In the latest stop of their cross-country literary expedition, hosts Daniel Breyer and Jeremy Streich touch down in New Hampshire to dissect Bret Easton Ellis’s provocative novel, The Rules of Attraction. Episode 116 of the Good Scribes Only Podcast dives headfirst into this controversial tale of college life, emotional detachment, and privileged indifference.
Set against the backdrop of a fictional liberal arts school in the 1980s, Ellis’s narrative weaves together the lives of disenchanted, self-absorbed students whose experiences unfold through fragmented storytelling and multiple viewpoints. The result is a disorienting yet revealing look at a generation drowning in excess, numbed by wealth, and disconnected from genuine feeling.
Is the novel a biting satire, a bleak social critique, or just darkly comedic? At its core, it raises a haunting question: does unchecked privilege lead to apathy—or something even darker?
From its jarring opening—a sentence that begins mid-thought—Ellis signals that this novel isn’t here to provide comfort or clarity. Instead, it plunges into the chaotic lives of three central characters:
Told through a rotating cast of first-person narrators, the novel cleverly distorts the truth. One chapter might depict a romantic encounter with intensity, only for the next to downplay it as barely memorable.
“These are people who never truly connect,” Jeremy observes. “It feels like they’re constantly moving but never getting anywhere.”
The episode also examines the enduring allure of campus novels—stories that idealize, critique, or completely deconstruct the college experience.
“College is like a fantasy realm,” Daniel says. “You can do everything, or nothing, and still call it personal growth.”
But in The Rules of Attraction, the university is no utopia of learning. It’s more like a theater for superficial rebellion. Students coast through classes, indulge in sex and drugs, and lean on trust funds and American Express cards. Emotional crises abound—but they often feel performative or empty.
“These students have every option,” Jeremy points out. “And they choose to feel nothing.”
One of the novel’s most audacious devices is its circular structure—it both opens and closes mid-sentence, suggesting a loop of emotional futility. Entire chapters shift into foreign languages or abandon perspective just as the reader starts to feel anchored.
“It’s all about destabilizing the reader,” Daniel explains. “You’re lost because the characters are too.”
Supporting characters occasionally take center stage, only to vanish without resolution, adding to the atmosphere of fragmentation and meaninglessness.
Published when Ellis was just 23, the novel has long been considered bold, edgy, and unapologetically raw. But its impact can shift with the reader’s age and experience.
At 18, the story might seem thrilling—an unfiltered look at youth and rebellion. But to older readers, it hits more like a warning: a world where wealth and freedom lead not to fulfillment, but to despair.
“It wants to feel cool and dangerous,” Jeremy notes. “But what you really feel is the sadness underneath.”
Breyer and Streich explore how The Rules of Attraction fits into the wider genre of campus fiction, mentioning works like The Secret History and Normal People.
“College novels are like realism’s answer to fantasy,” Jeremy says. “Everything’s heightened, but the world is self-contained.”
Ellis, however, subverts the glamour of elite academia. His version of college is emotionally vacant, a fog of substance abuse and performative angst. It’s less about finding yourself and more about avoiding anything real.
A recurring theme in the episode is the way affluence shields these characters from consequence. Without financial strain or external pressure, their greatest struggle is figuring out how—or whether—to feel anything at all.
“They’re not concerned with jobs, rent, or survival,” Daniel says. “Their biggest issue is deciding what emotion to pretend next.”
That’s where the novel finds its edge: in the emptiness that comes when there’s nothing left to want.
While both hosts appreciated the novel’s biting humor and fearless approach, they also acknowledged its emotional hollowness.
“There were moments that made me laugh,” Daniel admits. “But it’s not the kind of book that stays with you in a meaningful way.”
For more insights into campus fiction, disaffected characters, and how Bret Easton Ellis’s nihilism compares to authors like Donna Tartt, check out Episode 116 of the Good Scribes Only Podcast.
