The Shards: A Novel

“Writing this now, I can’t believe that I was left to my own devices for twenty minutes, just idly sitting there, thinking about things, about Thom and about Susan, waiting without a phone to look at, waiting without something to distract me.”

Bret often uses his story to make comments about contemporary culture. One luxury of living in 1981 is having the space to be “idle” or “think.” Bret argues that the omnipresence of digital entertainment in contemporary society make people less introspective.

“Whoever played this character was extremely elusive—a shape-shifter—though he was responsible for twenty break-ins that summer alone.”

In a metafictional gesture, as Bret refers to the Trawler as a character. The Trawler is literally a character in a book, but he’s also someone who the other characters create—the LAPD invent his crude nickname. The characterization—“elusive” and “shape-shifter”—suggest Bret might be the Trawler as Bret isn’t transparent or easily definable.

“A mixtape playing Blondie’s ‘Call Me’ completed my American Gigolo moment as I headed toward Buckley, and yet the excitement of it somewhat diminished because I was soon stuck in traffic.”

The image ties together the symbolism of music with the motif of consumerism. The song is a “shard,” breaking up the “moment,” adding another noise and meaning. The film and Buckley link to money and status. By including “traffic,” Bret subverts the glamorous scene and counters it with commonplace reality.

“Robert didn’t need to hit on anyone, because he had an innate confidence—he wasn’t a creepy stalker—and he was never rebuffed or rejected by any of the girls he chatted with in the food court.”

Bret’s characterization of Robert at the mall indicates that Robert isn’t a predator. However, one chapter later, Bret tells Susan that Robert is “stalking girls at the Galleria” (297). The contradiction highlights The Malleability of Truth in Storytelling: Bret is an unreliable narrator, as he often changes or distorts his views. However, Bret is honest about his embellishments or misrepresentations; he never presents himself as reliable.

“Sex and novels and music and movies were the things that made life bearable—not friends, not family, not school, not social scenes, not interactions.”

Bret creates a hierarchy where sex and culture reign over personal relationships. Strikingly, he places sex in the same category as “novels and music and movies,” treating it as a source of beauty and pleasure, not an “interaction.” The people Bret has sex with, including Matt, Ryan, and Debbie, are present for him only as bodies onto which he projects his own fantasies. This solipsism suggests that he might be capable of the violence he imputes to Robert.

“[I]t didn’t matter to me what the characters did. They existed, and I just wanted to convey a mood, immerse a reader into a particular atmosphere that was built from carefully selected details. “

The quote engages in metafiction, as the narrator/author describes his own artistic sensibility. This statement of the artist’s values suggests that the serial killer’s identity is of secondary importance. Bret uses the brutal murderer for the purposes of forming a thrilling mood. What’s important is the cinematic atmosphere, not the plot itself.

“I’d really like to fuck her in the ass. Really fuck that ass hard. Make her scream for it.”

Robert’s repetition of “fuck” and “ass” reveal his violent characterization suggests that he could be the Trawler. The predatory diction foreshadows the “fake monster” on the cassette tape. Bret, too, uses lewd diction, highlighting Robert’s narrative function as a dark mirror for the narrator.

“Matt Kellner didn’t exist anymore—Ryan had erased him.”

Bret juxtaposes Matt and Ryan. After Bret’s intensely sexual weekend with Ryan, Ryan doesn’t just become more important than Matt—he eradicates Matt. The hyperbolic diction reveals Bret’s intensity and objectifies Matt and Ryan, with Ryan becoming the more enticing commodity.

“It’s only one more year, Bret. We’re only here for one more year.”

Susan says this to Bret after Bret refuses to tell her about his weekend with Ryan. The quote reveals Susan and Bret’s bond. She knows that Bret is experiencing inner turmoil and wants to leave Buckley. She feels the same way, so in Chapter 14, Bret repeats the statement when she’s upset about her confining role.

“Sheila Kellner would glimpse the guesthouse from the windows in the second-story master bedroom and the only light would be coming from the aquarium or from candles Matt had lit, lined against the pool, where Matt swam until he went to bed, but she rarely saw him, as if Matt was keeping himself purposefully invisible to his parents.”

The image illustrates Alienation and Suspicion within Relationships; as Matt lives in the pool house, he creates a distance from his parents, and they turn into autonomous neighbors, not family members. Sheila looks at the pool or his window as if the only element that binds them together is physical proximity. There’s no interpersonal bond, and Matt wants it that way.

“‘Are you Robert?’ ‘No, I’m Bret.’ ‘Who are you?’ ‘I was a friend of Matt’s.’ ‘A friend? His friend?’”

The dialogue between Bret and Matt’s father furthers the alienation and suspicion. Bret makes simple statements, which only leads to questions from Ronald. Disconnected from his son, Ronald has no idea who Bret is. The absence of familiarity sows mistrust, highlighting the prevalence of alienation and suspicion in relationships within this privileged milieu.

“I didn’t want to hear music, songs that would remind me of Matt, or make me feel something, and distract me from the schedule. I wanted to remain emotionless, and climb onto that vaulted tier of numbness that Susan Reynolds resided on. That was the plan.”

