Psycho and the City

As part of my horror-binge, amongst documentaries on Jeffrey Dahmer, Aileen Wuornos and countless gore films, I (tried to) read American Psycho. I was not prepared.

Ask yourself what you know about the 1991, 400 page, Bret Easton-Ellis novel. You'd probably answer that it's set in the 80s, that Christian Bale stars in the film adaption, and you could probably guess it's set in New York.

What you won't guess is that some passages will mentally scare.

Easton-Ellis' prose is so good, so accurate, so sterile and smart, that the emotionless actions performed by Patrick Bateman - the 'American psycho' - are terrifying. I'm not sure if an e-reader would survive in the freezer circa Joey but I was close to finding out.

The truth is I've never been so nervous reading anything in public. It's not just the graphic pornographic descriptions, it's the violence. Horror and gore don't quite cut it. Bateman's actions are beyond shocking. And make the reader realise quite how desensitised they've become to the term "psycho".

Which is why it took me the best part of two months to read. The sheer intensity was something you can't be prepared for. Don't get me wrong, I like horror films, but generally they take up only two hours of your life, and you don't often watch them alone. The pages upon pages of torture are more than difficult to read, making you think: Perhaps if I stop reading these horrible things will keep happening?

Bateman's treatment of women is beyond vulgar. He's your typical self-obsessed 'yuppie', ignoring them, thinking he's better, treating them badly in the regular way. And then it gets worse. He drugs them, tortures them, and murders them. At one point he bites off a body part I wasn't aware could be bitten off.

But it's not just women. It's the homeless of New York, the non-white cab drivers, anyone who isn't a white American male. Some of the abuse he gives to the homeless characters is eye-watering. And the stereotype is only reinforced through his idolisation of Donald Trump and essays on Phil Collins.

It's not often I read a well-written book that I wouldn't recommend. But unless you're prepared for some serious non-linear porn and brutality - interspersed with essays on the hits of Genesis and Madonna - then, go for it.