke in the novel that Bateman never fails to inform the reader what the latest episode of his beloved The Patty Winters Show dealt with. Apart from the obvious allusion to Oprah Winfrey‟s talk show, Ellis ridicules this television genre by presenting increasingly ludicrous topics such as “UFOs That Kill” (Ellis 111), “Toddler-Murderers” (Ellis 133), “Tips on How Your Pet Can Become a Movie Star” (Ellis 280), “a boy who fell in love with a box of soap” (Ellis 285), “a man who set his daughter on fire while she was giving birth” (Ellis 334), or “Beautiful Teenage Lesbians” (Ellis 346). The punchline is delivered when Bateman declares that “[o]n The Patty Winters Show this morning a Cheerio sat in a very small chair and was interviewed for close to an hour” (Ellis 371). Of course, such an announcement may raise doubts about his sanity; the narrator‟s reliability or otherwise is beside the point here, though. Ellis clearly lampoons the fact that in a culture where advice on turning one‟s pet into a celebrity is considered a

49 suitable topic of conversation among adults, a piece of breakfast cereal may as well be interviewed for almost an hour. Similarly, when Bateman watches a TV commercial in which “a man holds up a piece of toast and tells his wife, „Hey, you‟re right . . . this margarine does taste better than shit.‟” (Ellis 355; italics and ellipsis in the original), the wording may be attributed to his faulty perception; the biggest irony, however, springs from the fact that he may have heard correctly. The following may serve as an excellent illustration of Ellis‟ views on the value and influence of television:

The Patty Winters Show this morning was about Nazis and, inexplicably, I got a real charge out of watching it. Though I wasn‟t exactly charmed by their deeds, I didn‟t find them unsympathetic either, not I might add did most of the members of the audience. One of the Nazis, in a rare display of humor, even juggled grapefruits and, delighted, I sat up in bed and clapped. (Ellis 150)

Leaving aside the black humour that pervades it, this quotation, together with the examples in the previous paragraphs, shows that Ellis sees television mainly as a repository of idiotic bits of information which unfortunately arrests most of people‟s attention. Apart from television‟s inherent inanity, the author also emphasises its power to distort perception, which is a point made by others as well. Martin Esslin evaluates the role of television as follows:

No other single factor of our present-day civilization – not the educational system or religion or science or the arts – is so all-pervasive, so influential, so totally accessible [as television]. Television [. . .] is the unifying substratum of experience. [It] is a dominant ingredient shaping our consciousness of reality. (Esslin 54)

It would appear that Ellis holds similar views as regards the pervasiveness of television and its potent force for change in people‟s perception of the world, for he endows his novel with some characteristics that may also be ascribed to TV

50 broadcasting and by doing so he brings the ubiquitousness of television into sharp focus. The centreless nature of American Psycho may be seen as being directly derived from the character of television. Ronald Schleifer clarifies that the fundamental principle upon which television is founded is “the multiplication of stories, advertisements and interchangeable television „personalities‟ in the centrelessness of ongoing television” (24). Undoubtedly, such a description is readily applicable to the novel‟s narrative with its repetitions, brand name-dropping and indistinct identities, all of which have been analysed in the foregoing. (Note the link between Ellis‟ characterisation and Schleifer‟s view of people on TV as “personalities”.) Repetition as such constitutes one of the essential qualities of television, not only in the form of reruns, but also because of serialisation of many programmes – even the evening news are based on repeated appearances of the same presenters at the same time every day, which helps to create internal structure of the unending flow of material on TV (Esslin 37). In his novel Ellis, however, highlights the dangers of the repetitive nature of television culture by taking it to its logical conclusion and depicting a society in which constant repetitions have formed a vicious cycle of routines that seems impossible to break. John Fiske aptly sums up the correlation between routines in modern life and television: “Routine lives require routine pleasures” (65).30 Moreover, some authors point up that the most deleterious and lasting effect of television is the serious deterioration in people‟s ability to attach appropriate significance to things or events – owing to the fact that TV bombards viewers with a bewildering variety of images (a dog food commercial next to a news report on a terrorist attack next to football match coverage next to a shampoo commercial next to a weather forecast etc), people have been becoming increasingly unable to differentiate between the really important and the utterly banal (Grenz 41 – 42; Hauer 53, 57). It appears that Ellis shares this concern, for he lets Bateman tell the reader about his evening at a glitzy restaurant, then about his favourite hair products, then about his attempt to make sausages from human flesh, and then about his opinions on a Genesis album; everything recounted in the same matter-of-fact manner. Bateman‟s dubious

30 It needs to be mentioned that the fact that I have used this quote in relation to Ellis‟ critical view of the repetitiveness of television culture adds negative connotations to it. Fiske, however, uses the sentence in his book as a neutral statement – he sees pop culture as inherently positive, and due to his left-leaning politics he connects it with the working class the members of which often have jobs involving routines, and consequently routines are then to be found in the culture these people consume. 51 prioritisation is often wittily satirised: “I missed the fucking sale [at an Armani boutique], and dwelling on this loss while wondering down Central Park West [. . . ], it strikes me profoundly that the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place” (Ellis 156; italics in the original). Yet another aspect of American Psycho‟s narration may be associated with the way TV broadcasting operates – everything on television is shown right before the viewer‟s eyes as though it is happening just now, at this particular moment; this creates the illusion of the present lasting continuously (Esslin 6). Bateman narrates almost exclusively in the present tense; while giving excruciatingly detailed accounts of his murders he sounds as if he is providing a running commentary, which only serves to enhance the unsettling effect of these depictions:

I keep spraying Torri with Mace and then I try to cut off her fingers with nail scissors and finally I pour acid onto her belly and genitals, but none of this comes close to killing her, so I resort to stabbing her in the throat and eventually the blade of the knife breaks off in what‟s left of her neck, stuck on bone, and I stop. While Tiffany watches, finally I saw the entire head off – torrents of blood splash against the walls, even the ceiling – and holding the head up like a prize, I take my cock, purple with stiffness, and lowering Torri‟s head to my lap I push it onto her bloodied mouth and start fucking it, until I come, exploding into it. (Ellis 292)

In addition, the narrator admits openly that the present is the only thing in which he takes interest at any given moment: “I have no patience for revelations, for new beginnings, for events that take place beyond the realm of my immediate vision” (Ellis 231). The foregoing discussion clearly indicates that Ellis considers the impact of television on modern-day society to be far-reaching and disastrous. It has been suggested above that one of the inspirations for the novel‟s structure may be TV broadcasting (the other possibility being a fashion magazine) since Ellis caricatures many features of television in the organisation of American Psycho. It is worthy of note that modelling the novel‟s narrative on the way TV works may in itself be interpreted as the author‟s direct criticism of the alarming pervasiveness of television – its influence is such that even a novel has adopted its characteristics.

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Even more importantly, it has been shown above how television informs the storyworld of American Psycho – Bateman as well as other characters are trapped in a world where the present seems to be the only existing time dimension, the distinction between the trivial and the important has eroded, and all that is left is idiotic talk shows and commercials for products that „taste better than shit‟. A logical connection may be established between such distorted perception and the addiction to the surface analysed in section 3.1 of this chapter. Firstly, if people live constantly in the present, they cannot develop any sense of permanency. Therefore, they give attention to what a person is wearing currently, but are unable to recognise anyone with any certainty and mistake people for one another, because anything that lasts from one moment to the next, as a stable identity should, is beyond their grasp. Secondly, if people cannot differentiate between the relevant and the irrelevant and cannot sort out their priorities, they may as well decide to concentrate on the tiny details of someone‟s attire instead of their true identity or their confession that they are a psychopathic serial killer. Lastly, if people are assimilated into a culture in which Nazi jugglers are thought to be strangely endearing and a morsel of cereal gives interviews, they cannot be expected to aspire to something as intellectually challenging as actually listening to what others have to say. To put it briefly, Ellis depicts television as a debilitating force that has distorted people‟s perception and clouded their judgement. What ensues is total indifference to any deeper meaning behind the surface, which in turn causes all communication to collapse.31 According to Ellis, on top of holding sway over people‟s perception and prioritisation, television also supplies a deluge of prefabricated concepts and ideas that effectively eliminate the need for any creative and independent thinking. One does not have to go to the bother of using one‟s own imagination, because the almighty and all- pervasive television provides ready-made ideas. This is ridiculed in American Psycho repeatedly, probably most mordantly in the following passage:

I‟m imagining myself on television, in commercial for a new product – wine cooler? tanning lotion? sugarless gum? – and I‟m moving in jump-cut, walking along a beach, the film is black-and-white, purposefully scratched,

31 According to Ellis‟ novel, the other factor contributing to this sorry state is rampant consumerism, which is another prominent theme of American Psycho. It is, however, beyond the scope of this thesis. 53

eerie vague pop music from the mid-1960s accompanies the footage [. . .] Now I‟m looking into the camera, now I‟m holding up the product – a new mousse? tennis shoes? – and now my hair is windblown then it‟s day then night then day again then it‟s night. (Ellis 357)

What is accented here is the apparent fact that television is ubiquitous not only in Bateman‟s real life, but it has clearly conquered his imagination, too – even his dreams have been overrun by television and are now built upon clichéd TV aesthetic. Martin Esslin appears to have come to the same conclusion as Ellis as regards the adverse effect of TV upon imagination – he believes that the pervasiveness of television results in “mechanically mass-produced fantasies [that] will inevitably tend to be reductionistic, homogenizing individual needs and inhibiting the growth of integrated personalities” (78), with the final outcome being the “mass-produced collective daydreaming” (78). This is directly applicable to what Ellis depicts in American Psycho – the excerpt above may be a case in point. One more example can be given that supports this interpretation. In the chapter “Chase, ” the novel‟s narration suddenly switches to the third person and a character called Patrick is being followed as he tries to escape the police who are pursuing him after he shot a saxophonist dead in the street. Obviously, this scene may be viewed in terms of Bateman‟s reliability as a narrator; that is, however, not important in the context of this discussion. What is of great significance here is the fact that the chapter depicts a stereotypical chase scene that may easily be found in television crime series – said Patrick carjacks a taxi, crashes it into a karaoke bar, a gunfight between him and some police officers ensues, a patrol car is blown up by after receiving a direct hit in the petrol tank, Patrick flees though the streets on foot, hides in his office and watches a police helicopter hovering outside in search of him. The whole episode shows again what a strong grip television has over his consciousness and imagination – it may be a hallucination or a daydream, but it is still in the form of a scene derived from television. In his essay on American Psycho Bernd Herzogenrath points out that the narrator often uses film terminology in his descriptions and comments on the novel‟s structure by saying that it does not “consist of chapters in the traditional sense but instead of something close to cinematic scenes, each with its own title” (116). Such an interpretation is certainly possible as phrases such as the following appear in the novel:

