The Shards - Blog Posts

THE SHARDS by BRET EASTON ELLIS (REVIEW)

quickly: a group of rich white friends are too high to notice that the new kid may be a serial killer (an imaginative young writer / a vain but popular group of friends / a new kid with a dark past / valium for breakfast, weed for lunch, ‘ludes for dinner, cocaine for dessert / boys, boys, boys / endless supplies of sex, drugs, and rock and roll / hippie cults hiding in the hills / blood sacrifices and bodily ‘arrangements’ / ‘there’s someone in the house’ / where are the adults??!)

For just a moment, I was a young, hot, high, and wealthy white seventeen-year-old in ’70s-’80s Los Angeles… My parents are never home, every day is an orgasm, and I have all the drugs and euphoria I want. In my endless pharmaceutical high, a serial killer is playing mind games with my friends and me, and I’m barely sober enough to notice it is happening.

That is THE SHARDS. I am confident that if I were to give this hardcover copy a good shake, either a quaalude, a Valium, or a mist of fine white powder may loosen itself from the bindings. These are the substances that seem to hold the story and its characters together. There’s also a hearty scoop of graphic, disturbing, deranged, stomach-churning violence… a stark contrast to the ultra-sweet lives of these young rich kids. The reality of these brutal slayings is what makes the kids’ dissociation all the more real.

★ ★ ★ ★

more thoughts: SPOILERS!

Some personal context… this isn’t the book I originally planned on reading after “HUMAN SACRIFICES” by María Ampeuro, but it was actually the perfect follow-up. The world of the characters in María’s stories were soaked in the harsh realities of capitalism, white supremacy, and patriarchy. What better pairing than a story on the other end of the spectrum… rich white kids with Daddy’s money made from exploiting others!

This is my first Bret Easton Ellis book. All I knew about the guy before reading this was that he wrote AMERICAN PSYCHO. I’ve seen the movie, but I’ve never read the book. I actually owned the book for years, and it was destroyed in a flooded storage facility. Nevertheless, I ended up meeting Bret Easton Ellis’s work anyways. Not because I sought out his penmanship, but because, as tends to happen, I just had a good feeling about the book based on the cover, description, and number of reviews.

This book made me feel poor and ugly, and I think that was the point!

This is a story about a story. The book opens with a prelude in present-day LA as our narrator, Bret Easton Ellis, is driving around and sees an old classmate, which ignites panic within him. 

From there we are sent back to the summer before Bret’s senior year begins. He is a closeted bisexual man in love with his best friend Sarah, who is dating his good friend Thom (whom he is also in love with). He doesn’t seem to be in love with his girlfriend Debbie at all. An idyllic summer spent third wheeling with Susan and Thom ends once school starts and a new guy is introduced at the morning assembly… Robert Mallory. 

Immediately, Robert gets under Bret’s skin. Bret remembers seeing Robert months before he moved to L.A., at a movie theater, but Robert’s consistent denial of this drives Bret crazy. Taking time off from the different guys at school he is secretly intimate with, he decides to follow Robert after school one day. Robert catches him in the act of tailing him and any chance they had at a friendship is ruined. From here on out, it’s a game of cat and mouse between the two. (Or maybe mouse and mouse?)

The first major OMG moment is the death of Matt (a consistently stoned hottie), one of Bret’s ‘intimate friends’. 

As Bret watches Robert ease his way into the various friend groups on campus, he begins to see a side of Robert that is only noticeable from a distance… he notices the silent calculations that Robert is constantly making as if Robert is devising some secret masterplan. It’s then that Robert begins taunting Bret, dropping hints that he knows about the relationship between Bret and Matt. It’s also then that Matt starts receiving mysterious phone calls and notices that someone has stolen his pet fish and rearranged his room. In a state of psychological anguish, he accuses Bret of being behind it, due to some ‘gay’ obsession with Matt. Soon after, Matt turns up dead. Missing for several days, then found dead and mutilated in his own backyard. 

