3 Out Of 5 Stars
30 years after Clay, Blair and Julian exposed themselves to be shallow, drug addled and self absorbed Hollywood brats, they have grown up to become shallow, self absorbed Hollywood adults. They still meander thought their lives in overtly confusing jumbles of run-on sentences trying to connect with their vapid lives that seem to matter ony to themselves or at least to whenever Clay can figure where his next connection will take place. As he would have it in his life anyways, Clay is the central figure in "Imperial Bedrooms
," now a middling success as a producer and screenwriter of pictures that churn out of Hollywood with little purpose other than to see how many times the name Clay will appear on IMDb with a minor side of actresses and actors to have sex with and or make him feel like he's still a teenager.
And yes, Ellis still writes that way. There's a sly sense of humor underneath it all, even though the book is dry as a bone. in fact, the opening chapter is Clay complaining about how badly the movie of "Less Than Zero" was and how Julian irritated that they killed him off onscreen. It isn't as good as "L
ess Than Zero" or has confrontational/controversial as "American Psycho," but it is still Ellis writing in the form that he pioneered...and does better than any of his many copycats.
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