A review by ingalls1969
Imperial Bedrooms by Bret Easton Ellis
1.0
I just finished "Imperial Bedrooms" and I have an overwhelming urge to take a long, hot shower.
Full disclosure: I read Bret Easton Ellis' debut novel, "Less Than Zero," when I was in high school, about a year after it was published. I loved it and feel that its stature as a literary landmark is completely justified.
"Imperial Bedrooms" is a sequel to "Less Than Zero." It's 25 years later, and the college-age main characters from Ellis' book get back together in Los Angeles, where the lead character, Clay - now a successful screenwriter - has temporarily relocated. There he meets up with newly clean-and-sober Julian, the now relatively stable Blair, and creepy, toxic drug dealer Rip, who is now unrecognizable under numerous plastic surgeries.
I don't know where to start. First of all, 25 years later, at a scant 169 pages, this sequel is definitely "too little, too late." Its impact in relation to the first book reminds me of the fourth Die Hard movie. Why now, and why at all? Actually, to answer the second part of that question: I was definitely interested in reading about these characters and what they've been up to. I wouldn't have picked up the book otherwise. But man, was I disappointed.
First of all, I realize that the characters were immoral and depraved the first time around, but Ellis kicks those qualities into overdrive with this book. "Less Than Zero" had its share of grotesque, unpleasant scenes, but here he seems to be doing it just to prove that he can. It's as if he wanted to relive the success of "American Psycho."
In the first book, Clay seems to have at least some minor semblance of morality, but here, he becomes Patrick Bateman's cousin or something. There is nothing even remotely close to a moral compass in this book. I hated every single character.
Forget about the rampant materialism. Forget about the complete lack of anything resembling compassion or altruism. Forget about the constant flow of drink and drugs. These people are just boring and the casual air with which they practice their nihilism is completely uninteresting. The story line - what there is of it - attempts to be some incoherent combination of a love triangle and a murder mystery.
These characters were compelling when they were in college, but they're in their forties now. Now they're just embarrassing caricatures.
I haven't given up on Bret Easton Ellis. But I'm definitely done with Clay, Blair, Julian and Rip.p
Full disclosure: I read Bret Easton Ellis' debut novel, "Less Than Zero," when I was in high school, about a year after it was published. I loved it and feel that its stature as a literary landmark is completely justified.
"Imperial Bedrooms" is a sequel to "Less Than Zero." It's 25 years later, and the college-age main characters from Ellis' book get back together in Los Angeles, where the lead character, Clay - now a successful screenwriter - has temporarily relocated. There he meets up with newly clean-and-sober Julian, the now relatively stable Blair, and creepy, toxic drug dealer Rip, who is now unrecognizable under numerous plastic surgeries.
I don't know where to start. First of all, 25 years later, at a scant 169 pages, this sequel is definitely "too little, too late." Its impact in relation to the first book reminds me of the fourth Die Hard movie. Why now, and why at all? Actually, to answer the second part of that question: I was definitely interested in reading about these characters and what they've been up to. I wouldn't have picked up the book otherwise. But man, was I disappointed.
First of all, I realize that the characters were immoral and depraved the first time around, but Ellis kicks those qualities into overdrive with this book. "Less Than Zero" had its share of grotesque, unpleasant scenes, but here he seems to be doing it just to prove that he can. It's as if he wanted to relive the success of "American Psycho."
In the first book, Clay seems to have at least some minor semblance of morality, but here, he becomes Patrick Bateman's cousin or something. There is nothing even remotely close to a moral compass in this book. I hated every single character.
Forget about the rampant materialism. Forget about the complete lack of anything resembling compassion or altruism. Forget about the constant flow of drink and drugs. These people are just boring and the casual air with which they practice their nihilism is completely uninteresting. The story line - what there is of it - attempts to be some incoherent combination of a love triangle and a murder mystery.
These characters were compelling when they were in college, but they're in their forties now. Now they're just embarrassing caricatures.
I haven't given up on Bret Easton Ellis. But I'm definitely done with Clay, Blair, Julian and Rip.p