Are we at Peak Humanity now?
- Thread starter 2004typer
- Start date
You're seriously underestimating how bad things can get.
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Caporegime
- Joined
- 29 Aug 2007
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- 28,732
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- Auckland
You're all Bateman but in denial. But not me.
Analysis
It would appear Bateman is now seeing Jean socially on a regular basis. In the early chapters of the novel, he began cheating on Evelyn with her friend Courtney. In "New Club" he notes that he asked their companion for her number while Evelyn was away from the table that evening. In this chapter, readers can recognize the pattern beginning again. However, unlike Courtney, this woman seemed uninterested in Bateman. Readers should also remember that when he first introduced Jean, Bateman said he would "probably end up marrying" her. This chapter ends with him taking her back to his apartment, which indicates their relationship has progressed in that direction over the course of the novel. Yet Bateman has addressed their growing closeness only a very few times. He keeps Jean separate from his darker obsessions. This suggests that much of Bateman's real day-to-day existence has been left out of his narrative.
In "New Club" and "Taxi Driver," Bateman is confronted with people who cause him stress and panic. Carnes challenges Bateman's sense of identity by failing to recognize his true nature. He addresses him by the wrong name several times and thinks his confession was a joke. Not recognizing Bateman, he talks about him as an "ass-kisser" and a "goody-goody." He says Evelyn dumped Bateman and that Bateman could not even pick up a prostitute, let alone kill one. The reader may suspect Carnes is correct about Bateman, and all the violence and sex has been Bateman's fantasy. There have been clues throughout that he is truly an insecure man, maybe with homosexual longings he is ashamed of. He may fantasize a more masculine version of himself to compensate.
In some ways the encounter with Abdullah is the opposite experience. While Carnes gets Bateman's identity all wrong, calling him by different names, Abdullah says he recognizes him. It is not clear that he has the right man. After all, he claims Bateman's face "is on a wanted poster downtown," but this is unlikely since no one else has actually recognized Bateman from the poster. Still, it doesn't really matter if this is another case of mistaken identity. No one else has even claimed to know who Bateman is in the novel. Yet Abdullah—whether or not Bateman killed "Solly"—seems to see the person Bateman believes himself to be: a killer.
This brief moment of being "seen" is erased, however, by Abdullah's complete lack of concern over Bateman's threats. He leaves Bateman in tears, reduced to babbling "baby talk." When the homeless woman appears, Bateman is incapable of attacking her either verbally or physically. All he can do is ask her to leave him alone. Instead, she attacks him verbally by telling him to get a haircut. Just as in his conversation with Evelyn on their last date, mentioning his hairstyle reignites all Bateman's insecurities. This shows what a thin line there is between his internal and external realities.
The novel ends in a final chapter that mirrors the first, but not exactly. It is more like a carnival mirror image—distorted. Bateman goes out with friends in much the same way he did at the beginning of the novel. Among them is Tim Price. Price, however, is a different man. At the start of the book, Price talked constantly, ignoring the people around him. At the end, he is largely quiet, and his conversation no longer centers on his own concerns. He talks about politics and wants to know Bateman's thoughts. Bateman, however, is also different; he is distracted and unable to focus on the conversation. Whereas earlier in the novel he could talk about a variety of topics at length, he seems almost unable to contribute complete sentences. He can't answer Price's questions coherently. He loses track of who is speaking and what is being spoken about. At one point, he tells readers, "I think it's me who says, 'I have to return some videotapes.'" It's likely he is the one who says it, because the statement is unrelated to the conversation. Yet readers realize he is experiencing dissociation—a disconnect between his thoughts, actions, and sense of self. Bateman also seems to have given up worrying about his violent compulsions. This is just the way he is. He claims to take it in stride and live life as it presents itself. However, readers suspect he has no choice about this. He has lost control. The final line is not just a notice that that door cannot be used to escape in case of a fire. It is a reminder that Bateman entered hell in the first line of the novel, when he saw the "blood red" graffito "ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE." In the course of the novel, he has not exited. Nor will he. There is no exit.
Analysis
It would appear Bateman is now seeing Jean socially on a regular basis. In the early chapters of the novel, he began cheating on Evelyn with her friend Courtney. In "New Club" he notes that he asked their companion for her number while Evelyn was away from the table that evening. In this chapter, readers can recognize the pattern beginning again. However, unlike Courtney, this woman seemed uninterested in Bateman. Readers should also remember that when he first introduced Jean, Bateman said he would "probably end up marrying" her. This chapter ends with him taking her back to his apartment, which indicates their relationship has progressed in that direction over the course of the novel. Yet Bateman has addressed their growing closeness only a very few times. He keeps Jean separate from his darker obsessions. This suggests that much of Bateman's real day-to-day existence has been left out of his narrative.
In "New Club" and "Taxi Driver," Bateman is confronted with people who cause him stress and panic. Carnes challenges Bateman's sense of identity by failing to recognize his true nature. He addresses him by the wrong name several times and thinks his confession was a joke. Not recognizing Bateman, he talks about him as an "ass-kisser" and a "goody-goody." He says Evelyn dumped Bateman and that Bateman could not even pick up a prostitute, let alone kill one. The reader may suspect Carnes is correct about Bateman, and all the violence and sex has been Bateman's fantasy. There have been clues throughout that he is truly an insecure man, maybe with homosexual longings he is ashamed of. He may fantasize a more masculine version of himself to compensate.