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“Panning down to the sidewalk there‟s an ugly old homeless bag lady . . .” (Ellis 5), or “Like a smash cut from a horror movie – a jump zoom – Luis Carruthers appears” (Ellis 281). Nevertheless, it would seem more fitting to liken the novel‟s structure and storyworld to a soap opera rather than to a film, the main reason being that most films are not characterised by repetitiveness and centrelessness. The analogy with a soap opera comes from Bateman himself – he remarks that his life is “a blank canvas, a cliché, a soap opera” (Ellis 268). And later again: “[L]ife played out as a sitcom, a blank canvas that reconfigures itself into a soap opera” (Ellis 330). This once more attests to the power of television – not only does it shape his imaginings and dreams (or hallucinations), it also provides him with similes. Should he need to compare his life to something, a sitcom or a soap opera may be found apt descriptions. As has been noted several times earlier, the novel‟s structure mirrors many aspects of the storyworld and thus, the progression of events in the narrator‟s life, which he believes bears a marked resemblance to a soap opera, is faithfully reflected in the structure of the narrative. The mental picture conjured up by the term „soap opera‟ is that of an endless melodrama with a tangled web of relationships amongst a multitude of characters which may be dragged out for decades on end (such American The Young and the Restless, or British EastEnders). In a sense, these features may be found in parodied form in American Psycho. The repetitive pattern present in the novel‟s structure would enable the author to add chapter after chapter ad infinitum – Bateman could go to more restaurants, murder more people, review more pop music albums. The relationships between the characters are more than complex – they are almost impenetrable due to the shakiness of identities, and also more or less perfunctory because no one has genuine interest in anyone else. Some events in the novel may even lampoon stereotypical plotlines from soap operas such as love triangles or secret gay relationships. In the chapter “Yale Club” Bateman decides to kill Luis Carruthers, follows him into men‟s toilet and tries to strangle him. Louis, however, mistakes this for sexual advances and informs flabbergasted Bateman that he has been in love with him, too. Also the fact that the storyworld is peopled with wealthy characters with glamorous lifestyles may be evocative of the well-known 1980s primetime soaps Dallas and Dynasty. In short, the structure, and partly also the content, of American Psycho may be viewed as a

55 caricature of a soap opera.32 By exaggerating features such as repetitiveness, ludicrous plot twists and superficial characterisation in his novel, Ellis emphasises the inherent vacuity of such television programmes; it is expressed explicitly in Bateman‟s observation quoted above in which he says that his soap opera-like life has been created out of a „blank canvas‟. This provides further support for the conclusions made above – Ellis levels a great deal of criticism at the inanity of television culture and by incorporating into his novel some of its characteristics, albeit exaggerated for the purposes of satire, he warns against its detrimental effect upon society. It has been mentioned in the opening paragraphs of this section (see page 49) that in his novel Ellis attributes the rampant indifference that leads to the collapse of communication not only to the influence of television but also of glossy magazines. The first part of this chapter has explained at some length possible links between fashion magazines and the novel‟s structure and storyworld. Particular attention has been paid to the question of characterisation and consequent indistinct identities of characters in American Psycho. One more aspect of the connection between the novel and glossy magazines is worthy of note in the context of this discussion. If television distorts perception and churns out one piece of drivel after another, then glossy magazines take on a similarly negative role as they serve as a rich source of ready-made opinions, which in effect renders one‟s own thinking totally superfluous. All the texts, with which Bateman narration‟s is interspersed, that employ the style of music reviews or instruction manuals33 may be interpreted as the narrator‟s verbatim quotations from various magazines, especially because it is implied in the text that he does exactly that. During one restaurant scene the conversation centres on an artist whose paintings are currently de rigueur (Bateman has one in his living room) and Bateman‟s attempt at contributing to the discussion is as follows:

“Well, I think his work . . . it has a kind of . . . wonderfully proportioned, purposefully mock-superficial quality.” I pause, then, trying to remember a

32 Of course, there is a great deal of irony in such an analogy, when one takes into consideration that the general tone of a soap opera is generally quite sentimental whereas American Psycho contains chapters such as “Tries to Eat and Cook Girl”. 33 See 1.3 and 1.4 for more details. 56

line from a review I saw in New York magazine: “Purposefully mock . . .” (Ellis 95; ellipses in the original)34

It is clear that he has no opinion of his own and does not even make any effort to express one. Instead he concentrates on recalling what he read in a review so as to repeat it, safe in the knowledge that it will be the right opinion if it was printed in a renowned lifestyle magazine. This tendency towards not only rehashing other people‟s ideas but towards rehashing the right people‟s ideas is satirised in a scene in which Bateman quarrels with McDermott over the quality of pizza at a particular restaurant. McDermott takes offence at Bateman‟s dismissive comments about the dish and the next time they meet, he is still resentful.

