While searching for titles to read recently, I came across a new book by Brett Easton Ellis. Like a lot of people my age, I had read some of his early work. I bailed when he started to get gory with American Psycho. That just didn’t appeal to me at all.
But the new book (Imperial Bedrooms) did because it’s a prequel to his legendary debut Less Than Zero. The concept seemed a little kitschy, but intrigued me enough. I only had one problem.
I can’t remember the last time I read Less Than Zero so I really couldn’t wade into the sequel unprepared. So I pulled my well-worn copy of Ellis’ debut of the shelf and settled into my favorite spot on the porch.
The one thing I realized from re-reading the book is that Ellis simultaneously managed to produce something vapid and ground breaking. I forgot the absurd excess of the characters framed by Ellis’ flowing prose. You could almost feel yourself moving along, herky jerky, with these lost souls.
I need to re-read books like this, books that stirred my imagination as a young writer, more often. I think we all do to stoke the fire of inspiration for both reading and writing.
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