My More Literary Work Colleague, mentioned last month when I was plumbing the depths of depression (in terms of books at least), rates Easton Ellis as her favourite contemporary novelist, and on the basis of American Pyscho - a tour de force of such detailed violence and clinical prose, unlike any other book I've ever read - it's hard to argue.
In addition to the author, American Pyscho shares with The Informers the distinction that both books have become feature films, but although the similarities don't end there, the comparison in quality does.
I haven't seen The Informers, the film, but the novel is so vague and lacking in idendity, I have no idea how it was possible. Books are frequently described as 'unfilmable', but I think I would struggle to find one that fits such a description more perfectly.
I should explain. While The Informers is a collection of short stories, they are interconnected. Each chapter has a different first person narrator - it can take five pages or more to work out exactly who each new narrator is, who may appear as a secondary character in other chapter. Each chapter is told from a first person's point of view and charts their vapid life in and around California - a litany of sex, adultery, drugs and dinner engagements.
The chapters are connected to some degree, but because everything is so vague, deliberately so, it's never quite clear who is who (surnames are used sparingingly, for example). This all combines to produce a book that washes over the reader the way the characters themselves exist - for they cannot really be said to be 'living'.
And while you can appreciate the clever way Easton Ellis has produced this effect of meaninglessness, it doesn't really result in a book you can enjoy reading. And that's even before you get to the vampire chapter which suddenly appears near the end...
So, rating time:
#33 The Informers, by Bret Easton Ellis (Random House) - 6/10
Next up: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, by Mark Twain (Penguin Books)
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