by Crissa-Jean Chappell
In 1991, celebrity novelist Bret Easton Ellis schemed to kick-start his withering career with a little book called American Psycho. It concerned a callow Wall Street trader in the gold-plated decade of greed. He named his Armani-clad antihero Bateman after Psycho's Norman Bates and set him on a string of misogynist killings--each more viscous than the last--and perhaps just a figment of his character's poisoned psyche.
Go to the review