I just got through the “Another Night” chapter of Ellis’s American Psycho, and boy, what a traumatic experience. I’m not sure which is more challenging: trying to get through the gory, violent passages of this novel, or forcing myself to read its minutia of the mundane. I swear, going through the seemingly endless passage of Bateman and friends discussing which restaurant to visit is akin to watching someone slowly trim their toenails…cutting down close to the cuticles…and having them do so while they hold their fingers right up to your face. I understand what Ellis is trying to do here. But just because I see where he’s going, it doesn’t mean I have to appreciate it.
- Filed under: Fiction,