Bret meets with Matt’s father and learns the horrid details of Matt’s death. This makes the outlines of what Bret may be dealing with become more real now. No one cares about Matt’s death enough to notice the pattern that is forming. News articles begin to appear, daily, about missing girls, missing pets, mysterious home break-ins with furniture being rearranged, and late-night attacks. The police eventually put together a profile for a killer they are calling The Trawler. There are hints that he may be connected to a roving group of Manson-esque murder hippies that are terrorizing LA.

Bret makes the decision to divide himself between a true, hidden Bret, and a false, public Bret. Public Bret will play the role of a model student and boyfriend, while private Bret investigates Robert Mallory, whom he believes to be The Trawler. Valium, Quaaludes, and marijuana form the wall between the real and fake Brets. (Imagine someone breaking into your home, and you pop a pill and hide in a closet, falling asleep, and just hoping they pass you by.) Cue an endless string of parties, conversations, car rides, class assignments, and missed calls from Debbie (and The Trawler) that Bret floats through.

Fast forward past more missing women, Bret following Robert Mallory through the streets of LA, Bret being followed by a mysterious van through the streets of LA, Bret being taunted by The Trawler, Bret meeting with Robert’s aunt and finding out about Robert’s dark past, Bret breaking into Robert’s second home, Bret sleeping with Debbie’s dad, and Bret’s numerous attempts at telling someone what may be happening with Robert and being called crazy, etc. 

Eventually, we reach the foggy climax. After Debbie goes missing, Bret is convinced that Susan is the Trawler’s next victim. Robert’s next victim. He decides to take matters into his own hands. That night, Susan and Thom are attacked at Susan’s home by a masked assailant. Susan bites the assailant and he runs out (but not before disfiguring Susan’s breast, and Thom’s leg). Robert comes to the rescue, getting them help, and then heads back to his apartment. Bret arrives at Robert’s apartment soon after and a fight ensues that leads to Robert jumping to his death. Bret is alive and tells a version of the story that exonerates himself, and there is no one to dispute it. 

It is only in the denouement that it is revealed that Bret was the attacker that night of Susan and Thom’s attempted killing… and this is where I started to come down off the story’s canna/lude/coke/valium high… We find out that Bret is Susan and Thom’s attacker after Susan recognizes the bite mark she left on her attacker’s arm, casually peeking out from Bret’s long sleeve Polo. He breaks her hand and threatens her, to keep her quiet. (It’s only years later that Bret finds out Susan immediately told Thom about what she saw on Bret’s arm).

Coupled with this jarring reveal, we are also told (through a letter written to the press) that The Trawler is neither Bret nor Robert. The Trawler is independent of both young men but is indeed a part of the cult roaming the hills of LA. They claim that Robert Mallory was ‘their God’, and the mutilated bodies were ’sacrifices’ given to ‘the God’. Then I just sat with the book closed and wondered what I had just read.

I went back and forth on whether I felt this deserved 4 or 5 stars (like my opinion matters LOL). What gives me doubt is the execution of the ending. As bulky of a book as THE SHARDS is, the writing was actually pretty easy to follow. It flowed frictionlessly from one page to the next. I didn’t even mind all the extraneous storylines because they flowed, and added flesh to the characters. However, the last few chapters ended in such an odd package of revelations and reveals that it almost seemed as if a different writer had tried to finish the story with Bret’s voice.

Now, I must also say, that after reading the book I did a lite Google search on Bret Easton Ellis, just to see what he’s up to today. Unsurprisingly, he seems to be exactly the man I’d expect him to be after growing up as a well-to-do SoCal private school kid (i.e., his book White, 2019). He has not escaped the haze of privilege and wealth, that tends to blind those with his upbringing, from the complex harsh multi-ethnic multi-cultural struggles of the world. I wasn’t disappointed though. Just confirmed. Only a privileged asshole could write so excellently about vanity, insecurity, and recreational pharmaceuticals.