Don't quite know what to make of this book. A tedious read at parts, especially with all the brand names and album reviews, though it did very well demonstrate how so banal and robotic life for Bateman was that it drove him to commit acts of total fuckedupness. That it's very well written is not in question; all the run-on sentences were awesome and flowed on to the next clause with a fluidity to be envied. Would I read it again? Probably, but only in disordered chunks.