Imperial Bedrooms (Vintage Contemporaries)

Twenty-five years later, we return to LA for an update in the life of the emotionally-barren Clay of "Less Than Zero" and his posse, now in their early 40s and still as morally bankrupt and unrepentant as ever.I enjoyed Ellis's "Less Than Zero" for its unapologetic nihilism on full display. The hollowed-out shells of people wandering through a city landscape full of myriad delights and terrors, brazenly taking what they wanted without any regard for others. The LA of "Less Than Zero" was a haunted city full of ghosts--a noir-ish place both engaging and repulsive at the same time, much like the book's characters. Hopeless as it all was, we all share a need to wallow in our own misery sometimes, and Ellis as an author is good at providing that.So how does this sequel compare and (most importantly for me) does it capture the same emotions as its predecessor? Yes, but the aim is different. Whereas "Less Than Zero" read like a documentary, stream-of-consciousness roller coaster into the darkest recesses of the City of Angels, "Imperial Bedrooms" goes down a different rabbit hole. This one has--shock shock--an actual plot, if you will. Simply put, there's a mystery, bringing that familiar noir aspect into a realm more akin to film noir. Clay the philanderer is back in LA. There's a dark, mysterious beauty with high ambitions for a role in the film he is helping cast who comes with more than her share of secrets. Bodies of old acquaintances turn up mutilated in the desert. Someone harasses him via a blocked number and it appears he is being followed. The people around him hover on the periphery, knowing more than they reveal and yet tantalizingly communicating in vague ways. And through it all is the city, depicted once again with a mix of reverence and disgust, almost another character in itself, all smoke and mirrors, teeming with supernatural threats and infested with ghosts, vampires, and fog.I found myself being unable to resist reading all the way through to figure out the mystery, only to discover it's all a ruse. That's not to say Ellis delivers a cop-out. We do get answers. But, like the characters in the novel whose faults Ellis depicts unapologetically, the narrative is always elusive, sifting in and out of our hands, frustrating as much as it satisfies.The real focus of the novel is not the mystery, as Ellis makes clear that these sorts of crimes in his LA are not uncommon enough to be reverent. The mystery is a hook to introduce us to Clay--the real Clay this time around--as the opening chapter, in a clever narrative twist, reveals that "Less Than Zero" was the work of someone hovering on the periphery of that bleak Christmas scene 25 years ago, taking notes and exposing the comings and goings of his inner posse for all the world to see, first in the form of a book and then a film based on the book. This is obviously a meta reworking ofthe real life story of "Less Than Zero", and it works by giving the sequel a fresh angle to work with.By the end of the novel, we come to know the real Clay, unfiltered through the eyes of the observer in the original novel. If the previous version was complicit in his inaction to the depravities surrounding him, the new one takes a far more active role in the grim proceedings that take place on his sojourn back to his hometown. In that effect, the Clay of "Less Than Zero", as unflattering as he was, gets off the hook easy by skating by with a portrayal that was, unknowingly to its author, far kinder than the reality. And so we wade into the muck once again, an innocent but willing bystander to violence, sexual depravity, murder, and indifference.By the time I read a graphic torture scene that hearkened back to Ellis's "American Psycho" days, I had gotten what I wanted: a return trip to hell that left me feeling uncomfortable and yet fascinated at the same time. The LA in these two novels is like Dante's Inferno, and each chapter takes us down another circle.

