One of the funniest, sickest books I've ever read. Kinda interesting because I think it doesn't just capture the zeitgeist of this late 80s/early 90s yuppie thing, but also seems kind prescient. With mainstream (and I guess art) films getting more and more, 24 hour news channels, rampant consumerism even in a recession, the internet's power to desensitise and hyper-analyse, it does seem like violence becomes no more meaningful than clothes or a MOR record, it's just something to catalogue and then move on from or something.
Anyway, my favourite bits were probably when he waxed lyrical over Genesis and stuff. Patrick Bateman's one sexy psychopath.