Of all the writers covered on this blog over the past 14 years, Bret Easton Ellis (or BEE as he is semi-affectionately known in literary circles, the counterpoint to DFW) has more appearances than most. To do the oeuvre exercise: Less Than Zero has not been reviewed, but I've read it multiple times and now believe it is still his best. I used to tell people that Glamorama was the best. Now, I don't necessarily renounce that, but as far as recommending his books go, I would recommend Less Than Zero over Glamorama. (And to follow up on the question posed in the review of his previous release, no, Glamorama does not make it onto the Best Books list; it's likely that Less Than Zero would.)
I'm not sure I'd recommend Rules of Attraction over Glamorama, but maybe, depending on how much you like your books to fuck with you. Rules of Attraction and Less Than Zero are rather straightforward narratives where Ellis's appeal should be clear to most readers: the books are relatively short, "punchy," dialogue-heavy, "cool," and their words seem to spool off the page--they're not page-turners in the traditional sense but they're quick reads if you "get" them.
American Psycho is his only book that I never finished, and feel with that book, he was trying to "develop" as an artist, and it certainly has the reputation (to say nothing of the film, which has its own referents in Glamorama) to prove it. Ellis was a star from the moment he debuted, and while his work was "gritty" from the start, he went over the top with it. I think I've heard him say that the book was a metaphor for cocaine and that makes sense. And it would make sense for Glamorama, too.
That said, this is a much better book than American Psycho. Maybe I am just jaded about American Psycho because I saw the movie enough times for the source material to be demystified. I think everyone remembers the first time they saw that movie, and it was one of the few times you could say a super controversial book also became a super controversial movie, and I don't think anyone understood the ending. Over time, now, I know that the ending is basically an admission that he has been fucking with the reader all along.
That is not the case in Glamorama, and its ending mystified me as well. To compare it to the rest of the oeuvre, Lunar Park is another one that was read-and-not-reviewed, my copy is lost, and it's something of an anomaly in the oeuvre (a faux-autobiography styled as an homage to Stephen King), but probably just as good as Glamorama, probably a better book to recommend for the so-called "average" reader. Imperial Bedrooms was the sequel to Less Than Zero, and I enjoyed it for the fan-service it represented, and still think it would make an amazing movie, even 12 years later, but I'm afraid that ship has sailed. I have no qualms about recommending it. Conversely I did not recommend The Informers and I do not think I'm alone in that, but it's an interesting read if you are an Ellis fan. I wouldn't read it as a model for the perfect short story, but there are probably two or three in it that are more decent than most. There was also White, which is similar to The Informers in being an anomaly, slightly better because Ellis is a better essayist than short story writer, but maybe slightly worse because he also seems to be "baiting" the reader and burnishing his newfound reputation as a cultural curmudgeon.
He's talked about Glamorama (1998) as his favorite novel of his own, and how it is also the most hated of his works. True, it is easy to misunderstand, and in the same way that I think American Psycho (1991) is easy to misunderstand.
***
They are both very shallow books on the surface. The first one is littered with fashion: any brand name you can imagine is going to be referenced somewhere. This one is littered with celebrity: pretty much anyone who was anyone in 1998 (and a surprising number of more "obscure celebrities" that seemed plucked out of BEE's personal circle, that have evolved in the cultural conversation over the ensuing decades) is mentioned here.
More importantly, perhaps, it references my preferred racer in Mario Kart 8:
"'Shhh, I'm playing,' I tell her. 'Yoshi's eaten four gold coins and he's trying to find the fifth. I need to concentrate.'
'Oh my god, who gives a shit,' Alison sighs. 'We're dealing with a fat midget who rides a dinosaur and saves his girlfriend from a pissed-off gorilla? Victor, get serious.'
'It's not his girlfriend. It's Princess Toadstool. And it's not a gorilla,' I stress. 'It's Lemmy Koopa of the evil Koopa clan. And baby, as usual, you're missing the point.'
'Please enlighten me.'
'The whole point of Super Mario Bros. is that it mirrors life.'
'I'm following.' She checks her nails. 'God knows why.'
'Kill or be killed.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Time is running out.'
'Gotcha.'
'And in the end, baby, you...are...alone.'
'Right.' She stands up. 'Well, Victor, that really captures the spirit of our relationship, honey.'" (25)
***
Plot: novel concerns Victor Ward, who is a 27-year-old male model, previously seen in a small supporting role in The Rules of Attraction. He lives in Manhattan and he dates another model named Chloe Byrnes, and he has an affair with Alison Poole, who is Damien's (I forget his last name) girlfriend. Victor is opening a new nightclub with Damien. Victor is the lead singer of an alternative rock band and barely involved and quits the band in the one scene they have. He goes to the Tower Records at Broadway and 4th St. and encounters Lauren Hynde, who went with him to Camden College (and has a much bigger role in Rules of Attraction). They hook up after.
