How the media perpetuates our sympathy towards evil when it comes to men

By BELLA PETERSON — arts@theaggie.org 

Nothing is more powerful than an attractive face belonging to the wrong person — you may have heard it before: “pretty privilege.” What’s even more dangerous: when you have beauty, charm and all the natural advantages you would need in our society to get away with almost anything, but as a man. Pair that with a killer instinct, and you have yourself most of the leading, psychotic male characters we see in our everyday entertainment. 

But it’s just fiction, right? What could be so harmful about this kind of portrayal of serial killers? To really answer this question, we must first travel back to the year 2000, when America was introduced to their very own psycho heartthrob: Patrick Bateman. “American Psycho” was originally a novel published in 1991, written by Bret Easton Ellis. Both a satirical and horror novel, the book confronts the concept of the ideal American man as he navigates leading a double life. 

What was originally a piece of fiction written to open a discussion about psychology and gender has since devolved into something entirely opposed to that original idea. As the film ages, it receives a mixed interpretation from audiences — from women being infatuated with Christian Bale, who plays Bateman in the film, to young men online using the character as a picturesque bar they should all meet despite his very obvious flaws.

The film presents Bateman as completely dissimilar to what the audience views him to be. In multiple points of the story, it is revealed that Bateman’s view on reality is skewed — the truth that he is spoon-feeding to the audience is meant to be unreliable. Instead of questioning the character’s narration, the movie spawned a mass following of young males and beloved dedication from women. 

Despite the questionable reality of Bateman’s actions, murderous or just cruel, the character is posed to be a monster of sorts. His demeaning views against women and toxic thoughts towards masculinity are a constant state of mind. But, under the shroud of his natural good looks and effortless charm, how could the audience not fall in love? 

Once the world had gotten used to Bateman’s face, they were then met with a new handsome devil to be enchanted by: Dexter Morgan. The television show “Dexter” (2006) presented a new idea to the masses: What if a killer had a set of morals? The unique situation was not a hard one to get used to; with Michael C. Hall leading as the main killer himself, it wasn’t exactly an issue to be on his side. 

In the show, Dexter consistently repeats his values to the audience through constant narration: that he’ll only release his killer urges against other “monsters.” In doing this, he puts himself on a moral highground of sorts — arguing that the audience shouldn’t feel the urge to question him because, afterall, he’s only taking out the bad guys. 

As the show continues, there is a progression in Dexter’s character as he learns to become more and more human. The humanity in him is a key factor to garnering sympathy from the audience and the “killing thing” can really fade to the background when you see a guy have a soft spot for kids and his wife. 

The brutality seen in Dexter isn’t necessarily the same as the kind seen in Patrick Bateman — it doesn’t stem from a place of hatred or malice towards specific groups of people. In the eyes of fans, the general concept of taking out “monsters” is more of a good rather than an evil. The show was a big hit in its prime, lasting eight whole seasons and branching off into multiple spin-offs with — you guessed it — Dexter Morgan leading the show. One way or another, he keeps finding ways to come back. 

After the major success of “Dexter,” it should be no shock to anyone that a similar show then made its way onto the map in 2018: “You.” “You” can be related back to “Dexter” in a lot of ways — following yet another classically handsome male who believes that, despite his acts of violence, he is somehow above it all. For Joe Goldberg, there is always a way to rationalize his criminal acts. In the show, we see Goldberg not only embrace the life of a murderer, but the one of a stalker as well. 

In a way, he is a manifestation of both Bateman and Dexter. Goldberg’s violence stems from a possessive view of women, yet he somehow always manages to redeem himself in the eyes of the audience with his moral code. With his “nice guy” persona, it can be easy to forget just how wrong all his doings are. At first glance, many might see his acts of violence to be endearing, as they come from a place of defensiveness for whoever his “love interest” (or victim) may be that season. In reality, as the season progresses, he falls into a devolution of sanity where even the woman he claims to love falls into his path of violence. 

Villainous tropes have frequently evolved over the years, and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a good antagonist now and then. But, what happens is that slowly the audience finds themselves more and more willing to forgive the despicable actions that in real life so many would condemn. It isn’t hard for the lines between fiction and reality to blur together. The easier it gets for our sympathy to be presented, the easier it gets for killers like the men above to get away with their crimes. During the trial of Ted Bundy, a real man not so different from the ones described above, he weaponized his charm in an attempt to gain the trust of the jury. Before his trial, he used many of the same tactics as Joe Goldberg to lure his women to their gruesome ends. 

