American Psycho
⛰ What It's About
🧠 Thoughts
Intro
Torture and Violence
Violence Towards Women
Bateman is violent mainly towards women and no he's not "just sadistic"; he's way beyond this shit! He tortures women and the description of his torture acts are sickening. I didn't want to carry on reading the book after reading one of the torture scenes, but I held on after being advised to do so. I have to admit that a real insane psycho serial killer would find this book highly "erotic". Bateman frequently tells people he’s a murderer, and they never react like any normal human would. He throws in statements like, “I like to dissect girls. Did you know I’m utterly insane?”; he even once talked to the woman who does him a facial about torturing women.
".......then take a girl and a dog – a collie, a chow, a sharpie, it doesn't really matter – and then hook up this transfusion pump, this IV set, and switch their blood, you know, pump the dog's blood into the hardbody and vice versa, did I ever tell you this?"
He also told the woman at the counter of a movie rental store about power drilling a woman.
"I like the part in Body Double where the woman… gets drilled by the… power driller in the movie… the best,"
Violence Towards the Deceased
Violence Towards the Homeless
Bateman exhibits extreme violence towards the homeless; he tortures homeless people to kill them because he thinks he's better than them thanks to his money. Bateman is then able to casually walk in public without regret, even while covered in blood, which can be read as indicating that Bateman actually imagined the whole event or as satirically pointing out how society doesn't care about injustice done to the poor.
"Do you know what a fucking loser you are?" He starts nodding helplessly and I pull out a long, thin knife with a serrated edge and, being very careful not to kill him, push maybe half an inch of the blade into his right eye, flicking the handle up, instantly popping the retina.
On my way into the Chinese cleaners I brush past a crying bum, an old man, forty or fifty, fat and grizzled, and just as I'm opening the door I notice, to top it off, that he's also blind and I step on his foot, which is actually a stump, causing him to drop his cup, scattering change all over the sidewalk. Did I do this on purpose? What do you think? Or did I do this accidentally?
Not only does Bateman mistreat homeless people, but so do his friends.
Back at our table Reeves is telling Hamlin about how he taunts the homeless in the streets, about how he hands a dollar to them as he approaches and then yanks it away and pockets it right when he passes the bums.
Violence Towards Homosexuals
When I stopped on the corner of Sixteenth Street and made a closer inspection it turned out to be something called a "Gay Pride Parade," which made my stomach turn. I stood in front of Paul Smith and watched with a certain traumatized fascination, my mind reeling with the concept that a human being, a man, could feel pride over sodomizing another man, but when I began to receive fey catcalls from aging, overmuscled beachboys with walrus like mustaches in between the lines "There's a place for us, Somewhere a place for us," I sprinted over to Sixth Avenue, decided to be late for the office and took a cab back to my apartment where I put on a new suit (by Cerruti 1881), gave myself a pedicure and tortured to death a small dog I had bought earlier this week in a pet store on Lexington.
Bateman's violence against a queer man with his dog:
In one swift movement I pick the dog up quickly by the neck and hold it with my left arm, pushing it back against the streetlamp while it nips at me and I can actually hear my hand crush its trachea. I push the serrated blade into its stomach and quickly slice open its hairless belly in a squirt of brown blood, its legs kicking and clawing at me, then blue and red intestines bulge out and I drop the dog onto the sidewalk, the queer just standing there, still gripping the leash, and this has all happened so fast he's in shock and he just stares in horror saying "oh my god oh my god" as the sharpei drags itself around in a circle, its tail wagging, squealing, and it starts licking and sniffing the pile of its own intestines. I push the queer back, hard, with a bloodied glove and start randomly stabbing him in the face and head, finally slashing his throat open in two brief chopping motions; an arc of red-brown blood splatters the white BMW 320i parked at the curb, setting off its car alarm, four fountainlike bursts coming from below his chin.
Materialism
Materialism is the main theme of this book. Bateman and his wall street fellas have a keen eye for materialistic matters. We can see that Bateman is very mindful of other people's clothes and possessions, and he analyzes them with great care and sophistication. He is all about appearance, looks and outer superficial matters.
Courtney is wearing a triple-layered silk organdy top and a long velvet skirt with a fishtail hem, velvet-ribbon and enamel earrings by José and Maria Barrera, gloves by Portolano and shoes from Gucci.
Ignoring her, I reach into my pocket for a cigar, pull it out and tap it against the table. "Patrick," she warns, staring at the flame. "What?" I ask, my hand frozen in midair, about to light the tip of the cigar. "You didn't ask permission," she says, unsmiling. "Did I tell you I'm wearing sixty-dollar boxer shorts?" I ask, trying to appease her.
I'm wearing a six-button double-breasted wool suit by Ermenegildo Zegna, a striped cotton shirt by Luciano Barbera, a silk tie by Armani, suede wing-tips by Ralph Lauren, socks by E. G. Smith. Men
To make the matters worse, Bateman mentions the fancy building he lives in before his own name when he was introducing himself in the movie.
I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st street. My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself, and a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine...
Superficiality
Bateman cares a lot about his looks and that's clear by his daily routine in which he takes care of his skin, works out and eats a balanced diet although he smokes ciggies, drinks alcohol and does drugs frequently.
