The Shards

I'm confused and conflicted about this one.
Aside from being a considerably long book, it's hazy, redundant, morally reprehensible in every which way and strangely anticlimactic. Yet, despite all this, it's good. Very good.

What I enjoyed the most, I was delighted to discover, was something the author himself ended up mentioning in the brief conclusive chapter: his incredible ability to give a believable account of what being a teenager feels like, pristine and unadulterated as if forty years hadn't gone by.

There are many things in this book that I did not enjoy as I was reading it, but whichever way I try to look at it, they all end up becoming essential elements to this daunting tale of manic unraveling.

I have to say, though, as someone who has yet to visit California, I found myself often scoffing in impatience at the constant mentioning of roads and boroughs of L.A.
I was reminded of the SNL ‘Californians' sketch, where the cast pokes fun at Angelenos because they only seem to talk about traffic. Because of this, I feel like I sometimes took the book less seriously than it wanted to be.

Horrifying depiction of coming of age wherein the characters have the ostensible freedom of adulthood, but the power and credibility of children. Our neurotic, ineffectual protagonist is being thrust into the violence, cruelty, and indifference of the real world, and the paranoia, fear, and betrayal that accompanies this leap infects you as the reader. The portrayal of this transition is the real brilliance of this book, I think. It captures the illusion of adolescent choice and will, but ultimately the events and conflicts that mature you happen regardless. As Bret realizes, you just have to sit back and take it as a “tangible participant.” It’s a sort of baptism.

The mystery and narration of this book is its greatest strength, as it will keep you guessing and you will slowly grow just as paranoid as Bret. And even though I initially felt somewhat disappointed by the ambiguous ending, it has stuck with me. I can’t help but think that there is an answer, that if I go back and read between the lines I can figure it out. Maybe there is a clue with the posters? Maybe it is in the “alterations”? While I doubt there really is an answer, I think my desperation for one speaks to the strength of BEE’s writing.

A common criticism of this book is its length and its meandering. And while I don’t think either of these criticisms can be outright denied, I was not particularly bothered by either. Ellis’ style of run-ons and innocuous references to pop culture and geography takes some getting used to, but I think it has its charm. At its best it masterfully controls the story’s pace, and at its worst it’s somewhat tedious. And I think the length is more a benefit than a downside, as the time spent with Bret really got me to inhabit his headspace.

Overall, I thought this was an excellent book. My only real gripe is that the ending didn’t tie up the mystery as much as I wanted it to, but again, there’s pros and cons to that. It’s also worth mentioning that there are parts of this book that I found genuinely terrifying in unique ways. The build-up to the scene with Terry and Bret in the bungalow made my stomach drop, and the scene when Bret is in his Aunt’s house in the desert gave me a nightmare lol. But I loved this book, it’s not quite as profound and well-crafted as American Psycho but I thoroughly enjoyed it in every aspect.