“McDermott, this is ridiculous,” I whisper. “You can‟t stay angry at me because I think the pizza at Pastels is . . . crusty.” “Brittle,” he says, shooting me a glance. “The word you used was brittle.” “I apologize,” I say. “But I‟m right. It is. You read the review in the Times, right?” (Ellis 105; italics and ellipsis in the original)

Again, it is suggested that Bateman‟s opinion about the pizza is not based on his own evaluation, but rather it is borrowed from a newspaper review. McDermott, however, produces from his pocket a Xerox copy of an article in which declares the pizza served at said restaurant to be the best in Manhattan, to which Bateman responds: “Well, [. . .] I think I have to go back and retaste the pizza. [. . .] Listen, if the pizza at Pastels is okay with Donny, [. . .] it‟s okay with me” (Ellis 106; italics in the original). First Bateman steals an idea from the right newspaper and adopts it as his own without questions; then he replaces this opinion by another because the new (and completely opposite) one originates with a celebrity businessman and is therefore even more correct in Bateman‟s eyes. Not once does it occur to him that he may form an opinion of his own. Lastly, it needs to be mentioned that the narrator of American Psycho is not an exception in the novel‟s storyworld. It is a staple of many conversations among the characters that they try to outdo each other by parading their knowledge of the rules for

34 It should be mentioned, though, that none of the characters is keen on discussing artistic merit of the paintings, they argue only about their price. 57 wearing a specific item of clothing – this knowledge does not rest upon personal taste or dress sense, though, it is again extracted from fashion magazines, learned by rote and then mindlessly repeated. Likewise, in the chapter “Lunch”, some aspects of which have already been analysed above (see page 31), the account a colleague of Bateman‟s gives about his holiday is couched in phrases that sound as though they have been take from a travel agency brochure. Stated briefly, Ellis paints a picture of a society where no one appears to think for themselves – ideas, opinions and viewpoints are taken from magazines along with tips on newest trends, hippest restaurants, latest pop music albums and exotic holidays.

3.3 American Psycho: the death of thinking and the reception of the novel

The preceding discussion now makes it possible to draw the single most important conclusion that forms the cornerstone of the interpretation of Ellis‟ novel that is presented in this thesis – American Psycho may be viewed as scathing attack on a society in which the ability to think in a deep and imaginative way has deteriorated to the point of being almost extinct and in which a worrying poverty of thought is not only widespread but also considered normal. Such a reading of the novel performs the function of a unifying element for many of the motifs that have been identified and described in the previous chapters, and is also at the heart of the interpretation of American Psycho as a work of satire. Firstly, the formal structure of the novel is in itself Ellis‟ acerbic commentary on the sorry state of present-day mainstream culture. It has been suggested above that parallels may be drawn between the organisation of the narrative and fashion magazines, soap operas, or television in general. By choosing such models and using them in a work of literature, Ellis clearly stresses the pervasiveness of these pop culture forms in contemporary society. The impact of such a technique upon the reading experience is especially striking – it almost looks as if Ellis tests the reader‟s patience and challenges him or her to make his or her way through such a repetitive narrative; as if he tries to say sarcastically that if people are perfectly willing to consider soap operas entertaining, they should enjoy a novel based on identical principles; as if he assumes gleefully that if glossy magazines are so popular and influential, people may actually appreciate a novel which at times reads like one.

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Secondly, the interpretation put forward in the first paragraphs helps to establish causal links between the novel‟s main motifs. The influence of television and popular magazines actively encourages superficiality – independent thinking is unnecessary because prefabricated opinions are supplied by magazines, deeper understanding of anything is redundant as well because television specialises in the completely idiotic, imagination is no longer needed since television produces daydreams for everyone, creativity may also be done away with because repetition and routine are the bedrock of such culture. The upshot is the society‟s complete contentment with scratching the surface, which eventually results in the destruction of all meaningful communication. If no one is capable of registering the real person behind the façade of fashionable clothes, if no one notices that behind the surface of words there is meaning, then existence of people such as Patrick Bateman is the rule rather than the exception. Ellis‟ grim view of mainstream culture corresponds to what pop culture theorists call „mass culture‟ approach. John Fiske explains that nowadays there are two main broadly defined directions the study of pop culture takes. One regards pop culture as a beneficial aspect of modern-day society that plays a crucial role in the lives of its consumers. According to the supporters of this perspective, each person uses pop culture creatively as he or she chooses freely whatever texts (i.e. TV programmes, songs, literature, etc) he or she finds appealing and relevant, and by exercising such choice each person partakes in shaping mainstream culture. The other approach takes a rather negative stance in that it views pop culture as artificially produced and then imposed on its consumers who thus have no say in it– they have grown accustomed to accepting whatever is given to them and have been turned into a mass of passive consumers, hence mass culture (20 – 21). Mass culture theory basically sees pop culture as “a stultifying and passifying culture” (Strinati 15) that “lacks intellectual challenge and stimulation” (Strinati 14). It is apparent that Ellis‟ perspective accords almost entirely with the latter approach. Lastly, it is worthy of attention that the interpretation of American Psycho proposed above carries some interesting implications where the heated debate that accompanied the publication of the novel is concerned. It has been argued in Chapter 1 that much of the controversy arose from some critics‟ and readers‟ failure to discern the satirical overtones of the text and in consequence, the novel was read overly literally and public outcry ensued. It would be hardly fair to make generalisations about the entire readership – some may have disapproved of the novel because they had really

59 found its violence too extreme; that is undoubtedly a matter of personal taste. Still, the fact that some obviously failed to see behind the surface of the narrative is deliciously ironic. If in his novel Ellis levels criticism at the unwillingness to engage in deep thought and the proclivity towards facile conclusions that are rife in contemporary society, then the reactions with which his book was met proved his point quite conclusively.

