DISAPPEAR HERE: A Reader's Guide to Bret Easton Ellis

An in-depth guide to every book by one of my favorite authors

You have probably heard of Bret Easton Ellis. If you haven’t, you’ve certainly heard of his work. He’s the author of seven novels, a collection of short stories, and a work of non-fiction. He’s a screenwriter and a podcaster. You are most likely familiar with his novel American Psycho, or at least the 2000 film adaptation starring Christian Bale. At the very least, you’ve probably heard of the character Patrick Bateman.

Bret’s high school photo, and his author photo. Iconic.

If you know even a little bit about Bret Easton Ellis, you probably also know that he has earned himself a reputation over the years — some amalgamation of notoriety mixed with obsession mixed with disgust. Because of these and other things, I find Ellis fascinating as a public figure and have done many a deep dive into his lore. He wrote his first book in college. He was a part of the literary Brat Pack. He’s close with the very private Donna Tartt (they have books dedicated to one another). He used to hang out with Quintana Roo Dunne. American Psycho was originally dropped by Simon and Schuster just three short months before publication. All of these gossipy little tidbits only fan the flames of my intrigue, I’ll cop to that.

But my fascination goes beyond the Page Six headline-esque shit. When I connect with an author’s work in some way or another, I always want to know more about the author themselves. I want to hear them talk about their work, the process, the motivations, the things that shaped them into the artists they are today. Whenever a book blows my mind, I seek deeper understanding in the author themselves, which is how I came to be so Bret-pilled.

I have found, in my limited scope of book reading, that the reading of Bret Easton Ellis is a singular experience. He has an approach, a voice, a style that is, truly, often imitated, never duplicated. Reading his books always has a visceral, lasting effect on me. Reading Bret is one of the reading experiences I relish and return to.

Ellis is a polarizing figure, and so is his writing. His books are typically venerated or loathed entirely — there’s not a ton of in between. He’s often referred to as a “transgressive” author, and his critics call him problematic, misogynistic, tasteless, and needlessly violent. I don’t think his work is perfect; of course it isn’t. But I’d argue that “problematic” is often a lazy take, and that writing misogynistic characters doesn’t make you a misogynist, it makes you realistic. We live in a world of needless violence, so it’s hard to really be taken seriously when you say a book is too violent. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Whether you’ve read some of his stuff and loved it, read some of his stuff and hated it, or haven’t read any of his stuff at all, this piece is for you. Here, I’m categorizing and reviewing the Bret Easton Ellis oeuvre, with some hot takes and hearsay mixed in.

My hope is that this guide will elucidate what I find so compelling about his work and about him as a person. I’ll be the first to admit that his writing is not for everyone, and that’s fine. Not everyone has to like everything. But I’m hoping I’ll make you curious enough to give his books a try and form your own opinion, or at least add a facet to your already-formed point of view. For your consideration, then:

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The ‘Must Reads’

Every author has their canon. These are the books that, if you’re interested in understanding what Ellis is about as an author, are where you should start. If you’re not planning on reading a ton of his work, but want to dabble, these are the books where Ellis is at his best; his most classic and quintessential, his most true-to-form. His style, humor, horror, and worldview are best captured in these books, which is probably why they’re his best-known.

Less Than Zero (1985)

I still remember how I felt reading Less Than Zero for the first time; the twist in my guts, the sweaty grip of my palms on the flimsy book jacket, the stunned horror at what unfurled on its pages — the kind of visceral sentiment you want to bottle up and uncork every handful of years for a few quick whiffs of that sweet sweet nostalgia. This was years ago, either during or post-college, and I had never read anything like it. It made me sick to my stomach, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted more.

Less Than Zero is one of my favorite books and one of the scant few books I’ve read multiple times. Our main character is Clay, and the novel follows him and his burnout friends through their hometown of Los Angeles, where they are all home over the holiday break after their first year of college. The plot is as listless as its characters, who are apathetic, amoral, and disinterested in anything except for driving around, going to restaurants and parties, getting fucked up, having sex, and exploring acts of brutality. They are jaded rich kids who have everything and are affected by nothing. They let their lives slide by like sand through their fingers. They show no regard for human suffering. For some of them, human suffering is the only thing that makes them feel anything at all.

This book fascinates me for a few reasons. One is that Ellis wrote early drafts of the novel in high school and college, ultimately publishing it at age 21, when he was still a student at Bennington College. That’s impressively young to write a literary blockbuster. He insists that it is fiction, but it’s hard not to wonder if there aren’t personal elements stitched throughout.