These are the first 200 pages of the novel. They all concern preparations for opening the nightclub. It's very stressful, but with shallow concerns about who is on the invite list, who is going to show up, and whether it will be a success if they don't. Ultimately, Damien finds out that Victor is having an affair with his girlfriend and there is a scary scene where he threatens him and then eventually somehow sends Victor into the actual plot of the novel, which really starts on a cruise ship from New York to London.
The novel is comprised of six parts, each part consisting of a number of chapters that count down to 0. This was vaguely clever. At the very end of Part 1, Chapter 0, Ellis paints the scene at his protagonist's apartment:
"On my desk: free drink tickets, a Cohiba cigar still in its container, a Clash CD--Sandinista!--unopened, a check to Save the Rainforest returned because of insufficient funds, last year's Social Register, a baggie of psilocybin mushrooms, a half-empty bottle of Snapple, a roll of Mentos, an ad ripped from a magazine of Tyson promoting a new lip balm and the dragon tattoo etched on his bicep that has a Chinese inscription on it that translated means 'don't trust anyone' and an old fax machine and falling out of the fax machine at this moment is a slip of fax paper that I pick up and read.
On it:
nie Marais, Christopher Lambert, Tommy Lee, Lauren Hutton, Claire Danes, Patty Hearst, Richard Grieco, Pino Luongo, Steffi Graf, Michael J. Fox, Billy Crudup, Marc Jacobs, Marc Audibet, the Butthole Surfers, George Clinton, Henry Rollins, Nike, Kim Deal, Beavis and Butt-head, Anita Hill, Jeff Koons, Nicole Kidman, Howard Stern, Jim Shaw, Mark Romanek, Stussy, Whit Stillman, Isabella Rossellini, Christian Francis Roth, Vanessa Williams, Larry Clark, Rob Morrow, Robin Wright, Jennifer Connelly, RuPaul, Chelsea Clinton, Penelope Spheeris, Glenn Close, Mandie Erickson, Mark Kostabi, Rene Russo, Yasmen, Robert Rodriguez, Dr. Dre, Craig Kallman, Rosie Perez, Campion Platt, Jane Pratt, Natasha Richardson, Scott Wolf, Yohji Yamamoto, L7, Donna Tartt, Spike Jonze, Sara Gilbert, Sam Bayer, Margaret Cho, Steve Albini, Kevin Smith, Jim Rome, Rick Rubin, Gary Panter, Mary Morris, Betsey Johnson, Angela Janklow, Shannen Doherty, Molly Ringwald, O.J. Simpson, Michael DeLuca, Laura Dern, Rene Chun, the Brady Bunch, Toni Braxton, Shabba Ranks, the Miller Sisters, Jim Carrey, Robin Givens, Bruno Beuilacqua de Santangelo, Huckleberry Finn, Bill Murr (212)
It is just amusing sometimes to see who Ellis decides to namedrop. It seems rather random. The world depicted in this novel is a familiar one--our 1998 reality--but turned upside-down; it has a sort of "Alice in Wonderland" type-feel, if Lewis Carrol had been a tabloid journalist.
***
There are a number of Ellis tropes and motifs that recur, though these may be more limited to this novel and AP. Mistaken identity is one of them. Being seen at places one has never been. The idea that one is so bland and superficial and generically attractive that one blends in with everyone else in that cohort. In this case, however, it's more real: photoshopping technology for the average consumer user is now available.
There is a film crew that follows Victor around. The film crew may or may not be imagined.
There is hardcore sex and violence, which may only be in this and AP. Ellis does drop into the genres of both "erotic fiction" (several scenes, though one more drawn out and vaguely surprising) and "torture porn" (which he arguably created in AP, which would soon be capitalized upon by an entire generation of horror filmmakers). Sometimes we can get lurid on Flying Houses but I feel it may be best not to excerpt one of these, as they are not particularly interesting. But yes, Ellis is capable of working in these genres if he wants to.
There is the comedie humaine element to his oeuvre, which is blended with the mistaken identity trope and his own personal semi-autobiographical wink-winks, most particularly in the character of Christian Bale/Russell.
***
It is worth a brief excursion into Christian Bale's career to properly understand his role in this novel, because quite clearly, he is the one celebrity that plays a more meaningful role. (Both Joaquin and River Phoenix and Skeet Ulrich would be the others, but Bale actually moves the plot forward.)
Now everyone knows that American Psycho (2000) was Christian Bale's breakout role, and many people know that he was also a child actor, notably in Empire of the Sun (1987) and Newsies (1992). He had other small roles, but gained more widespread recognition after notable roles in Little Women (1994) and Pocahontas (1995--voice work, but a key character) and then having his biggest role yet as an adult in Velvet Goldmine (1998), which is an odd film but somewhat required viewing for so-called cinephiles, as it is a Todd Haynes film. (Bale would later play one of the iterations of Bob Dylan for Haynes in I'm Not There, which is a slightly better movie, though Cate Blanchett steals it as she tends to do.)