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4 Patrick Bateman: a stylish killer

Without a doubt, the single most fascinating aspect of American Psycho that has brought impetus to the intense debate surrounding the novel is the graphic violence that the reader is bound to encounter in some chapters of the book. The furore sparked off by the novel‟s publication has already been described in Chapter 1. It should be noted that a key role in the public outcry was played by the mainstream media – articles in TIME and Spy magazines had more or less initiated the ballyhoo, a blistering attack on Ellis and his work was published by The New York Times.35 Since then American Psycho has been given attention by academic writers, but still the focus on Bateman‟s violence usually prevails while other facets of the novel are mentioned only in passing,36 the outcome being that the violent passages are then often explicated without much relation to the rest of the book. In the following a few of such interpretations of the novel‟s gory scenes will be briefly summarised; an alternative reading will then be outlined, and connections will be made to the conclusions of the previous chapter. In other words, attention will be paid to the possible links between the themes of ubiquitous superficiality and violence. It is apparent enough that the meticulously detailed depictions of gruesome violence constitute the novel‟s most prominent transgressive feature (see 1.5); nevertheless, it may be argued that they are a vital component of Ellis‟ satire of contemporary society, too. The title of this chapter is meant to be understood in two senses – first, „stylish‟ meaning „having good knowledge of fashion and therefore looking attractive‟ and second, „stylish‟ meaning „done in style‟ because Bateman is not only au fait with fashion and latest trends, he also murders his victims in style. Once he does so quite literally – in preparation for the murder of Paul Owen, Bateman covers the floor in his flat “with copies of the Style section [of The New York Times]” (Ellis 208) so as to prevent bloodstains on his expensive floorboards. On other occasions Ellis may not have make any similar ironic allusions, but he nevertheless lets his narrator kill in

35 See section 1.1 in Chapter 1. 36 It should also be mentioned that as Berthold Schoene observes “the majority of criticism on American Psycho as a cultural phenomenon is in fact dedicated to Mary Harron‟s cinematic rendition” (395). I have already expressed my reservations about the film version (see Note 9 on page 11); therefore, any interpretations based on features present in the film but not in the novel are not taken into consideration in this thesis. Besides, the fact that the film adaptation aroused considerable interest in the novel itself seems quite ironic in the context of Ellis‟ criticism of the pervasiveness of television and mainstream media – a visual version of the text was needed to draw attention to the work. 61 style – simply because he incorporates such passages into his novel, he endows them with aesthetic qualities. Moreover, it is hardly contentious that they are intentionally foregrounded by their length and level of detail. Thus, attention should be given not only to their symbolism or metaphorical meaning, as is common in essays dealing with this subject, but also to their existence per se. To put it differently, it seems equally relevant to make an effort to explain the possible reasons behind Ellis‟ decision to include such imagery into his novel. At this point, it proves advantageous to view the violence in the wider context of the whole text, for a close parallel may be found with the ever-presence of pop culture references, some of which have been analysed in the preceding chapter. If Bateman‟s use of cinematic terminology, his incessant brand name-dropping and his reviews of pop albums attest to the pervasive influence of television and glossy magazines, then the violent episodes may be interpreted in a similar fashion as Ellis‟ commentary on the ubiquity of gratuitous violence in present-day culture and entertainment. If graphic violent imagery is to be found in films or on the news, why not use it in a work of literature? From this point of view, it appears clear that Ellis‟ blow-by-blow accounts of torture and murder should be regarded as his fierce criticism of a society that has become alarmingly desensitised. It seems as though he asks the reader sarcastically: Is there such a thing as too much violence in modern-day society? In his narration Bateman repeatedly reveals that he enjoys watching films in which violence is explicitly shown – such as Brian De Palma‟s 1984 thriller which he hires many times from a video shop because “I want to watch it again tonight even though I know I won‟t have enough time to masturbate over the scene where the woman is getting drilled to death by a power drill” (Ellis 67). Likewise, the topics of his favourite The Patty Winters Show include some rather gruesome subjects of conversation such as “Home Abortion Kits” (Ellis 317) or, significantly, “the letters that Ted Bundy, the mass murderer, had written to his fiancée during one of his many trials” (Ellis 349 – 350). Such a topic of a talk show, together with Bateman‟s extensive knowledge of serial killers, both real and fictional, points to the morbid fascination pop culture and the media – and consequently the public – have for depraved murderers and to their willingness to turn such people into bona fide celebrities. Richard Appignanesi and Chris Garratt point out that even though serial killers have always existed in every community it is the postmodern society that has developed a strong fixation on them. Owing to the hyper-reality created by the mass media, the

