“The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.” – Oscar Wilde
Out of all the books I’ve read, I can’t recall one that shocked me as much as American Psycho: a novel that assaulted my senses so profoundly that at its conclusion I felt pure and utter relief. Usually when a book has me reading at odd hours or picking it up even for a moment to just get in a page or two, I dread the ending. Discovering a book that excites, inspires, and entertains you is a great feeling. When the story ends, it’s akin to having to go home after a phenomenal adventure. American Psycho was one adventure I was not too sad to see end.
Yet, my fascination with the novel itself has not only caused me to begin reading it a second time but to share it with friends as well. I’m sure that it’s not the first time that intrigue and unease have walked a fine line together.
On the surface, what does American Psycho show us? The novel chronicles the downward spiral of one Mr. Patrick Bateman, a self-obsessed Manhattanite yuppie who moonlights as a serial killer. The beginning of the novel outlines Bateman’s habits and routines from a detailed instruction of the products and methods Bateman uses to wash his face to how he scores and snorts coke in a club with his Wall Street cronies.
We get a good look at Bateman’s social circle: all shallow, all oblivious, all the same. We learn more than we want to know about the designer clothes, high-tech electronics, and music stylings that dominate the 80s. Entire chapters are dedicated to artists such as Whitney Houston and Huey Lewis and the News. For the first 80 pages, Patrick’s “true” nature is merely briefly alluded to only to suck us back into the seemingly mundane and repetitive lifestyle of the rich and not so famous.
I’ve found that this disarming introduction to one of the most disturbing characters I’ve ever read is pretty much genius. When Ellis finally lifts the curtain social obligation and we see the details of Bateman’s private life, the shock is genuine and terrifying not because we didn’t expect it (the book is called American Psycho) but because Bateman’s public persona has lowered our expectations of how far from “normal” Bateman’s character can get.
How can one so seemingly impassive and who is often referred to as “the boy next door” hide so completely his true desires: “You’re a fucking ugly bitch,” Bateman says to an oblivious bartender, “I want to stab [you] to death and play around with your blood.” That excerpt isn’t even the worst of it…
My friend suggested to me that I ease into a discussion of American Psycho, much like Ellis eases into Bateman’s unsettling propensity for murder, rape, and torture. I wholly agreed with her approach because I can honestly say that I’m not sure how far I would have gotten into the novel if it opened with Bateman and a chainsaw.
Despite what may follow, Ellis’s intro to American Psycho is an amazing testimony to the art of a(i)llusion in literary form. As disturbing as the novel may get, I never cease to admire its beginning.
“Wear the old coat and buy the new book.” 
I have read American Psycho three times and I have to say that it impressed me more each time. Bateman’s desperate search for some sort of identity is as heartbreaking as it is horrific. Especially as it might all be inside Bateman’s head. A very clever novel.