It’s also the book that made him famous as hell. It was a controversial novel that came to be 80s iconography – and catapulted him to a level of stardom previously unknown to authors. The Literary Brat Pack was a group of authors, of which Bret was a member, who, at the time, enjoyed the same perks of fame that are reserved for movie stars today. It delights me to think of authors at the Oscars, authors enjoying VIP treatment at the club, authors stumbling and spilling champagne at fancy events, wearing sunglasses indoors – iconic.

This was my first foray into a style of writing that I hadn’t previously experienced. Detached, numb, nihilistic. It was up to you to read between the lines and see the humanity in the characters, if there was any to be found. I learned Ellis was heavily influenced by Joan Didion. I loved the notion of writers who seem so disparate drawing from one another, and it made me look for more of her in his work. I do feel there’s a strange sort of parallel running between their writing — I’d be curious if readers of Didion and Ellis feel the same.

This book is the perfect entry point to the Bret Easton Ellis cinematic universe, and it’s always the first one I recommend when someone hasn’t read any Bret before. If you like Less Than Zero, then proceed with more Bret. If you don’t like Less Than Zero, well, he might just not be for you.

American Psycho (1991)

American Psycho, more like an American classic! You know it, your mom knows it, your grandma probably knows it if she’s nasty. This is Ellis’s third book, though it is his best-selling and most notorious. It was dropped by its would-be publisher just weeks before publication, which, of course, added to its intrigue. It was panned by the NYT (lol) and widely controversial, with some lauding it as a sharp work of satire and others condemning its brutal violence and misogyny.

Crack the spine of American Psycho and meet our narrator, our hero, our villain: Patrick Bateman. He’s a wealthy 26-year-old who works in finance in New York City; a yuppie who is consumed by his preoccupation with perfect appearance, from the clothes he wears to his body to his hair to where he eats dinner to his business cards, Bateman is uber-focused on every minute detail of the presentation of his person, hyperfixted on the material aspects of things due to his desperation to fit in.

And perhaps that desperation is driven by the fact that Bateman is a murderous, cannibalistic psychopath who is devoid of anything resembling a human spirit. His squeaky-clean, uncanny-valley exterior is a mask for the bloodlust for carnage he harbors within. The book follows Bateman through his life, as he moves through his circles of finance-bros, high-profile parties, and dates hot women in broad daylight. But in the shadows is where he commits his heinous crimes— kidnapping and murdering prostitutes, plucking out the eyes of homeless people, chopping up his coworkers— you get the idea. Bateman soundlessly and smoothly engineers his existence to look and seem like everyone else, concealing the monster within through designer digs and a pretty face.

And that’s just it— the horror, the comedy of American Psycho — that this maniac fits in perfectly with the Wall Street yuppies. No one suspects him of anything at all, other than, well, sort of just being a limp-dick tool. It’s a clever critique of capitalism, overconsumption, and vapidity. What are you willing to ignore if a person simply looks the part? Patrick Bateman is insane, there’s no doubt about that. But the question for the reader at the core of the book is whether or not he’s really a murderer, or if all of this is a sick fantasy taking place in his head. What do you think?

The Extended Syllabus

Consider this section to be “Bret Easton Ellis 102”. You’ve graduated from the introductory course and are ready for the next course. The books in this category are not the first things I would read by Ellis, perhaps because I don’t think they’re as good as the first two, but also they’re more enjoyable and interesting once you’re used to Ellis’ style of writing — flat affect, short sentences, and pointed. These books expand on the foundational works and are fun because there’s some character crossover, too.

The Rules of Attraction (1987)

Ellis’ second book is a campus novel that is based heavily on his time at Bennington College. There is so much to say about his experience at Bennington — a tiny, honestly weird liberal arts school in Vermont. It was one of those places that, like, didn’t do grades, or whatever. Bret attended Bennington at the same time as Donna Tartt and Jonathan Lethem, among others, but if you want more of the real-life tea, you should absolutely listen to the Podcast “Once Upon a Time at Bennington College,” which is fucking excellent, and talks about the specific time these high-profile authors all were on campus together. But I digress…

The Rules of Attraction is told from the viewpoints of three students at Camden College who are all connected by way of a sloppy, semi-love triangle. There’s Paul, Sean, and Lauren. Lauren and Sean are dating; Paul is hooking up with Sean; Sean basically denies it; and Lauren and Paul used to date. Each of them has a distinct view of the events, leaving the reader to decide who, if anyone, is the reliable narrator. But then again, is anyone in college a reliable narrator?

