The Best Kind of Monster is a Human One: The Big Pay-Off



It's hard not to love Patrick Bateman when he looks like a Greek God...

I spent my summer reading books about pyscho killers. And, while some readers might think that the monstrous mind and body can only be found in slasher-horrors with ugly creatures as their central villain, I'm beginning to think that the best kind of monster is a human one. Let me explain...

In "Why We Crave Horror Movies" Stephen King writes that "mythic 'fairy-tale' horror film[s]" often take away "the shades of grey" that complicate everyday morality, so that viewers can see "things in pure blacks and whites" (King 2). Certainly that's true of many slasher films. Particularly when the villain is an ugly, indiscriminating saw-toter.  It's easy to relax and enjoy the simplicity of a true slasher, because they're never overly complex. No one's sad when the monster gets it in the end. Nor is anyone upset when that douchebag who throws his girlfriend in front of the monster to escape gets his. It's all in good fun. People who deserve to "get it," get it. Horrors that feature human monsters aren't so fun. In fact, they make me downright anxious for several reasons.

I read Easton's American Psycho in June. If you've read (or seen) American Psycho, you know that Patrick Bateman, the novel's "protagonist," essentially gets away with murder. He admits all of his disturbing crimes to his lawyer and his lawyer treats it like a joke. But it isn't just the fact that Bateman gets away with murder that complicates matters. It's the fact that Bateman is not completely monstrous. He is a human being who sometimes lets his "uncivilized" side break free. He lives a fairly boring (though luxurious) life that makes him feel like he doesn't have a soul or personality. He feels like a nothing and nobody in a sea of nothings and nobodies. His fears about being nothing are frequently confirmed throughout the entire novel. For instance, Bateman's "friends" and coworkers habitually mistake him for other people. I found the mistaken identity theme strangely funny,  but also depressing.  Additionally, Bateman's conversations with his friends are so boring and shallow ("How should one wear pinstripe pants?") that I started dozing while reading it. I can understand Bateman's frustrations. I have a boring job too. I get exhausted dealing with coworkers who live their lives according to cliched, meaningless sound-bites, like, "When God closes a window, he opens a door," "Believe in yourself," and "Nothing worth having comes easy." Like Bateman, I sometimes wish I could shake things up (uh...in a way that doesn't involve murder in any way). That's the problem with "monsters" like Bateman--they're so human--because they are human.  Sometimes it's tough not to empathize with a human monster, because there's a little slice of humanity that wants to break free and handle social problems as a raging, violent id.

Easton knows that all humanity has a dark side. He makes a point of lulling the reader into a sort of boredom (sometimes Bateman will talk about music or clothes for chapters, for example) so that when Bateman randomly throws in violent sentiments or compulsions, the reader is not only shocked, but also entertained. I was disturbed while reading American Psycho, but it got to the point where I was just waiting for the violence--the "good parts," the "big pay-off." I think to some extent, Nabokov's Lolita works a lot like American Psycho. Essentially, Lolita tells the story of a child-rapist who lies to a little girl so that he can control her completely. Imagine my surprise when I learned that some people (classmates in my undergraduate even) regarded Lolita as a sort of bizarre romance. It's like some readers become complacent in the horrors their reading, not only as stockholmed captives and victims, but also as accomplices, as monsters. That's why I felt so anxious after I read American Psycho...I was cheering for Bateman.  Do you know how disturbing it is to realize that as a feminist, socialist, passivest who abhors the poor treatment of the homeless...I actually liked Bateman?   

Now that is true horror.

How Doth the Little Crocodile...

"How Doth the Little Crocodile" - a crocodile/dragon/mermaid monster by Samantha Massey

About a month ago I received my first rejection letter for law school. It was a short and to-the-point letter informing me that among all those competitive applicants I was decidedly mediocre. I've since learned a competitive GPA, an honours degree, and work experience are not nearly as important as the LSAT. My LSAT score is not competitive. And, I doubt I'll ever write it again. I'm not that interested. I'm not great at writing standardized tests. I'm not sure if I'm really excited about law school anyway. It's the idea of law school that excites me, not the actual schooling.

Despite the fact that I'm fairly certain I'm happy not to be going to law school, I still feel a little empty. My job isn't fulfilling. I've graduated. No more school. I don't have much to do. It's ... weird. Then I remembered that I actually did, at one time, have interests and hobbies. I like to call that period BU--Before University. BU, I liked to watch and read about monsters. I've been fascinated with monsters and creatures for a looong time. So much so that I wrote my undergraduate thesis on zombies. I like to explore fear, the monstrous body, and sexuality--I can usually find all three in horror movies/books/T.V. series/graphic novels. I particularly enjoy fiction having to do with vagina dentata, cannibalism, and sublime alien bodies (cthulhu anyone?). So, I've decided to start this "awesome," empty blog to explore my interests in greater depth. I might even get started on my master's thesis, who knows?

To get things rolling (I want some readers ... someday), I've decided to post a picture of some of my art (see above). "How Doth the Little Crocodile" was a drawing I sketched to "finish off" one of my ink pens. It took about thirty minutes. My little crocodile is composed of a few bodies, including the human body, a dragon, a sea horse, and a mermaid/fish tail. I actually don't own this piece anymore. I donated it to a charity auction. But, there she is. A tangle of strange animals I threw together to make a stranger animal still.  

Things to come:

-A review of Lionel Shriver's novel, We Need to Talk About Kevin.