THIS IS NOT AN EXIT

Today I handed my dissertation in:

‘THIS IS NOT AN EXIT’

An exploration of the themes of gender, alienation and consumer culture in Blank Fiction texts American Psycho, Fight Club and Generation X.

A Research Project presented as part of the requirement for the degree of B.A. (Hons) English Literature (Specialist).

For the past few weeks, almost my entire life has existed around that essay. Around American Psycho and Fight Club and Generation X and gender and consumerism and alienation. Knowing that I will never again have to flip through Generation X attempting to find a fitting quote as to why the novel promotes the idea of escape from a consumerist society is the most major relief. But whilst actually having the 51-page essay bound and handed in was terrifying - it signifies a very near end to my course and also a huge chunk of my final mark so if I did poorly it's going to really pull my mark down - it was also one of the most gratifying things I have ever experienced. To have laboured over something and thought about something for so long and to finally have it there, finished, in front of you, was an oddly touching moment for me. Kind of pathetic, I know, but the topic I wrote on was something I really cared for and felt strongly about so it meant a lot to me. Fingers crossed now that the pain and (literally) sleepless nights and unpaid days from work and back ache from carrying sacks of books to and from the library and possible soul-poisoning from staring at my laptop for so many hours on end will all be worth it (and gets me at least a 2:1).

Weekly Review: 1st - 7th November

I haven't done one of these for the past couple of weeks because I have been busy doing boring things, like sorting my life out. I have basically spent the past two weeks organising meetings with various university tutors/careers advisors to try and get some semblance of organisation into my life, and the rest of the time I have been writing essays, researching dissertation material and swapping jobs (don't even go there. The fuckers). Not exactly blog-worthy stuff. And while this week hasn't in any way more interesting, I have got a few film and book recommendations for anyone interested.

MUSIC THIS WEEK

This week I've been listening to a lot of softer stuff, particularly John Mayer's most recent album Battle Studies, and sundirtwater by The Waifs. I know John Mayer gets a lot of bad press because he is a bit of a dickhead, but his music is beautiful and his voice makes my spine melt a bit. I don't know anything about The Waifs other than that they are an Australian band; a friend recommended the album to me because he's had it on repeat for a while now, and I fell in love. It is sort of deep south dirty folk music; when you listen to it you want to be sat around a campfire by the Mississippi river or something.

FILM THIS WEEK

You have probably established from my quite frequent mentions of him recently that I have developed a bit of a thing for Andrew Garfield. I actually think it is his fault for being so adorable in The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. How was I not supposed to watch every other film he's ever been in after that? Siobhan at Listerine Kiss recommended that I watch The Red Riding Trilogy with Andrew in, and so I did. If you haven't seen it, I cannot recommend it enough. I have only watched the first part so far, but it's fantastic. Lots of delicious Yorkshire accents (holla!), lots of wide shots of the Yorkshire Moors, lots of Andrew Garfield without his shirt on...it is a lot like the dreams I have. I can even deal with those mad sideburns and even madder flares he has to sport.
I then went for Boy A, which, er, perhaps wasn't the greatest decision I have ever made. He plays a reformed child murderer, so he's kind of hard to love in that, but it's a wicked film. Very sad, intimate and depressing, but still good. I think he's a quite wonderful actor. My favourite thing he's ever done though is this:



On Saturday night I went to see Due Date at the cinema. It was fantastic. Robert Downey Jr is perfection, AND he actually looks tall in this film! Zach Gallifkakakakaiisskaisisksksis must be really, really short if he makes Rob DJ look tall. It isn't as funny as The Hangover (although you can definitely tell it's by the same director) but it's still excellent. I highly recommend it to any non-serious cinema-goers out there.

BOOKS THIS WEEK

I'm constantly stuck in American Psycho at the moment - I'm writing about it in my dissertation - so I'm feeling a bit messed up on the literature front, but I did manage to sneak in an absolutely incredible book that I found in the kitchen at work. The Light of Falling Stars by J. Robert Lennon is a novel about a plane crash and the way that it affects a group of people's lives, and also how each of their lives gets intertwined with one another's. It is a beautiful book; heartbreaking in parts, but if you have read The Time Traveller's Wife as many times as I have, you won't have a problem with it.

The book I'm reading at the moment is one that a woman at work lent to me called A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. Has anyone else read this? I've just past the halfway point and I am loving it; it is so rare to find characters in novels that actually talk like real people, but this book nails it. It's so funny and so odd at the same time. It's very difficult to explain the plot because it's so weird, but it's basically about this kid, John, and his best friend Owen Meany, who appears to be some kind of genius prophet and voice of the Lord. Or something. I'll let you know when I finish it, but so far it is spectacular.

Oh my God. BRET.

Oh my God. Bret Easton Ellis is doing a book signing. In England. In England. In a place that I can actually get to. My God. I am going to meet Bret Easton Ellis. I am actually going to be in his presence. My hands are shaking.

