Beemouse Laboratories

I just finished reading Bret Easton Ellis’ first novel, “Less Than Zero”.

I’ve read three of his other novels– “American Psycho”, “Glamorama”, and “Lunar Park”. I did not like “Lunar Park” so much, but “American Psycho” and “Glamorama” were very good. They are absolutely insane and surreal. If you have experienced profound derealization and/or depersonalization in your life, you will find yourself washed back into those feelings. (At least, I did.)

“Less Than Zero” could be a vignette from “Glamorama”, an expansion of the mood, with less plot. It’s less strong than Ellis’ later books, and less funny. (In fact, it’s not funny at all.) While I was reading it, I was thinking, “What’s the big deal?” (which is a terrifying thing to find yourself thinking while reading any of his books). Then I checked the publication date and it is 1985.

1985! I was 6 years old! I bet people crapped their pants and made a big stink when this book was published! It probably shocked the hell out of everyone (except the profoundly depersonalized, who maybe nodded to themselves quietly).

It’s always comforting to read Ellis’ books and know that someone else can articulate what it is like to be so very, very alone that you actually feel like an intruder on the planet, an alien. Everything small thing seems strange, and the big things seem small, and he is able to describe the sensation of an anxiety thick enough to drown you.

Here are some excerpts I liked from “Less Than Zero”:

   There’s a large dog at Blair’s feet and I lean down and stroke the dog’s head. Kim comes out of the bathroom, takes a drag off the cigarette Blair was smoking and then throws it on the floor. She turns the stereo back up, some Prince song.
   “Jesus, Clay, you look like you’re on acid or something,” Blair says, lighting another cigarette.
   “I just had dinner with my mother,” I tell her.
   The dog puts the cigarette out with its paw and then eats it.

   When it got really dark the nights would be black and hot and on some nights these weird white clouds would drift slowly through the sky and disappear by dawn. It would also be quiet. It was strange to drive down 110 at one or two in the morning. There wouldn’t be any cars out, and if I stopped by the side of the road and turned the radio off and rolled down the windows, I couldn’t hear anything. Only my own breath, which was all raspy and dry and came in uneven gasps. But I wouldn’t do this for long, because I’d catch a glimpse of my eyes in the rearview mirror, sockets red, scared, and I’d get really frightened for some reason and drive home quickly.

…”Hair looks good,” [Trent] tells Ronnette.
   “Did it myself. I had this dream, see, where I saw the whole world melt. I was standing on La Cienega and from there I could see the whole world and it was melting and it was just so strong and realistic like. And so I thought, Well, if this dream comes true, how can I stop it, you know?”
   I’m nodding my head.
   “How can I change things, you know? So I thought if I, like, pierced my ear or something, like alter my physical image, dye my hair, the world wouldn’t melt. So I dyed my hair and this pink lasts. I like it. It lasts. I don’t think the world is going to melt anymore.”

Moon over Aurora Bridge, 2007 (For sale)