The fun of this novel, at least for me, is its similarities to Bret’s own undergraduate experience; another instance of him dabbling with autofiction, if not quite crossing over the line. There are also easter eggs hidden throughout, including a reference to Tartt’s book The Secret History, and it’s made clear that Sean’s full name is Sean Bateman, and that he’s the younger brother of one New York City yuppie, Patrick Bateman. Obsessed.

It’s also worth noting that this novel is less violent than many of Bret’s other works, and therefore might be a better fit for the squeamish among us. But it’s still a darkly funny, drug-fueled spin with a good amount of sex and apathy, in textbook Bret fashion. I liked this on first read, but it didn’t grab me as much as Less Than Zero did. I might need to give it another try, though.

Imperial Bedrooms (2010)

The sequel to Less Than Zero!!! Can you believe? In this novel, published 25 years after Less Than Zero, we return to find our protagonist, Clay, once again coming home to Los Angeles. This time, he’s long past his college days; middle-aged and a screenwriter, in town to cast a movie.

I’ll be honest with you — I liked this book, but I remember almost none of it. The book starts with a reference to the movie made about Less Than Zero, with Clay saying, “They made a movie about us.” It’s a now-classic Ellis move, the meta, self-referential thing, and it comes up in a lot of his work. If you’re like me, you find this fun and enjoy being in on it; to 'get the reference. Understandably, others find it hokey and flat. Fair enough.

But back to Imperial Bedrooms. Back in LA, Clay falls in with his old crowd and, as a result, deeper into a spiral of cynicism, disillusionment, and casual violence. Sort of felt Bret just playin’ the hits. The characters Clay, Julian, Trent, and Blair are all accounted for — he got the band back together from his hit novel and is trotting them out for a reunion tour. It’s good, sure. You still know and love the songs. But they certainly don’t sound like they did 25 years ago. All of that being said, I would read this one again. I want to know if I still stand by my initial take, which was a few years ago.

The Shards (2023)

I fuuuuuucking loved this one, my god. This is Ellis’ most recent novel, and it undoubtedly plays to his strengths: set in LA, sexy teenage protagonists, apathy, and murder at its center — you’d be inclined to say we’re back at Ellis 101.

And while that’s true in a sense, I do feel that this holds something different than his other books. Perhaps he’s far enough from his childhood to reflect with clearer eyes, or is more comfortable revealing more of himself. This book is autofiction and has been described by Ellis as largely autobiographical.

The book’s main character is Bret Easton Ellis, age 17, a student at a wealthy prep school called Buckley. The novel follows Bret and his friends– Thom, the golden boy quarterback, Debbie, Bret’s rich, gorgeous girlfriend, and Susan, Thom’s girlfriend and a close friend of Bret’s. The characters navigate normal high school things — relationships, parties, drugs, sex. And, like many of Bret's characters, they seem bored with it all. They flirt with danger and violence as a means of stimulation, as their alcoholic, absentee parents turn a blind eye. Until one day, a new student arrives at Buckley. Robert Mallory is gorgeous and charming, almost too perfect. Mallory quickly ingratiates himself, slipping easily into Bret’s friend group, much to Bret’s discomfort. Bret himself has something he’s hiding — and he recognizes that same darkness in Robert Mallory, too.

At the same time, a serial killer called the Trawler has been roaming Los Angeles and is no closer to being caught. As Bret, the character, grapples with his own secrets, his group of friends begins to unravel as the Trawler terrorizes them, drawing them into his orbit and closer to their own destruction.

I loved this book. It’s creepy and compelling; a twisted thriller on its face, but as you pull back the layers (and if you have the Bret context to back it up), it goes far deeper than its glossy veneer. It goes far beyond paranoia and secrecy, lies, and madness; this book is Bret Easton Ellis confronting his youth, stripping back his childhood in all its ugliness and embarrassment, trying to understand himself. Reading this after reading Ellis’ early novels makes his growth as a writer and storyteller apparent, as he uses his old tricks but to greater effect. It’s evident that he’s not just become a better writer and storyteller, but a smarter, more thoughtful one, too. A real pleasure of a read, this one.