My name is Patrick Bateman. I’m 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself and a balanced diet and rigorous exercise routine. In the morning if my face is a little puffy I’ll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do 1000 now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial mask which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion.
Note that the quote above about Bateman's morning routing is taken from the movie because in the book, the morning routine is covered comprehensively in TWO WHOLE PAGES which demonstrates Bateman's meticulousness.
Because Bateman religiously cares about his looks, he becomes terribly upset and insecure when is fiancé comments about his hairstyle.
"Don't be nasty. He's very handsome," she says and then suggests, "Why don't you get your hair styled that way?" Before this comment I was an automaton, only vaguely paying attention to Evelyn, but now I'm panicked, and I ask, "What's wrong with my hair?" In a matter of seconds my rage quadruples. "What the hell is wrong with my hair?" I touch it lightly.
"You should match the socks with the trousers," Todd Hamlin tells Reeves, who is listening intently, stirring his Beefeater on the rocks with a swizzle stick. "Who says?" George asks. "Now listen," Hamlin patiently explains. "If you wear gray trousers, you wear gray socks. It's as simple as that." "But wait," I interrupt. "What if the shoes are black?" "That's okay," Hamlin says, sipping his martini. "But then the belt has to match the shoes." "So what you're saying is that with a gray suit you can either wear gray or black socks," I ask. "Er… yeah," Hamlin says, confused. "I guess. Did I say that?" "See, Hamlin," I say, "I disagree about the belt since the shoes are so far away from the actual belt line. I think you should concentrate on wearing a belt that coordinates with the trousers." "He has a point," Reeves says.
Sexual Objectification of Women
Bateman objectifies women and treats them as sex objects that are meant to please him only. Not only Bateman objectifies women, but so do his friends. They watch women in restaurants, at which they hang out, and they call them hardbodies and judge them by their looks. They
don't care about people's feelings and thoughts; a human is just money, looks and body to them.I wouldn't mind having sex with her body.
Bateman's objectification of women is also evident when he picks up a prostitute and decides not to know her name and just call her Christie which clearly shows how he dehumanizes women and not care about their being; he only cares about their bodies.
Bateman also objectifies his work secretary by telling her what to dress.
"Don't wear that outfit again," I say, looking her over quickly. "Thanks for the Ransom file." "Um…" She stalls, about to hand me the Perrier, and asks, "What? I didn't hear you," before setting the drink on my desk. "I said," and I repeat myself calmly, grinning, "do not wear that outfit again. Wear a dress. A skirt or something." She stands there only a little stunned, and after she looks down at herself, she smiles like some kind of cretin. "You don't like this, I take it," she says humbly. "Come on," I say, sipping my Perrier. "You're prettier than that." 'Thanks, Patrick," she says sarcastically, though I bet tomorrow she'll be wearing a dress. The phone on her desk rings. I tell her I'm not here. She turns to leave. "And high heels," I mention. "I like high heels.
Loss of Identity
"What in the fuck is Morrison wearing?" Preston asks himself. "Is that really a glen-plaid suit with a checkered shirt?" "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."
The blurred identities also shows us that Bateman is not the only psycho out there; all his wall street fellas are psychos like him. Bateman's friends ignore or simply don't care about Bateman's unusual behavior because either everyone is too narcissistic to notice or care; everyone cares only about themselves. So the story isn't about a psychopath trying to fit in but is about an insane man trying to become sane in an insane society.
The Significance of The Pattty Winters Show
The Pattty Winters Show is a fictional show that appears in the book. This show hosts weird people with unusual topics like serial killers, Nazism, UFOs, nuclear war, a boy who fell in love with a bar of soap, a man who lit his daughter on fire while she was giving birth. Bateman finds himself similar to the freaks hosted in this show. The topics featured on this show get more and more absurd as the book progresses which reflects how Bateman is getting deeper and deeper in shit until he can't escape it. It also reflects Bateman's decreased sense of reality.This is Not an Exit
Are the Events of the Book Real or Imagined?
"One thing I think is a failure on my part is people keep coming out of the film thinking that its all a dream, and I never intended that. All I wanted was to be ambiguous in the way that the book was. I think it's a failure of mine in the final scene because I just got the emphasis wrong. I should have left it more open ended. It makes it look like it was all in his head, and as far as I'm concerned, it's not." Mary Harron, the director of the movieBret Easton Ellis, the author of the book, didn't state whether the events are real or not. He wanted the book to be ambiguous because he thinks that the book would be less interesting if he answered the question of whether this is real or just in Bateman's head.
What I Didn't Like About the Book
The fingers I haven't nailed I try to bite off, almost succeeding on her left thumb which I manage to chew all the flesh off of, leaving the bone exposed.
I finally have to resort to pouring acid around the outside of the pussy so that the flesh can give way to the greased end of the Habitrail and soon enough it slides in, easily. "I hope this hurts you," I say.
I start by skinning Torri a little, making incisions with a steak knife and ripping bits of flesh from her legs and stomach while she screams in vain, begging for mercy in a high thin voice, and I'm hoping that she realizes her punishment will end up being relatively light compared to what I've planned for the other one.
Conclusion