62 realness of such evil doings is completely lost – they are perceived by the viewers/readers only as thrilling images or signs without the realisation that real suffering or death were involved in the crimes when they happened (143). In consequence, Ellis‟ creation of the character of Patrick Bateman may be seen as the author‟s warning of this unhealthy obsession, as his way of saying caustically that if the deeds of real-life criminals are considered to be legitimate entertainment, readers should enthusiastically welcome a novel about such a person. To conclude, it appears well justified to interpret the presence of the violent depictions in American Psycho as one of Ellis‟ means of emphasising and criticising the level of desensitisation contemporary society has reached under the influence of omnipresent and often gratuitous violence in the media. Throughout the previous chapters many instances have been analysed that support the reading of American Psycho as a primarily satirical text. Ellis‟ employment of the satirical mode of writing may be noticed in the parts of the novel in which violence is described as well. Since satire rests upon irony and caricature, many hints at Bateman‟s grisly activities are dropped throughout his narrative in a way that produces somewhat cynically comical effect and it is exactly this touch of irony that should make the reader alive to the fact that portraying excessive violence is not an end in itself for Ellis. For instance, when Bateman compiles a list of things he wants to achieve in the not-too-distant future, he includes:

(1) to get an eight o‟clock reservation on a Friday night at Dorsia with Courtney, (2) to get myself invited to the Trump Christmas party aboard a yacht, (3) to find out as much as humanly possible about Paul Owen‟s mysterious Fisher account, (4) to saw a hardbody‟s head off and Federal Express it to Robin Barker – the dumb bastard – over at Solomon Brothers and (5) to apologize to Evelyn without making it look like an apology. (Ellis 170)

The juxtaposition of banalities such a Christmas party and a person‟s decapitation highlights the absurdity of Bateman‟s priorities and should be enough for the reader to discern the biting undertone with which the text is charged. This is even more noticeable elsewhere in the narrative – on another occasion Bateman describes to the reader the aftermath of one of his murderous frenzies:

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Her head sits on the kitchen table and its blood-soaked face – even with both eyes scooped out and a pair of Alain Mikli sunglasses over the holes – looks like it‟s frowning. I get tired very tired looking at it and though I didn‟t get any sleep last night and I‟m utterly spent, I still have a lunch appointment at Odeon with Jem Davies and Alana Burton at one. That‟s very important to me and I have to debate whether I should cancel it or not. (Ellis 279)

This passage is so absurd in its combining of ghastly details and Bateman‟s entirely misplaced concern (finding a lunch „very important‟ as opposed to a mutilated head which only makes him „very tired‟) that it seems rather bizarre to try to understand it literally. With respect to what has been discussed in the previous chapter, both these quotations may be interpreted as compelling evidence demonstrating Bateman‟s, and by extension modern-day society‟s, inability to differentiate between the relevant and the irrelevant. With a hefty dose of very black humour Ellis shows Bateman as not certain whether a severed head is reason enough for him to cancel an appointment and as fairly disappointed that despite a pair of designer sunglasses the corpse‟s head still „looks like it‟s frowning.‟ The theme of contemporary society‟s seriously impaired ability to make distinctions between what matters and what does not is touched upon in Daniel Cojocaru‟s reading of the novel‟s violence in the sense that overly materialistic society has ceased to value human life and is, therefore, “no longer interested in stopping people like Bateman, but is with eyes open encouraging him to continue his elimination of replaceable, hollow, identical human beings” (194). Nonetheless, the main line of argument in Cojocaru‟s article is represented by his analysis of Bateman‟s failed attempts at creating an identity for himself – first he strives “to conform to the yuppie- ideal, by taking it to its logical conclusions – eliminating his rivals” (190). After this effort comes to nothing since there are too many other yuppies, all of them nearly identical, he tries to define himself as a serial killer in a desperate “attempt at escaping nothingness” (192).Cojocaru, however, does not pay much attention to any possible causes of Bateman‟s difficulty in establishing a lasting identity; still, it is apparent that his reading could be used as a natural complement to the conclusions made in Chapter 3 of this thesis – a society where everyone is preoccupied exclusively with the ever-

64 changing surface (in the form of clothes or TV talk shows, for example) precludes the existence of anything permanent, such as a fixed identity, and Bateman is then forced to resort to extreme methods so as to leave his imprint on the society. Another interpretation of the symbolic meaning of violence in American Psycho that has been put forward is to be found in essays by Mark Storey and Berthold Schoene (and partly also in Jennifer Phillips‟). Here the violence perpetrated by the novel‟s narrator is understood as expression of his fear that “the form of masculinity he so desperately tries to portray [. . .] is undergoing a swift and irreversible erosion” (Storey 63). In other words, Bateman is viewed as an archetypal wealthy white male – “financially successful, popular with women, and surrounded by every conceivable luxury” (Storey 60) – who has become paranoid about losing his privileged position in society to previously marginalised groups such as women, gays, and ethnic minorities (Phillips 66; Schoene 391 – 392; Storey 64). Bateman then inflicts violence on those who he perceives as a threat to the superior social status he has enjoyed thus far, for he is well aware of the fact that he has become “a dangerous anachronism, the impersonation of an old order, and in this respect, his name may in itself be a telling cipher: Patrick representing „patriarchy‟” (Schoene 381). Although such a reading of the novel sounds perfectly plausible – especially since Ellis often caricatures Bateman‟s and his colleagues‟ machismo – two objections may be raised. Firstly, it does not take into account the rest of the narrative and tends to disregard some aspects of Bateman‟s characterisation that cannot be easily reconciled with stereotypical masculinity, the narrator‟s expertise in fashion and cosmetic products being the prime example. Secondly, and more importantly, on more than one occasion Bateman assaults a homeless beggar (and also a child), in which case it is rather difficult to see how such people could possibly pose an imminent threat to his social standing. In order to avoid adopting too narrow a perspective on the violence depicted in the novel, the interpretation that is to be suggested now tries to create an organic whole out of the themes that have been identified in the preceding chapters as significant in American Psycho, namely collapse of communication, rampant vacuity and superficiality, and extreme violence. First of all, it needs to be reiterated that, as has already been argued earlier, the acts of violence in the novel undoubtedly carry symbolic meaning and thus, it is beside the point to determine whether they are only imagined or really committed by the narrator.