Bret articulates the fragmenting power of the music. After committing to becoming a “new Bret,” he drives to school in silence because he doesn’t want the songs to break up his “numbness” or disorder his “plan.”

“I wasn’t the gay best friend you could confide everything to for Susan and Debbie, and yet in reality I actually was, but they didn’t know this. And I might have been exactly that if I’d played things differently or if we were in another world.”

Bret alludes to a popular trope in which a gay character becomes a sidekick to the main female character. Bret’s identification with the “gay best friend” isn’t straightforward. He claims he is one “in reality”; a sentence later, he says he “might have been” one, indicating that he’s not. Bret is uncertain about who he is, but the phrase “if we were in another world” suggests that the prejudices of this specific setting inform his identity—precluding some possibilities while facilitating others.

“‘You know, you don’t have to make things so difficult.’ ‘What do you mean? What do I make too difficult?’ ‘You need to relax, take it easy. You don’t have to make things so difficult for yourself. For whatever’s happening.’ ‘What’s happening?’ ‘Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it here.’”

The dialogue between Ryan and Bret circles back to the exchange between Bret and Ronald and creates a template for how most of the conversations proceed. The characters remain elusive and unknowable, even those who are ostensibly friends. One character says something, and the other character replies with a question, as if they’re inevitably on contrasting wavelengths. This dynamic contributes to alienation and suspicion in relationships.

“[S]ometimes I think I’m dealing with one person […] And then I feel I’m dealing with…an actor.”

Thom’s slippery characterization of Robert matches Bret’s elusive characterization of the Trawler, which suggests that Robert could be the Trawler. As Bret regularly presents himself and his friends as playing roles, they, too, are actors, so Robert’s actorly persona isn’t so different from theirs.

“[T]he van was still slowly gliding behind me. Don’t be a pussy, I heard Ryan Vaughn’s voice, and my heart cracked.”

The van appears repeatedly, turning into a symbol of unknowability. Bret never figures out why the van is following him or who’s in the van. Like the identity of the Trawler, the van remains a mystery. Bret also repeats Ryan’s phrase, “don’t be a pussy,” which reveals Ryan’s hold over Bret, and Bret’s belief that he must confront something—though what that something is remains unknowable.

“‘Did…you like the cock?’ ‘It’s so cold…’ ‘Did you like inserting the cock in your anus?’”

The dialogue between the “fake monster” (whom Bret believes is Robert) and Matt resembles the dialogue between the other characters, with one character asking questions and the other making statements. The bland, affectless language contrasts with the intensity and possible violence of what is taking place. This aligns with author Bret Easton Ellis’s signature style throughout his writing career, but it also conveys the theme of alienation and suspicion in relationships.

“I think that you are losing it. I mean, I just want to have a good time. And you’re causing all of this drama.”

Ryan’s characterization of Bret indicates that Bret doesn’t have a grip on reality. Ryan highlights Bret’s unreliability as a narrator while also demonstrating the nihilistic attitude that characterizes all the interactions between the primary characters: They all just want to “have a good time,” insisting that nothing means anything and refusing to really know each other or themselves, until a wave of mysterious violence breaks down the walls of their privileged idyll.

“I’m not quite sure what you think he is capable of. I’m saying he’s not the dangerous individual you seem to say he is.”

Abigail is a critical secondary character, as she provides a relatively detailed history of Robert, suggesting that Robert could be the Trawler. At the same time, Abigail is unreliable. While she depicts his violent and maybe murderous past, she clings to the notion that he’s not a decidedly “dangerous individual.”

“Sometimes a poster is just a poster, Bret. You’re scaring me.”

As Bret’s main concern is creating a cool and dangerous atmosphere, there are few overtly humorous scenes, but Debbie here provides some intentional humor. Playing on the idiom, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar”—originally an ironic criticism of the Freudian tendency to impute subconscious psychosexual symbolism to everyday objects—Debbie tells Bret that the poster doesn’t represent anything deeper than a large image of a band album. By stating that Bret is scaring her, however, Debbie reinstates the anxious mood that dominates the book.

“My guess is that you’ve been alone and isolated. And that maybe this has affected you in ways that might have ignited your imagination.”

Dr. Croft doesn’t believe that Robert is the Trawler, and he reminds the reader Bret isn’t the most reliable witness. His statement that Bret’s isolation has “ignited [his] imagination” provides a clear encapsulation of one of the book’s key themes: the malleability of truth in storytelling.

“I just nodded and had an overwhelming need to comfort Thom, to stroke his jaw and run my fingers through his hair and tell him it would be okay and then we’d kiss, our lips brushing against each other, I’d be there, he could be with me, I’d never leave Thom for someone else.”

The dreamy picture depicts Bret as Thom’s loyal boyfriend, undercutting the insistence on meaningless sex that runs throughout the book. This fantasy foregrounds tenderness and commitment—values antithetical to those that have dominated Bret’s sex life and those of his peers in reality.

“[H]e tried to kill me before he jumped I loved him I loved him.”

After Robert dies, Bret becomes “hysterical,” and the absence of punctuation furthers his lack of control. The repetition of “loved” suggests that Bret had deep feelings for Robert and highlights his confusion during the climactic battle and in its aftermath.