Initially engrossing, The Shards is an ultimately shallow narrative of extreme and tiresome privilege in 80s LA while a serial killer stalks the city.
A metafictional Bret Easton Ellis reflects on his teenage years and final year in high school as, slowly, the city becomes aware of the Trawler and the violent murders committed on young people. But, with the exception of Bret himself, the panic barely registers with his friends. Focus for extreme wealth is college (west coast or east?), parties, cocaine and, in the case of Bret’s girlfriend Debbie, her horse agisted a little way up the coast.
The prestigious Buckley school is the weekday destination, with Generation X likes of Bret, Debbie and the undoubted Prom king and queen Susan and Thom, sporting jocks Matt and Ryan all arriving in Porsches, Mercedes, BMWs etc in the final year private carpark a few minutes before the start of the school day. For Bret, Buckley has become boring and stifling, where he is performing a well-rehearsed part while I figured out my escape. That includes reasonable grades and a final year romance with Debbie and a likely break-up in a couple of years. But that’s not going to happen.
First off, there’s the ongoing, detached sexual relationships with Matt and Ryan – far more satisfying physically than anything with Debbie. And what’s worse, there’s a sexual frisson between Bret and Debbie’s father, successful film producer Terry. Then there’s the Trawler and Bret’s obsession and fear of the seemingly random killings and the killer’s terrifying methodology. Matt’s sudden disappearance and killing add to Bret’s obsessions and, aided by the perpetual excess alcohol, cocaine-and-Quaaludes, increasing paranoia – not helped by the fact he has been left alone at home whilst his executive parents take off for an extended European trip. With the arrival of new student Robert Mallory, all of Bret’s confusion, fear and uncertainty become focused on one person – not helped by Mallory holding on to a few too many personal secrets.
The Shards is narrated by Bret two decades later. It has a feel of two separate narratives intertwined by the speculative and overactive imagination of a young, 17 year-old wannabe writer. The close-knit friendships are seriously disrupted by the arrival of the good-looking Mallory – events pan out that see death, injury and serious rifts within the group. The overly detailed, repetitive indulgence of the metafictional memoire overshadows the gothic serial killer stalking the Hollywood Hills ensuring that the two never satisfactorily come together. Bret’s intense paranoia and intense dislike and mistrust of Mallory may reach fever pitch and build suspense, but ultimately, there’s excess privileged indulgence that creates a level of disinterest in the outcome that indicates the novel’s failings. It all gets somewhat tiresome.
An Opinion or Two 