But in 1998, he was likely most famous for his casting as Patrick Bateman. The film's development was closely watched by people in the industry (or say, young aspiring filmmakers teetering on 17) because AP was such a controversial novel and so any adaptation of it would be controversial too. Early reports reflected an NC-17 rating, which is terrible for commercial prospects but alluring to those not able to get into the theater (see also Requiem for a Dream). Ultimately while the film was not an enormous success (few adaptations are), it was widely seen, and I think people look back on it and see an Oscar-worthy performance, because Bale completely owns it and kills it. It's not surprising that he has won multiple Oscars since.
And of course, BEE must be very well apprised of the status of the film, must have met Bale, must have known that Bale would make or break AP the film, and he was writing Glamorama throughout the course of that film's development:
"Behind us, walking out of the front entrance of the apartment on Avenue Verdier, are Palakon, Delta, Crater--all in overcoats and sunglasses--without the Japanese man. They maneuver past us, walking purposefully down the block, conferring with one another. Jamie barely notices them since she's preoccupied with staring at Russell. But the director stops walking towards me and stares at Palakon as he passes by, and something in the director's face tightens and he worriedly glances back at me and then once more at Palakon.
'It's a favor,' [teaching Victor French] Russell says, putting on Diesel sunglasses. 'I'm between roles, so it's cool.'
'He's between roles,' I'm saying. 'He's waiting for a good part. One worthy of his skills.'
'Listen, I gotta split,' Russell says. 'I'll talk to you later, man. Nice meeting you, Jamie.'
'Yeah,' Jamie says tentatively. 'You too, Christian.'
'Peace,' he says, moving off. 'Victor, I'll be in touch. Au revoir.'" (433)
There are also a lot of drugs in this novel, as with any Ellis novel, and so blending in this weird version of reality with Bale who may or may not be a double agent or just a doppelganger (to say nothing of the 1-2 film crews that are making a movie tracking the plot of the novel), adds to the hazy sense that Ellis was reflecting on the reality of his experience as an aging wunderkind (this was published as he turned 35, which is not old but felt older back then) and that he was completely zonked out while writing it and it's super messy and sloppy and doesn't hold together and is mostly just there to make the reader go "WTF" in the same way as AP, both novel and film. But that's not a charitable view. This novel is better than that, but like I said, difficult to wholeheartedly recommend.
***
If one takes the novel seriously, the comparisons to Tom Wolfe and Don DeLillo on the front cover are not unreasonable. In a way, this is the anti-Underworld, and also vaguely predicts 9/11, and includes Semtex as a plot device. Many historical figures are depicted, but DeLillo's work is more realist than fabulist.
It's not a spoiler to say that Victor gets involved in international terrorism and espionage, and perhaps its unfair to say the novel becomes more pedestrian once the plot becomes apparent, because that is also when it starts to resemble a "page-turner." This novel took me forever to read this time, months and months. Of course my personal life affected it, but I read it much more quickly in 2004, perhaps because I was anxious to write a novel that could mimic Ellis and get noticed and start an actual career doing something that is ostensibly very exciting and personally rewarding. I guess this time I just didn't care as much, and while it's not like 2023 is vastly different from 2004, it sort of is. In 2004, this was still Ellis's latest work, and many of the celebrities had not shifted in their cultural weight.
Now, Ellis is preparing to release a new novel, and since we have basically covered his entire oeuvre here, it is inevitable that it will show up here soon. (Actually, this novel is coming out in two days--I swear this wasn't planned!) Ellis has been "problematic" for about 30 years, but White revealed him to be problematic in the "woke-era," and so it will be interesting to see how "controversial" people consider The Shards.
Is Glamorama his best novel? No, in this critic's opinion, that is still Less Than Zero, much as I'd like to say this is his best. I wanted to like the novel more. Frankly, it annoyed me a bit this time around. I didn't care as much. I even remember liking Part 2 (the whole cruise ship voyage) much better the first time. Once the plot kicked in (I said 200 pages above, but it's probably around page 400 that you have a better idea of what's going on---though again, Part 6 of the book also tears down that understanding), I plowed through more of it, but I couldn't love any real element of it beyond the semi-autobiography and literary experimentation. I love the bold swings it takes, I admire them, but it only briefly felt satisfying, and in those moments I wanted to care most about the characters, they are revealed to be just another part of the film that is geared towards getting an emotional response out of the reader/viewer.
I wanted to excerpt a passage that illustrates this, and I wanted to mention the use of "Champagne Supernova" in the novel and question whether Paul Weller really is a contributor to that track, but instead will just say that I appreciate Ellis for opening up that curiosity, and feel it is appropriate to post this now, because we do care a little bit about remaining relevant here, even when there are six months between reviews. And yes: this should still be made into a movie, but now it will have to be a period piece--and that's not a bad thing for this author.