The Weird

These are exactly what they sound like. They’re Bret Easton Ellis’ really weird books. Still written in his signature style, but so god damn strange — several of them veering into paranormal territory. I have mixed feelings about these. You’ll see what I mean.

The Informers (1994)

Loved the first half of this, hated the second. The structure was weird. I thought it was a novel, but I guess it’s a collection of closely linked short stories? Anyways, the first half is great, felt like returning to an old friend. The second half veers into, spoiler alert, vampires??? I know, I was shocked too. Had to look it up to make sure I wasn’t completely misinterpreting things, but no, it was vampires lol. I like weird stuff, to be sure, and I’m willing to suspend disbelief, but this just wasn’t for me. Still, if you’re gonna be an author completionist, you gotta commit to the bit. Would be interested in others’ takes on this if they’ve read it.

Glamorama (1998)

I heard somewhere that this book was the basis for the movie Zoolander. I then later heard that was false, but if you read this book and have seen Zoolander, it makes so much sense and is such a funny concept that I like to believe it’s true. Anyway, my potentially unpopular opinion: I kinda loved this. Feels like the largest departure from Bret’s usual work, and was very funny, very fucking odd, and really, really gross. In other words, 10/10, no notes from me.

The main character is Victor, a very dumb male model, who is opening a club in New York. The club opening quickly devolves into disaster, leading to a paparazzi smear and, somehow, Victor being dragged into an international crime syndicate scheme, all the while he thinks he is filming a reality TV show.

This novel is fucking bizarre and sometimes confusing, but what a ride. It’s not the best book I ever read, but it was really fun to read, and isn’t that what it’s about sometimes?

Lunar Park (2005)

Another book that dabbles in autofiction, this book is “if the author Bret Easton Ellis was straight and moved to the suburbs with his wife and kid,” but throw in some paranormal hauntings. Not bad, necessarily, just not really my thing. I’d encourage people to read it if they’re big fans of Ellis, and I would understand both loving and hating it; it’s that kind of book. I don’t think it’s his best work.

I will say that the first third of this book ranks among the funniest of Ellis’ writing. He makes fun of himself during his early days of authorial fame, depicting his flagrant drug abuse and mortifying promotional events for Glamorama. It’s a sad, inflated, but accurate reflection of his past. While the events he’s describing are rough and embarrassing, Ellis reclaims his story by poking fun, exaggerating, and putting himself on blast. He’s in on it, too.

There are some great parts of this book, but the ending didn’t really work for me; it all sort of spun out. It’s a trip, this book, that’s for sure.

The Unreadable

Look, when you’re this prolific, you’re bound to have your flops. Other readers of Ellis may feel that more of his books belong in this category. As is their right to think so. Fine. For me, this category is complicated. There’s only one book by Ellis that, as I see it, is unreadable— and I haven’t read it. I know, I know — just let me explain.

White, 2019

White is Ellis’ first work of non-fiction; essays that excoriate millennials, denounce cancel culture, and decry liberal sensitivities. Needless to say, it was panned widely and disliked by many. This quote from a review on Bookforum sums up White’s core thesis nicely:

Mostly, Ellis hates social media and wishes millennials would stop whining and “pull on their big boy pants”—an actual quote from this deeply needless book, whose existence one assumes we could have all been spared if Ellis’s millennial boyfriend had simply shown the famous man how to use the mute feature on Twitter.

Hilarious. I haven’t read White, and not because I am afraid of getting my feelings hurt. I haven’t read it because too many people whose opinions I trust — people who are thoughtful, well-read, and eager to be challenged by ideas contrary to their own — have said this book is hot garbage and not worth my time. Damn son! So many books, so little time, and it’s hard to make the decision to read a book that you know is gonna kind of suck?

AND YET. I feel compelled to engage with it. To read the book and make my own assessments. You’ll notice I’ve commented not at all about the content of the book and how I personally feel about it, and that is intentional. Commentary is a privilege, and analysis requires data, not speculation. I’ll read before I put my comments where my mouth is, or whatever.

I don’t know if I’ll read this. Sometimes I really think I will. Others, I decide I’m never going to. I’ve gone back and forth. If I’m still thinking about it, I probably will read it. Someday…

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There you have it, folks: every book by Bret Easton Ellis, reviewed (ish) and categorized, with my own suggestions and thoughts on which to prioritize. I am dying to know what you all think of Ellis and which of his books you have read. Love him? Hate him? Please tell me in the comments. Thank you, as always, for reading. It means a lot.

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