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In a nutshell, it seems possible to view Bateman‟s violence as an attempt to break free from a world where the surface is all there is, and independent thinking is no longer deemed necessary. If no one is able, or willing, to search for any deeper meaning behind the surface, if all ideas and opinions on what to wear, where to eat, or what music to listen to are in fact prefabricated and given on a silver platter by glossy magazines, and entertainment means passive television watching, then one‟s chance of exercising choice, making decisions for oneself or of being creative has effectively vanished. Ellis lampoons this in the chapter “Killing Child at Zoo” in which Bateman shares with the reader his overall impression about the zoo:

The zoo seems empty, devoid of life. The polar bears look stained and drugged. [. . .] The puffins stare sadly from their glass cage. [. . .] The seals stupidly dive off rocks into swirling black water, barking mindlessly. The zookeepers feed them dead fish. [. . .] The penguins on the rocks, not swimming, look dazed, stressed out, tired and bored; they mostly yawn, sometimes stretching. Fake penguin noises, cassettes probably, play over a sound system and someone has turned up the volume because it‟s so crowded in the room. (Ellis 285 – 286)

This description is an amusingly apt metaphor for the lives the novel‟s characters lead – they drift from one fancy restaurant or club to another, take antidepressants and sometimes cocaine, fill their free time with workout routines and repeated beauty treatments, and like the penguins „they mostly yawn‟ all the time. Their outwardly glamorous lifestyles are exactly analogous to the zoo animals‟ glass cages. It is worthy of note that a stifling atmosphere of unease and tension, for which there is no apparent reason, prevails in most of the novel‟s scenes set at restaurants or clubs – not one person is ever enjoying themselves. These words of Bateman‟s encapsulate it perfectly: “[The club] is packed and everyone looks familiar, everyone looks the same. Cigar smoke hangs heavy, floating in midair, and the music, INXS again, is louder than ever, but building to what?” (Ellis 59) The narrator mentions unwittingly all the features that characterise the world of which he is a part – droves of people, all of them looking similar which makes it well- nigh impossible to recognise anyone with any certainty; vision impaired by smoke may be understood metaphorically as the characters‟ constant preoccupation with the

66 surface, which in turn affects negatively their perception; repetitions, here in the form of a repetition of the same pop song; and finally the purposelessness of it all – just as Bateman is not sure what the increasing volume of the music may lead to, none of the characters is sure whether there is any climactic moment to which their lives are leading; their lives just keep on grinding on. Bateman‟s violence then may be seen as his efforts to break this vicious cycle. The following excerpt from a dialogue between Bateman and Evelyn is of paramount importance in this context: “„My . . . my need to engage in . . . homicidal behaviour on a massive scale cannot be, um, corrected,‟ I tell her, measuring each word carefully. „But I . . . have no other way to express my blocked . . . needs‟” (Ellis 325; italics and ellipses in the original).37 Quite logically, these „blocked needs‟ to which the narrator refers should be understood as needs to do something the society prevents him from doing and, as has been concluded in Chapter 3, what a society informed by glossy magazines and television sadly lacks is independent thinking and decision-making, and creativity. Therefore, it may be argued that Bateman‟s acts of violence stem largely from his need to fulfil ambitions the realisation of which has been thwarted by society – ambitions such as the freedom to decide and any kind of creative expression. Morbid as it may sound, Bateman does display ingenuity in his methods of inflicting violence on other people; he also decides freely who his next victim will be – he never hurts his girlfriend Evelyn, or his lover Courtney, nor does he attack the beggar in the chapter “Bum on Fifth” considering it a waste of time. Deciding that he does not kill a woman he had a dinner with, Bateman remarks: “[T]he useless fact remains: Patricia will stay alive [. . .] This is simply how the world, my world, moves” (Ellis 74). Here the stark contrast is obvious between his secret world of torture and murder in which he can decide for himself (whether to kill or not), and the rest of his life in which he slavishly follows fashion rules and adopts the right opinions from the right magazine reviews as his own. Simply put, in a society where glossy magazines impose rules and regulations on one‟s lifestyle and original thinking has been replaced by the stupidity of television, an act of violence may be seen as the only opportunity to make sure that underneath all the vacuity, artificiality and superficiality there still is something deeper and real, such as death.

