Less than zero

I have just finished Bret Easton Ellis' (BEE) Less than Zero. What amazes me is that Less than Zero is 25 years old this year. Previously, I had read Glamorama (see Wednesday, November 08, 2006), Rules of Attraction and Lunar Park, in this order, and seen the film based on American Psycho. His work has been praised and denounced. Little doubt about his ability, much about his morality, is a quick summary. I enjoyed them all, including the least successful Glamorama, which I commented on before. Cynical his work is not. (Should I care if it wasn't? Oh, I don't know. Not sure I care. I should, but don't. It worries me that I don't.) It is set in and around LA. The cast are sons and daughters of Hollywood producers and directors, rich and spoilt. BEE works hard at putting up attrocities of the milder and extreme sorts, from beautiful drugged out teenage boys serving drug dealers to a snuff movie someone has paid $15,000 for showing a naked girl being raped, mutilated (and later presumably killed.) We follow Clay, the protagonist, first apparently as nihilistic as the rest (as far as we know that rest), later at least aware that he is missing something, such as the ability to say that he once loved his beautiful (ex-)girlfriend Blair. It comes to nothing, because his summer break home ends and he returns to his New England college.
The title 'Less than Zero' refers to an Elvis Costello song, off his 'My aim is true' album. Indeed, it is Elvis that serves as the parent, the way he looks at Clay from the Trust promotion poster, or just past him in fact. The lyrics refer to Oswald Mosley, the UK fascist leader, and perversion in general. No direct clues to BEE's morality tale. (Clues? What do you suggest? I am in control here, baby.) Less than zero, meanwhile. Is that indicative of what Clay is about, having realised he was not going anywhere but unable to act and correct, making him arguably less than his oblivious peers rather than more? Or is less than zero to indicate how the emotional or moral climate is 'freezing', a BEE stock word? That is indeed what the phrase in EC's song suggests.

I know little about BEE. I understand he stems from the circles he describes and that he is elusive. He should be. The fact that he puts so much inside knowledge into his body of work, that the protagonist could indeed be himself is part of the mystique of his work. Not to be spoilt by by BEE revealing what is truth and what fiction, what autobio, what borrowed. (I have read quite a few novels that borrow heavily from truth. A trend, perhaps, in these days of reality television etc. I like it. Food for thought of what truth and fiction really is.)

BEE's Imperial Bedroom is just out, to favourable reviews, judging from those that I have read. The book is waiting for me. As I understand, Clay's vague drive to want to escape from the nihilism of his peers has not borne fruit. He has become part of the Hollywood system. I cannot wait to read it. Elvis Costello returns as the provider of the title. Will he play a cameo role again? (Stay with me. I will be back, dude.)

Glamorama

I have just finished reading Glamorama by Bret Easton Ellis (BEE). all nearly 500 pgs. I have to call it a glorious failure; emphasis on glorious. One thing: it is highly sexy at times. It starts off as a satire on the world of clubs, fashion and film, inhabited by model-/actors, popstars etc., their lives fueled by drugs, drink, designer wear and, of course, sex. Our hero, Victor, a model/ actor/ club organiser in NYC, cannot string together one coherent sentence or express any sign of love in his communication with his girlfriend, supermodel Chloe, to save their relationship, meanwhile following his prick to a few other women. Unreality starts setting in when V is confronted with sightings of him at various places he has not been at. When the ground in NYC has become to hot to stand on, he accepts a commission to go to Europe and bring back a woman, who happens to be an old flame of his, though he is almost too thick to remember. Via London, where he meets her, he finds himself in Paris with her and a group of male and female models, who turn out to be model/ terrorists and bring about a number of high profile bombings, whilst making (sexually oriented) snuff movies on the side. Now the story is a thriller. All this brought (as if) in the context of a film that is being made, by a pair of film crews. What is real/ what is film? The end game is where Victor is entirely lost between double-crossing alies/ foes, or is it triple-crossing? His old flame whispers, whilst mortally wounded 'I am not (her supposed name.)' He finds himself stuck, as even his family in the US claim they have sighted him at breakfast that morning. All that: glorious. The 'failure' resides in the question: what is the point BEE is trying to make? It may have been lost in the amply detailed richness of the story.