Psycho Salon

[Warning: Some spoilers contained herein for American Psycho and Swimming With Sharks.]

Scott Lemieux, who I always picture as a little French kitten saying, in a dialogue bubble, “Le Mew,” is one of my favorite bloggers, to whom I don’t link nearly enough. But it turns out he doesn’t like American Psycho, neither the book nor the film, which I must admit gave me momentary heart palpitations. That is until I realized that I’m not sure I know any straight men who have liked the book, and precious few (Mr. Shakes, and…uh….) who liked the film. I’m sure there are some, but I don’t know any.* I do, however, know women and gay men who like both a whole lot.

Mr. Furious and I both read the book in high school, and we both loved it. When the film came out a decade later, we went to see it, and while people walked out, and Mr. Curious and Mr. Shakes (neither of whom had read the book) watched it with probably more perplexity than enjoyment, Mr. F and I were rolling in the aisles. I mean, it is a comedy.

The way I read it, as I noted at Mannion’s place when he wrote about Ellis recently, was as “a metaphor for corporate life. The unnecessarily detailed gore was boring, and I likened it to what I imagined to be the flesh and bones of mergers and acquisitions. I've held onto that first impression, and so I still like the book. (Corporate life didn't dissuade me, either.)” I was also never distressed by the violence against women, mainly because it wasn’t directed exclusively at women, but also because it served the metaphor in a way similar to that of Swimming With Sharks, which I’ve always found a disturbing but precise commentary on women in business. It’s entirely unexpected when, in the end, the two male rivals (named Buddy and Guy) decide to call it a day on their enmity, and instead of killing each other, they kill their female cohort, without a hint of remorse. But the shock gives way to an all-too-easily grasped comprehension of the why, even as one is aghast at their motives. We condemn it, but not because it is inexplicable. (For those who question whether this is a feminist film, note who narrates.)

Scott correctly notes American Psycho isn’t misogynist, in spite of feminist boycotts, but still finds the film a failure and the book barf-inducing. Mannion found the book a gimmicky failure. But Scott sees it as a critique of the Reagan years, and Mannion notes it failed as both satire and horror. They’re not necessarily wrong—I believe it did aspire in some way to be all those things—but perhaps there’s just not much else there for either of them to see, which is a problem with perspective, rather than the book itself (ditto the film).

Mannion notes, “Bateman doesn't have a soul to begin with, so who cares? He starts as a monster, and a not particularly interesting monster at that.” You see, when he reads the book, he identifies with Bateman, or tries to, and finds him lacking a soul, and, perhaps even more tragically, uninteresting. (Cue Oscar Wilde.) He looks through Bateman’s eyes, like a good reader is meant to, but the creepiness—and ultimately, the satisfaction—of American Psycho for me was that I felt Bateman’s cold stare on my skin.

I once worked as the marketing and operations manager for a firm so male-dominated that I was the only woman on an entire floor. For a woman who foolishly thought the gender wars in the corporate workplace were pretty much old news, it was an enlightening experience. I’d be lying if I said that there weren’t times I seemed to hear in the distance the faint revving of a chainsaw.

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* Until you all tell me in comments, that is.