Seathruin O hAairt-
We are the children of Generation Y.
Having reaped the rewards of the yuppies, the baby busters and the prosperous business boom of the 1980s and early 90s, our parents left us to prosper financially without the hard grind of work or the salt from sweat on our brows.
However with the recession having finally arrived, surely we will have reached a point where we find ourselves coming to realise our responsibilities, and beginning to understand the true value of hard earned cash?
Several twenty euro notes smoked, fifty euro notes eaten and one Blackberry thrown down a mountain later, I implore you of the importance of 1985’s seminal Less than Zero.
Less than zero is a vital touchstone of literature in modern culture. Its nihilistic influence is undeniable. Ranging from the incessant and annoyingly hip characters from shows like Skins or Entourage, the books of Chuck Palahniuk (Fight Club, Choke), even the Dude in The Big Lebowski and plenty of other impersonators, Less than Zero has cemented its place as a masterpiece of avant-garde fiction.
Bret Easton Ellis, a genius of modern literature, wrote this novel at the ripe old age of 20. Ellis was still a student in college, and perhaps having sacrificed a potentially more polished work, he certainly made up for it in how raw and fresh it appeared to be. In 1985 it was released to widespread acclaim and controversy due to its disturbing nature.
The story is narrated by Clay, a rich student returning home from college for the winter break, and follows his journey through a continuous montage of monotonous partying, sex, drugs and drinking. Clay’s descriptive prowess is constantly working, overtime, always identifying every little detail, down to the fashion labels of a character’s clothing, until these semantics cease to maintain any actual value to the reader. Its generalised disaffection recalls that of other novels like Salinger’s ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ or Camus’ ‘The Outsider’.
It is an incredibly effective technique employed by the author to get you inside Clay and his accomplices’ state of mind. Events are piled upon each other in such a way that they are incredibly detailed, and yet at the same time, completely colourless. It reaches a point where a scene description of a welcome-home party, from a visceral and an emotional (emotionless?) perspective, is no different to the reader and our anti-hero, than a snuff film, or a heroin addiction or sex trafficking. The protagonist’s disturbing actions, that lack completely any form of moral compass or ethical values, constantly provide a horrific reminder of where our christened “Generation Y” finds itself constantly marching towards.
The book has been popularised in the last few years by music from bands such as Bloc Party (Song for Clay (Disappear Here)), and more recently the release of the, perhaps unnecessary sequel, ‘Imperial Bedrooms’. The sequel further highlighted the danger of this indifference and amorality that is finding itself more and more widespread.
Original reviews of the book saw it as a horrific and disturbing nightmarish view of the world. The idea that such spectres could exist in the world, undetected, was unbelievable.
I’m sure Conor Williams, Snooki, Paris et al. would attest to that…