In some ways the encounter with Abdullah is the opposite experience. While Carnes gets Bateman's identity all wrong, calling him by different names, Abdullah says he recognizes him. It is not clear that he has the right man. After all, he claims Bateman's face "is on a wanted poster downtown," but this is unlikely since no one else has actually recognized Bateman from the poster. Still, it doesn't really matter if this is another case of mistaken identity. No one else has even claimed to know who Bateman is in the novel. Yet Abdullah—whether or not Bateman killed "Solly"—seems to see the person Bateman believes himself to be: a killer.
This brief moment of being "seen" is erased, however, by Abdullah's complete lack of concern over Bateman's threats. He leaves Bateman in tears, reduced to babbling "baby talk." When the homeless woman appears, Bateman is incapable of attacking her either verbally or physically. All he can do is ask her to leave him alone. Instead, she attacks him verbally by telling him to get a haircut. Just as in his conversation with Evelyn on their last date, mentioning his hairstyle reignites all Bateman's insecurities. This shows what a thin line there is between his internal and external realities.
The novel ends in a final chapter that mirrors the first, but not exactly. It is more like a carnival mirror image—distorted. Bateman goes out with friends in much the same way he did at the beginning of the novel. Among them is Tim Price. Price, however, is a different man. At the start of the book, Price talked constantly, ignoring the people around him. At the end, he is largely quiet, and his conversation no longer centers on his own concerns. He talks about politics and wants to know Bateman's thoughts. Bateman, however, is also different; he is distracted and unable to focus on the conversation. Whereas earlier in the novel he could talk about a variety of topics at length, he seems almost unable to contribute complete sentences. He can't answer Price's questions coherently. He loses track of who is speaking and what is being spoken about. At one point, he tells readers, "I think it's me who says, 'I have to return some videotapes.'" It's likely he is the one who says it, because the statement is unrelated to the conversation. Yet readers realize he is experiencing dissociation—a disconnect between his thoughts, actions, and sense of self. Bateman also seems to have given up worrying about his violent compulsions. This is just the way he is. He claims to take it in stride and live life as it presents itself. However, readers suspect he has no choice about this. He has lost control. The final line is not just a notice that that door cannot be used to escape in case of a fire. It is a reminder that Bateman entered hell in the first line of the novel, when he saw the "blood red" graffito "ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE." In the course of the novel, he has not exited. Nor will he. There is no exit.
His Doppleganger-fascination with American Psycho ruptures into that Elysian rapture occasionally. It's that time of the year.
E. Of course it's pointless to state the advice above the Bind (abandon all hope you who enter here) was just that - a recommendation to quit hoping and Act instead. So obvious, unseen then as now.
Deleted User 298457
Deleted User 298457
You're both forgetting how bad things were. It wasn't that long ago half the population was down a pit and had a life expectancy of under 40. Oh, and the Jews were being exterminated. And that's only recent history.
Yes, it's good that nowadays we wouldn't allow anything like concentration camps, unless of course the oppressors are important business partners like China.
Permabanned
- Joined
- 11 Feb 2011
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- 2,136
Peak humanity is when we all become vegetables plugged into the Matrix. Something like Real Player One, or that Star Trek themed Black Mirror episode.
Deleted User 298457
Deleted User 298457
The fact we are even aware of such atrocities is a sign that things are distinctly better than they were.
Is it? I'm not sure the fact that we're aware and do absolutely bugger all to stop it is anything to be proud of at all. We can't even plead ignorance as a defence.
Deleted User 298457
Deleted User 298457
Your final point is why so many older folk think fondly of the good old days. It also why mental health is probably on the decline in recent years as people have to contend with so much misery being broadcast to us, and even our safe spaces are now political melting pots (OCUK, social media, main stream media).
Ignorance is certainly not bliss, but dealing with the fact you have very little say or influence over such tragedies can also be pretty upsetting.
Sure... I think I made my point though and you don't seem to be refuting it really. Being aware of atrocities is not better than being ignorant if you choose to be complicit in them (i.e. by doing business with the perpetrator) - it's almost definitely worse. If I were locked up in a concentration camp I would rather hold out hope that the outside world would find out what happened and step in, rather than know that they already know and have chosen to overlook it and then say that the world has moved on from such things. So your original point that we've moved on and improved since events such as the Holocaust is false.
Nah you missed it. The 70's was where it was at. Kind of the peaking of the 1960's revolution, the music was great, it was easy and cheap to see top bands starting with the Isle of Wight festival in 1970 for under a fiver ticket price. Beer was good and again reasonably priced. Evenings out were with friends down the pub and a curry after. Nobody needed a mobile phone to stay in touch. People were usually nice to each other although an odd fight after hours was an occurrence. Even though there was not a lot of money around there was no worry about being scammed for your life savings by some Nigerian prince. Clothes were good if unusual at times. Television was pretty rubbish but then that has never reached peak anything except ****.
Yes the 1970's were it, starting when I became 18 ending when I was 28 years old.
Soldato
- Joined
- 22 Nov 2007
- Posts
- 4,277
But none of my favourite bands were around in the 70s 
Deleted User 298457
Deleted User 298457
Get a grip. How can you say that we haven't improved since the holocaust? What a silly point to say out loud.
I'm sure the Uighur Muslim community will be reassured.
Deleted User 298457
Deleted User 298457
You are comparing the extermination of six million human beings to the 1 million Uyghur being socially cleansed? Both are absolutely disgusting atrocities but not at all comparable. To say we have not improved since the holocaust is quite honestly a shocking statement to make.