The uproar in praise these fictional men have received is not the fault of their creators.  The interpretation of these characters is a direct reflection of the issues at hand in our current society. Dexter Morgan, Patrick Bateman and Joe Goldberg’s false images are all manifestations of everything that is wrong with our current state of media literacy and our romanticization of anything we find visually appealing.  

It’s important to remember that not everything is as simple as it seems. We can’t help who we are attracted to or even who we find sympathy for, but we can remember that in the real world, men like this aren’t just handsome characters. They are a real evil that should be treated as such — pretty face or not. 

Written by: Bella Peterson — arts@theaggie.org

A handful of novels deserving of a spot on your bookshelf this season

By NATALIE SALTER—arts@theaggie.org 

Autumn often feels like the perfect time to delve into your reading list. As the weather cools and classes swing back in full, it’s easy to feel like disappearing into a good book. An autumn evening in bed while it’s pouring rain outside, with a mug of tea in one hand and a new read in the other, is a joy that is hard to beat.

Finding a book that is perfectly befitting of autumn’s cozy nights and overcast skies can make those evenings feel even more special. These three novels are right at home in the middle of fall; each so exceptional that you’ll find yourself struggling to put them down.

“Wuthering Heights” by Emily Brontë (1847)

An enriching and haunting tale of grief, generational trauma and the weight of the past, Emily Brontë’s stunning novel “Wuthering Heights” is a must-read for lovers of literature. Brontë spins a tale of unresolved agonies that tear their way into the present, as a new tenant finds himself unraveling the tangle of broken relationships that rose and fell between his own house and the estate on the nearby moors. 

A masterwork of the gothic style, a sense of mourning clings to every page of “Wuthering Heights” like creeping fog on the moors. The tempestuous relationship between the headstrong Catherine and the sullen Heathcliff is threatened by external and internal forces alike; what is left unsaid between them echoes outwards and pulls the ones around them into their tragedy. Brontë writes with incredible force, decisively exploring how abuse and grief send ripples of pain into future generations through just a handful of characters. 

Gothic novels are already best suited to being read in the colder, darker months of the year, and “Wuthering Heights” is so exceptional among them that it deserves top priority on your list for this autumn. Thrilling, tragic and ultimately, rather hopeful, “Wuthering Heights” is a stunning work of literature undeniably deserving of the title of “classic.” 

“A Darker Shade of Magic” by V.E. Schwab (2015)

In the world of “A Darker Shade of Magic,” there is not one London, but four. There is our utterly unmagical Gray London, the vibrantly magical Red London, the hopeless White London and Black London, who no one has entered or left in an eternity. Kell is gifted with blood magic, allowing him to traverse between these Londons as a messenger for Red London’s royalty. In secret, he collects keepsakes from the other Londons, a forbidden habit that threatens to shatter his life when he accidentally comes to possess a dangerous Black London artifact. 

An exceptional story of magic and its costs, the novel’s fascinating setting and rich narrative style will immerse you completely from the very first page. The novel’s characters —  the introspective yet courageous Kell, the bold Grey London cutpurse Lila, the mirthful Red London prince Rhy — are so complex and lively that they practically burst off of the page. And the mystery that Schwab creates will leave you furiously turning pages.

“A Darker Shade of Magic” is completely unlike anything else in the fantasy genre, and its magical mysteries make it a wonderful fit for your autumn reading list. Further, it’s the first in a trilogy, meaning that the enchantment doesn’t end here — you’re promised even more nights spent tearing through pages until the series’ very end. 

“The Haunting of Hill House” by Shirley Jackson (1959)

October is the best time of the year for indulging in what frightens you, and scary stories have long held an important place during the month. Ghosts and haunted houses, one of the most iconic bits of horror iconography, are a particularly fascinating way to both thrill readers and explore narratives of loss and unresolved pain.

Enter Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House,” a short yet memorable story about a mysterious estate and the brave residents who offer to investigate its secrets. The shy narrator Eleanor volunteers to stay in the house as an escape from the mundane misery of her life, and finds herself shockingly integral to the hauntings that occur there. This bone-chilling mystery unravels in increasingly strange and otherworldly ways throughout the novel’s pages.

In many ways, Jackson’s novel is a classic ghost story, with paranormal encounters aplenty, but it is equally so an enrapturing tale of personal relationships and self-discovery. The novel’s characters are as lively as the house is frightening, and their internal conflicts are just as fascinating as their external encounters. It’s an unexpectedly moving story, and just spooky enough to be best read in the middle of autumn’s darkest month. 