I am a huge BEE fan. I feel his first person narrative is so acutely attuned that the reader can almost smell the characters' experiences. The whole concept of "character development" is a non-issue with many of his books. And herein lies the division between the two camps that either love his work or despise it almost as a sport, on par with the nature of female gossiping. I've always been drawn to BEE's novels based on a combination of literary style and the recurring theme of a lack of coherence in the universe (as he referred to in "Lunar Park" with regards to his Father's philosophy of life blackening his and his sisters' view of the world from WAY too early an age while still being arguably correct). Nihilism, yes. This is psycho-philosophical. The literary element almost takes a backseat to this, which could very well be the crux of his critics ennui with him. There is a sentence in "Lunar Park" in which BEE, playing himself as a part time writing professor says something about his students along the lines of, "Students trying to describe reality, but mostly failing." And when approaching Ellis' works this is absolutely paramount. At any rate, "Imperial Bedrooms" is essentially the literary expression/extension of betrayal whose seeds were planted in the film adaptation of "Less Than Zero". There is a piece circulating on YouTube where Ellis speaks of how "Bedrooms" was initially going to be a romantic novella revolving around Clay and Blair some 25 years later. However, after the producers of "The Informers" replaced Jarecki with the Australian director Gregor Jordan, both Ellis and Jarecki became simultaneously embarrassed and enraged with the final release. For Ellis, this was the film adaptation of "Less Than Zero" having NOTHING to do with the book ALL OVER AGAIN. So, Ellis explains that while working on "Bedrooms" as "The Informers" debacle unravelled before him (for a second time), he abruptly altered the course of "Bedrooms" into what it finally became. Betrayal a la Hollywood style. All the primary characters possibly representing the producers of the film and Gregor Jordan, pushing Ellis into a story of revenge, while still maintaing some bits and parts here and there of the book's original intentions. Most people have the standard, tired cliches of what Hollywood represents. Sleaze mostly. So, Ellis gobbled this up, transformed his character relationships and plot in general based on the betrayal, now TWICE, of two of his novels. It's not about vacuousness, vapidness, indifference towards the course of one's life due to trust funds, the utter absence of remorse (well there is that, but not in any 40-something acting as if they're 22 sort of way), or the overall nonchalant approach towards sex, love, or the complete and utter absence or indifference towards guilt, remorse, etc. for one's actions. "Imperial Bedrooms" finds Clay at the Vanishing Point, the point of no return. In fact the novel(la) could have been re-christened after the seminal 80's band New Order's track of the same name. In other words, Clay has returned to L.A., again, and everything is the same, only his circle has matured (believe it or not) at least to a point where they realize that life, certainly in upper crust L.A., is not as simple as a wife, a house with a white picket fence and a dog named Spot. All Clay sees around him is the redundant, sinister selfishness. "Sadness. It's everywhere." He's resigned himself to his (in BEE's real life) Father's warning how the Universe, us, are ultimately "doomed to failure" from the get go. The scene in "American Psycho" where Bateman kills a small child at the zoo and then, through the lens of a psychopath, regrets his attack realizing how glowingly unsatisfying it is to take a life way before it has hit it's prime is somewhat of a harbinger (not to mention that Mary Harron BUTCHERED that adaptation, making it almost a comedy, whereas a director such as Oliver Stone could have made a MUCH better film while still downplaying the hyper-graphic violence. Compare and contrast the film adaptations of "Bright Lights Big City" and "American Psycho", the latter almost comical and looks like it was shot almost COMPLETELY on sound stages whereas the former had a real life New York grittiness to it with, God forbid, the exterior shots actually being filmed on the real streets of NYC) . "Bedrooms" finds Clay at his prime, and he has been accused, even in the trailer for the book, that he never "tried hard enough" to save a friend, to love the girl, or being the "damaged party boy, blood streaming from his nose asking questions THAT NEVER REQUIRED AN ANSWER." "Bedrooms" can be summed up as such. There are no...answers. There SHOULD be, but in Clay's life (perhaps "his home, L.A." in general) these answers have somehow managed to walk between the raindrops...and he his dimly aware of this but everyone else in his life appears to have been blinded to this. "Life is but a dream, covered by the sky" (a line from a New Order track entitled "Special"). Clay has made his peace, no matter how dark it may be, with his "because I live here". All he sees is a world where people use each other, like a tilt-o-wheel of desires and aspirations. There is never a moral epiphany, even 25 years later. But, this is his home, he is thinking, stumbling around the jungle of L.A. in an alcoholic fug that more than likely simultaneously heightens this awareness while blunting it's inherent pain. Blair says something to the effect at one point, "What you want (to be?) Clay doesn't exist." I believe BEE meant this sentence to be a paradox of how Clay sees the world. A world that he was born into and by it's nature should have cradled what he wanted to be. Instead, it's been a never-ending roulette game where people "play" and use each other, and in the dim recesses of his mind, he realizes there is no longer any point in honesty, virtue, keeping one's word...of "trying hard enough". No one else is. "What's the worst thing that has ever happened to you?.....Unconditional love." That is a very strong, sad and poignant statement because the response is so powerfully twisted and at odds with what Nature intended. In conclusion, I think the final paragraph summarizes things up nice and tidy, not only giving the reader a glimpse of BEE's outline of what "Bedrooms" was initially meant to be about, but he is simultaneously addressing the industry under the guise of Blair as well as the secret depths of depravity that one (many) can sink to, still operate, and everything on the outside to those around them remain surface, surface, surface. And of course the final sentence, replete with dates I think wholeheartedly displays BEE"s message to the...EMPIRE.

