Less Than Zero

Rating:
Summary: a great book
Review: this was the 4th Ellis book I read and I really wish i read it first. It will help prepare readers who are not used to Ellis's work get used to his writting style. I read Rules of Attraction first which was easy to understand but afterwards I read Glamorama which is a tough book if you are not used to his work and the Informers makes A LOT more sence if you read it after Less Than Zero. This was a very good book that showed how shallow some people are and how even people with "great lives" have some terrible times

Rating:
Summary: sounds a bit like college, only more extreme
Review: This was the first Ellis book I read. I enjoyed it a lot. Ellis is has a unique style, and I'd consider him among the top contemporary authors. Less Than Zero took the college experience, and juiced it up a little. The only problem with the book is that there doesn't seem to have a conclusion, it just ends. Over all, I really enjoyed the book, and would recommend it to those who are somewhat facinated with the so called "drug culture." Bottom line... good book!

Rating:
Summary: in defense of Ellis.
Review: when i read this book i found the central themes and messages hard to miss. ellis seemed to wind up and hit you over the head with them on nearly every page. in light of this, its amazing to me that so many reviewers on this website could completely miss the point of this novel or ellis' art. this novel is in no way a glorification of the dystopia represented in its pages. it is a sharply crafted critique of the society that ellis is a product of.
i think what most inspired me to write this review were the following two statements:
1. "i'm sick of reading books about drugs and sex and all that crap. there's no passion in drugs. i'm looking for something a bit more" - i didnt know if it was possible to, in criticising a book, make the same point that an author was trying to make for two hundred pages...until i read this review. congratulations on reading a two hundred page novel that echos your exact sentiment without ever realizing it.

2. "Reading the book is like watching a car wreck. Or Britney Spears, for that matter, We're shocked that these kids sleep with each other- regardless of sex (GASP)- that they become prostitutes- are ignored by their wealthy parents- indulge in drugs- and our seemingly intelligent narrator seems to take it all in stride. And like Sheldon and Collins, that is the allure- a look into a world most of us will never see. Reading LTZ for any perceived literary value is like claiming to read Playboy for the articles."
- please spare me the pseudo-intellectual posturing. i didnt think it was possible for someone to assert that "The same audience that devours Us magazine will be enthralled by this tale of rich LA teens and their debauchery" when speaking of any work by ellis. is it humanly possible to avoid the force of ellis' argument in such a ridiculously inept way. less than zero is a critique of the very audience you claim "will devour it". i know its fun to make value judgements of other peoples work, but please atleast attempt to understand the novel before doing so. thank you.

there are plenty of critiques that can be made of less than zero. If you have read american psycho or rules of attraction and enjoyed , then you will also enjoy less than zero. it packs just about the same satirical punch (which for some people is a heavy blow...for others hardly any punch at all). Bret Easton Ellis, along with perhaps David Foster Wallace and Toni Morrison , is one of the few authors working today who is recognizable simply by his writing style alone. This, as we have seen, tends to drive some people to make rash judgements regarding the merit of his work. i assure you that if you approach Less than Zero with an open mind, you will not be one of these people.

Rating:
Summary: A dark, smothering, disturbing, downward spiral into hell.
Review: Written in clear, simple, matter-of-fact prose, Less Than Zero, is a chillingly disturbing and hair-raising novel that hones in specifically on L.A.'s edgy, filthy and unrepentant subculture, where booze, drugs, hustling, casual, empty sex, shallow values as well as violence-both physically and visually-are the norm. It is a subculture of pills, plastic surgery, 'laboratory' or 'Frankenstein' created perfection, spiritual vacuousness, fatalistic/lobotomized acceptance or indifference of anything and everything are neatly meshed together with a wad of cash acting as a decorative bow. The novel revolves around Clay, a young man on summer break from college in New Hampshire. Visiting his financially well-to-do family, he decides to 'reconnect' with some of his school friends and girlfriend, Blair-the very latter a brainwashed drone to the excessive frivolities that only L.A. can offer. After getting into the inner sanctum of his friend's lives, Clay gets acclimatized (with the aid of drugs, among other things) to their jaded perceptions and their uppish, arrogant world view of, "This is how it is, man. What planet are you from?" attitude. As time progresses, Clay unwittingly begins to mirror the very people-with all their dangeriously luxuriant excesses-whom he fears and despises. What is even worse is that his family and home life is no refuge either from the dizzying despair that is slowly enveloping him, for his home life is as equally terrible as what he's trying to flee from; his only form of escapism is marijuana, cocaine, sex, partying and booze, all of which temporarily act as a kind of fake portal to the untouched nether reaches (so he believes) of his mind or his soul. But bit by bit, that too slowly gets chipped away at, and what is beyond that is too terrifying to imagine. Clay's only saving grace is a quiet moment of introspection at Topanga Canyon, where, "...I could hear the wind moving through the canyons...A coyote howled...I had been home a long time." (P. 207). Silence was his saving grace, for it forever imprinted upon his mind all that he experienced; it was the catalyst that set him free: "There was a song I heard when I was in Los Angeles by a local group. The song was called "Los Angeles" and the words and images were so harsh and bitter that the song would reverberate in my mind for days. The images, I later found out, were personal and no one I knew shared them. The images I had were of people being driven mad by living in the city. Images of parents who were so hungry and unfulfilled that they ate their own children. Images of people, teenagers my own age, looking up from the asphalt and being blinded by the sun. These images stayed with me even after I left the city. Images so violent and malicious that they seemed to be my only point of reference for a long time afterwards..." (P.208). They say that the globe has many, many war zone. Los Angeles would definitely be included.