Though these three are standouts, the other entries from the genres they belong to are just as perfect for autumn. If you enjoy “Wuthering Heights,” exploring gothic literature may be worth your while; if “A Darker Shade of Magic” strikes your fancy, fantasy is always a wonderful choice for the colder months; and just like “The Haunting of Hill House,” scary stories are always best read in October. Don’t be afraid to expand your horizons beyond your usual genre selections — you may find a book that you’ll cherish long after the season has ended.

Written by: Natalie Salter—arts@theaggie.org

This effervescent album is ‘So Easy (To Fall in Love)’ with

By IQRA AHMAD — arts@theaggie.org    

Modern romance often feels like an endless negotiation: a constant balancing act between independence and intimacy, boundaries and longing, self-preservation and surrender. In a cultural moment where cynicism about love often passes for wisdom, Olivia Dean’s “The Art of Loving” arrives like a tender rebuttal. The British soul-pop singer doesn’t simply pen ballads about desire or heartbreak; she sketches the fragile mechanics of how people try, fail and keep trying to care for one another.

The album opens with the brief but poignant title track, “The Art of Loving (Intro),” a hushed invocation that feels like Dean is inviting listeners into her private diary. Rather than launching into grandeur, she sets the tone with restraint — love, she suggests, isn’t fireworks and sparks so much as quiet, daily devotion. This patience carries into “Nice To Each Other,” a deceptively simple request that lands like a revelation in a world addicted to the “nonchalant” persona. With warm and conversational vocals, Dean reframes romance not as spectacle but as the radical practice of gentleness.

On “Lady Lady,” she claims her space with grace, offering an anthem for feminine dignity. It’s about trusting yourself and the process. There’s no bluster here, just quiet confidence layered over mellow grooves. 

By contrast, “Close Up” is an act of intimacy, a track that draws in toward the listener like a soft confession. Its minimal instrumentation mirrors its emotional nakedness. She explores the dissonance between intimacy and emotional distance, a reminder that love thrives in the vulnerable spaces where nothing is hidden.

Dean has always excelled at writing about the subtleties of emotional dynamics, and “So Easy (To Fall In Love)” showcases her knack for capturing both joy and danger in the same breath. The song is brimming with lightness, but its fragility keeps it grounded — falling in love may be effortless, but staying there is the real work. That theme turns darker on “Let Alone The One You Love,” where Dean confronts the bitter irony of hurting the very person you’re supposed to protect. Her delivery aches with guilt, as if she’s holding the pieces of a relationship she can’t quite glue back together.

Perhaps the album’s boldest track is “Man I Need,” a soulful song that demands attention. Dean paints yearning as an act of courage, unafraid to ask for what she wants.  

“Something Inbetween,” meanwhile, captures the purgatory of uncertainty, a half-state of intimacy and distance that feels like the emotional cousin of the “situationship.” Its hazy production mirrors the limbo it describes.

The album swells into bolder territory with “Loud,” a cathartic outburst where Dean refuses to be muted or minimized. While much of the record leans toward tenderness, this track erupts with unfiltered defiance, which relays the dynamic quality of her artistry. 

She reins it back in with “Baby Steps,” a gentle meditation on healing, patience and incremental progress. Love, as Dean reminds us, is not a leap but a slow practice of learning each other’s rhythms.

“A Couple Minutes” stands as one of the project’s most heartbreaking songs. Here, the scarcity of time becomes a metaphor for the fleeting nature of connection. The sparse arrangement leaves room for Dean’s voice to linger, as though she’s stretching each second into eternity. 

The final track, “I’ve Seen It,” is a quietly devastating conclusion. It’s not a fairytale ending, nor a tragedy, but a sober acceptance that she has seen love in all its forms, whether that’s tender, fractured or euphoric. 

What makes “The Art of Loving” so heartfelt is not its grandiosity but its restraint. Dean doesn’t mythologize love as an unattainable fantasy, nor does she surrender to the jadedness of our era. Instead, she approaches it like a craft, where love is imperfect, ongoing and put together by moments of beauty and moments of failure. Her voice, smoky and luminous, makes vulnerability feel like its own kind of strength.

Olivia Dean has always been a storyteller of the heart, but here she cements herself as something more — a cartographer of intimacy. “The Art of Loving” maps the jagged terrain of connection without flattening it into cliché. It is not an instruction manual or a happy-ever-after fantasy, but something more rare. It’s a portrait of love as it actually is: messy, tender, fleeting and worth every ache.

Written by: Iqra Ahmad — arts@theaggie.org