The old gang from "Less Than Zero" are revisited in a sort of sequel, "Imperial Bedrooms". They were wasted as teenagers and they're wasted in middle age. Trent Burroughs is married to Blair, Julian Wells is around, Rip Millar is creepier than the last time, while Clay is as vapid and self-absorbed as ever.The story begins with a film Clay wrote and is helping produce, "The Listeners", where he meets a desperate and beautiful actress, Rain Turner, who will do anything for a starring role. Clay and Rain become involved but then the murders start happening and Clay doesn't realise what he's gotten himself into nor who Rain really is. Mysterious texts follow sackings of his flat and blue/green BMWs stalking Clay wherever he goes. Somehow his "friends" are all tied into this and Clay has to decide who to trust...If not for the characters' names this could easily be a standalone book rather than a sequel. Besides finding out that our heroes of "Less" turn out to be older and still behave like they did 25 years ago, it's not exactly a revelatory update. But that's fine because the book is more than the better for it. It launches straight into the story. The story seems very The Hills/The OC in style; it's all about who slept with who, what their game is, jilted love, revenge, etc. except for several horrific scenes. I'm thinking of what Clay does to the two hookers at the end and the grotesque murder (all detailed) of one of the main characters by another. Also, while this is a Hollywood novel, Ellis doesn't do what most Hollywood novels do and inject satire or parody into the story. It's a straightfoward serious story that plays off of perceived Hollywood stereotypes to construct something original.Ellis specialises in 1st person narration and Clay's voice is as cold and dispassionate as it was in the '80s and the familiar scenes of drug abuse and sexual exploitation are told with all the emotional resonance of a shopping list. We see the story through Clay's eyes and his lack of interest in his friends from "Less Than Zero" heighten their characters' level of interest in the reader. Rip in particular is a menacing figure who seems to be somehow omnipotent but because Clay shields himself from finding out about Rip's life, we never know more about him, making Rip even more terrifying. Clay's a great character who evolves throughout the story from being emotionally detached to become totally changed, finally ending on the words "I never liked anyone and I'm afraid of people"."1985-2010" follow the final sentence and makes me wonder if Ellis is giving up novel writing or maybe he's giving up writing the type of novel he's famous for. I hope that's not the case. Even if some will look at this and dislike aspects of it (and if you've read Ellis before and didn't like him, this book won't change your opinion), Ellis is still by far one of the finest novelists around at the moment. It was never going to be the groundbreaking book "Less Than Zero" was but it has the virtue of being more interesting than almost any novel published this year. "Imperial Bedrooms" is overall a well written and worthwhile read.

I must admit I have grown into a firm appreciation of Brett Easton Ellis rather than being a rabid fan from the outset. I enjoyed the first couple of books in the 80s [Clay, the narrator in Imperial Bedrooms, is a character from Less Than Zero] although well written, were almost disposable in a yuppies 80s sort of way. It was American Psycho that finally got me hooked and that book remains one of the best [and most shocking] I've ever read.Whatever, Imperial Bedrooms. This is a lot slimmer slice of `stream of consciousness' story telling than those before in which there is in fact hardly any `story' as such, but more of a snapshot of lifestyle anxiety in the neoliberal materialistic morass of the early 21st century. Clay has returned to LA during a `break' in his standard issue media career, although it's not exactly clear how successful he's been at it, although one suspects not very. Wealth has nonetheless still clung to him which is perhaps another salient indicator of the nature of our times. He is obviously close to a breakdown, filling a life he secretly acknowledges as being shallow with delusions of love and friendship fuelled by the usual drugs and drink. It culminates in the trademark BEE scene of sexual and narcotic debauchery which is probably less shocking now than it once was, but still efficiently does the job.Imperial Bedrooms is little more than a novella and the criticism that it seems to have been rattled off quickly are understandable but I think this misses the mark; the prose is in fact deftly managed, experimental but not numbing and clearly has been carefully designed. It may seem like easy stream of consciousness stuff, but BEE's talent is that he makes it look easy, when it is not at all.In that way this book is perhaps closest to `The Informers' in its atmosphere of materialist ennui and aimlessness, than any of its other predecessors.This is a great book to lose yourself in for a few hours, to just let wash over you, and then allow its subtle messages to creep up on you. Although it is based on the monied `elite' of a corporate America, BEE still has a strong message for our wider society in his analysis of that increasingly inept, corrupt, unimaginative but paradoxically continually enriched elite.Finally, BEE is often described as the archetypal `post-modernist' writer with his arch-irony and cynicism, but again this is a moniker that misses the mark to my mind. There is something stridently modernist in his work as he exposes the fundamental flaws in our consumerist, individual-obsessed western culture. He perhaps doesn't meticulously pick it apart, or suggest any mechanisms for its amelioration as some modernist analysts do [of whom there are precious few of today anyway] but, as a novelist, he does do what a good novelist should do: he makes you think and then devise your own conclusions on what has been presented to you.

Well put together; in my opinion another beauty.The characters, i.e Clay, Rip, Blair and Trent are older and more shady now.They drive high into the mountain tops, to ensure their conversations are not overheard and are all successful adults, either married or dating young models, call girls etc.Set by the sea, Imperial Bedrooms has a far more laid back vibe than American Psycho, however in contrast to the seeming innocence and beauty of the characters and scenery, in a way the crimes seem even more disturbing.

As this is a sequel of the not bad Less Than Zero, I was interested to see where it would go. Needless to say I wasn't too impressed by the direction it took. I couldn't quite figure out how Clay from the Less Than Zero mutated into the Clay of Imperial Bedrooms. I don't particularly think I'd read it again.Still, at least it's a *lot* better than the disaster that was Glamorama.

I generally love BEE books. The Informers is the only one I don't really get on with. After the excellent, trippy Lunar Park I had high hopes for this, even though Less Than Zero isn't my favourite of his. To Imperial Bedrooms credit, it's far more plot-driven than most of his earlier works and the sense of paranoia is great. It's just that the ending really threw me. The last 10 pages in particular. I won't say why, not to spoil it, but it just didn't seem like the same character and left me not really sure of the whole book - something I still feel weeks after.