![]() It’s supposed to be shallow, vacuous, and deadeningly repetitive. What makes Bret Easton Ellis’ lurid controversy magnet such a strange, tricky proposition is that its dreariness feels largely intentional. But it’s also hard to read because so much of it is boring, tedious, monotonous, and repetitive to the point of perversity. The novel’s endless parade of explicit, stomach-churning, pornographic, boundary-pushing violence against animals, homeless people, and young women makes it a struggle to finish, especially for delicate souls like myself. ![]() ![]() That’s because American Psycho is an exceedingly difficult book to read. When it was released to thundering controversy and massive hype in 1991, Bret Easton Ellis’ satirical novel American Psycho was a scandal, a pop-culture phenomenon, and a flashpoint for heated arguments about censorship, free expression, misogyny, violence, corporate responsibility, and pornography more than it was a book people might actually read and, even more improbably, enjoy. ![]()
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