I discovered this little piece of information this morning, after I had all but given up hope that he was going to come here. He is doing a book reading in Nottingham, and a signing in London, and I think I would prefer to go to the signing. At least that way I definitely get to meet him. I love him. Oh my goodness!

I am so excited that I am having a bit of trouble breathing.

"Action Unites. Words Divide."

I finally finished Glamorama, by Bret Easton Ellis. It was absolutely...pointless. I adored it, I really did. It was classic Ellis: gripping, hilarious, truly nauseating at times, and absolutely beautifully written, but there was no ending.

Usually I hate novels like Ellis writes; pretentious books written to be analyzed and criticised. But he writes them in such a charming and (I hate the word, but) edgy way, and with such flourishes of complete and utter genius that I fall in love every time. Glamorama was entirely as funny and sarcastic as his previous novels that I have read, and (quite surprisingly) there was a semblance of a plot in there, rather than just a series of events occurring and interlapping. It would have been a novel of literary perfection if only the end had not been so frustrating.

Despite the fact that he's an absolute wimp, I like Victor Ward/Johnson, the leading protagonist. There was slightly more inside him to connect to than with say Clay in Less Than Zero (although incidentally I adore him, too). Victor is funny. You forgive him his ridiculous vanity and culture obsessions because he seems so unaware. And when he realises that everything he lives for is bullshit, he tries to move on. So yeah, I sort of became attached to him. I wanted an ending. I wanted answers.

But no. Ellis doesn't write to give answers. He doesn't even write towards an answer. There seems to be no logical conclusion to his writing. I suspect that this is part of his genius; it really leaves you craving more. I cannot decide whether Ellis writes for his characters or for the story. Possibly both. Probably neither.

Glamorama is an exceptional book. It is, I think, a very honest novel (particularly when you consider the circles that Ellis himself has spent time in). I'm almost sad that I've finished it because I enjoyed reading it so much (despite the constant headache I had from frowning so much in confusion).

So if you want to see where they blatantly stole the idea for Zoolander from, read it. If you want something to really think about, read it. If you want a novel with clues and answers and a nice round ending, go and read Harry Potter, you pussy.



A few of my favourite Glamorama quotes:

- Even though we've never met she looks eerily familiar, as if we've known her forever.

- "JD, I'm in the middle of becoming some kind of brooding god," I groan.

- "Hey baby, we're all in this together," I grunt, my hands dusted with chalk. "Yeah, I wanna give this all up and feed the homeless. I wanna give all this up and teach orangutans sign language. I'm gonna bike around the countryside with my sketchbook. I'm gonna - what? Help improve race relations in this country? Run for fucking president? Read my lips: Spare me."

- "Dad, life is tacky."

- "Everyone here is just...so...dead."

- ...and above me the morning sky is white and I'm thinking. Stay indoors, go to sleep, don't get involved, view everything without expression, drink whiskey, pose, accept.

- Silence, empty and graceless. I'm staring at them, unable to take all this in because of certain details my mind cannot accept, and that lack of importance is spreading and I'm looking at this through a window and it's being boarded up and it's night and no one has said or is going to say who they really are.

"I'm fizzy with excitement"

Yesterday I began reading my fifth Bret Easton Ellis book in the past fortnight, Glamorama. Perhaps I should have read them in published order (his characters often reappear in subsequent novels). So far I have gone through American Psycho, Lunar Park, Less Than Zero and The Informers. American Psycho is, of course, the best, even though large portions of the book are physically nauseating (you try and read a chapter about a woman literally being chewed apart while you're trying to eat your lunch. Unpleasant). It helps that when reading it I can picture Christian Bale (who, incidentally, was utterly perfect for the part).

The thing about Ellis' writing that's so captivating though, is that it's real. Not real in the 'oh yeah, we're all multi-million dollar earning models/actors/Wall Street bastards' sense, but real in the style of the writing. The dialogue is real. If you've never spoken to someone doped up to the eyeballs, maybe you can't imagine how necessary those little ...'s are that Ellis uses. And as corny as it might sound, the pain that Ellis writes into his characters - or, as the case often is, the lack of emotion entirely - is completely visual. It's beautiful.

But the thing that my friend Hayley and I decided was the most perfect thing about Ellis' writing was his use of sarcasm. His books - especially American Psycho and Lunar Park - are brimming with sarcasm. It is, I think, what makes his characters so believable, the same way that Clare and Henry are in (my favourite novel of all time) The Time Traveller's Wife. The conversations they have are written like real conversations, not like book conversations. The language used is how a person would really speak, and that is the mark of a really talented writer.

Hayley has written her own Ellis-loving post on her blog (http://theyhadmadeamovieaboutus.blogspot.com/2010/03/there-is-no-real-me-only-entity.html) which is what inspired me to write mine - I wanted to explain somewhere how much this author has affected me.

Roll on June 2010 and Ellis' new novel, Imperial Bedrooms.