37 As is to be expected in American Psycho, Bateman‟s admission is not met by any appropriate reaction, because “[a]s usual, Evelyn misses the essence of what I‟m saying” (Ellis 325). 67

The most persuasive piece of evidence that can be gathered in support of such a reading of American Psycho is the noticeable change in Bateman‟s narration in the last third of the novel. Curiously enough, the higher the frequency with which the grisly descriptions of torture and murder appear, the more reflective the narrator seems to become. From the outset of his narration Bateman mentions sporadically his feelings of unease that he cannot seem to explain: “I feel very sad at this moment for some reason, [. . .] and a lump forms in my throat but I swallow and take a sip from my Corona and the emotion passes” (Ellis 134). It is, however, only in the last part of the novel that the narrator appears to be gradually waking up to the reality of his whole life. After an exasperating long-winded dinner conversation with Evelyn, during which no real communication actually takes place, though, frustrated Bateman wonders: “If I were an actual automaton what difference would there really be?” (Ellis 330) His remark indicates clearly enough that he comes to realise that it is utterly futile trying to engage in meaningful interaction with a person if they do not in fact listen to him. Later he appears to have gained even more penetrating insight:

I‟m weeping for myself, unable to find solace in any of this, [. . .] cursing the earth and everything I have been taught: principles, distinctions, choices, morals, compromises, knowledge, unity, prayer – all of it was wrong, without any final purpose. All it came down to was: die or adapt. (Ellis 332)

It is of crucial importance that in this epiphany Bateman identifies as the basic cause for his misery the fact that he has been taught to „die or adapt‟; obviously not wanting to die he had to adapt to living in a society founded on the belief that surface is all there is. In other words, he has conformed to the standards of such a society, which leads to his discontent, and his inability to shake off this discontent in turn ignites his murderous rage. This goes to prove a point that has already been made in Chapter 3 (see page 59) that the character of Patrick Bateman should not be seen as an exception in society (which could be the case, were American Psycho a conventional thriller); rather, Bateman is a product of a society which has moulded him into what he is. In addition, by placing a character such as Bateman at the centre of his satire, Ellis even intensifies his fierce criticism of a society that has fallen victim to the mind- numbing influence of television and fashion magazines – only an act as extreme as

68 chopping a person into pieces is enough to rouse one from the stupor induced by the vacuity of pop culture. However, the picture of society Ellis draws is even grimmer, since there remains no hope for Bateman. Hard as he may try to break free, he is destined to fail in the end. Even though for a short time it seems as though the realisation is dawning on him little by little that his life is completely empty under the glittering surface, in the last chapter everything goes back to normal. Bateman is seen at a glitzy restaurant yet again concentrating on others‟ clothes and engaging in a directionless conversation. He finishes his narrative with a description of a sign above the door with the words “THIS IS NOT AN EXIT” (Ellis 384; capitalised in the original). The author thus takes a very gloomy, and rather fatalistic, view on modern-day society in which the all-pervasive influence of television and popular media has distorted people‟s perception and turned their priorities upside down. Arguably, Ellis‟ apparent pessimism is even more disconcerting than all the novel‟s graphic violence.

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Conclusion

This diploma thesis presents an in-depth analysis of various satirical and transgressive elements that are to be found in Bret Easton Ellis‟ American Psycho. Attention has been paid to three selected areas which correspond with three crucial roles the novel‟s central protagonist plays in the narrative – first, Bateman as a narrator and the characteristics of the novel‟s narration; second, Bateman as an expert in fashion and TV addict and the impact of pop culture; and third, Bateman as a serial killer and the depiction of violence. Many illustrative examples have been given and analysed in order to demonstrate that satire, i.e. a mode of writing based on irony, caricature and exaggeration, forms the foundation of Ellis‟ novel. It has been shown that it is not only the portrayal of an extremely materialistic, pop culture-obsessed society that should be taken as a satirical commentary, but it is also the graphic depiction of excessive violence that should be understood as the author‟s way of lampooning certain tendencies of modern-day society (such as alarming desensitisation). In general, what has been highlighted throughout the thesis is textual clues that provide justification for the claim made in Chapter 1 that American Psycho should be interpreted allegorically (as a work of satire), rather than literally. In Chapters 2, 3 and 4 a number of transgressive elements, both formal and thematic, have been described and their function has been explicated. The novel features transgressions in terms of content, the most obvious being the explicitly sexual scenes that may be termed „pornographic‟ and the grisly depictions of torture of murder. As for the formal transgressive elements, the most prominent of them are the employment of a narrator whose reliability or otherwise can never be determined, the method of characterisation which results in unstable identities, and the mixing of different genres and types of texts. By making use of all these elements Ellis creates a text that transgresses not only the limits of what is regarded as moral or socially acceptable, but also the boundaries of more conventional fiction writing. It has been argued that, on the most general level, American Psycho may be interpreted as a novel about the death of any deeper and independent thinking in contemporary society, about the inability – or perhaps unwillingness – to look for meaning hidden behind the surface. Ellis fiercely criticises this negative tendency by

70 portraying in his work people so addicted to superficiality and blinded by vacuity that they are not only unable to engage in meaningful communication, but also totally oblivious to the fact that there may be a serial killer in their midst. Without a doubt this message of American Psycho is still more than relevant today, even though the book was published twenty years ago.

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