Happy New Year, Fam!
And welcome back to Field Research, an email newsletter featuring informative and entertaining takes at the intersection of art, business, and culture by Amran Gowani, author of Leverage.
It’s been a minute, and I hope everyone enjoyed (or survived) the holiday season. In today’s action-packed issue I review and cautiously recommend the novel American Psycho, provide an update on Leverage’s path to publication, illuminate one of the key risks when short selling a security, and explain some changes to how this newsletter will operate in 2025 — and beyond.
Enjoy the show.
I. TRACK OF THE DAY
Note: This track is an all-time classic. Most of the lyrics are incredible, but some are incredibly problematic. Listen accordingly.
II. READ: AMERICAN PSYCHO
Bret Easton Ellis’ appalling, controversial, and viciously satirical novel American Psycho, published in 1991, follows the exploits of trust fund yuppie Patrick Bateman. By day, he’s a hotshot investment banker with a penchant for haute couture fashion and a passion for pop music. By night, he masquerades as a psychotic serial killer whose unslakable bloodlust propels him to commit increasingly depraved — and increasingly preposterous — murders of co-workers, escorts, the homeless, and more.
What killed: Bateman’s narrative voice, which is written in the deep first-person and sails along in the present tense, is banal, debauched, grotesque, hilarious, shocking, and unforgettable. The story bounces haphazardly from tedious explanations of men’s fashion (e.g., Bateman’s tutorials on when to wear pocket squares, sweater vests, and argyle socks), to deep dives on eighties pop music (e.g., Bateman’s technical yet whimsical discographic analyses of Phil Collins, Whitney Houston, and Huey Lewis and the News), to visceral and utterly unhinged descriptions of torture and murder, which escalate in depravity and intensity as the story unfolds. To be clear, the violence described in American Psycho is horrific and demands a strong constitution to process. That said, what starts as standard slasher prose eventually becomes so disgusting, so reprehensible, and so vile the reader stops taking the novel seriously and starts laughing along maniacally. By slowly inuring us to Bateman’s outrageous and psychotic behavior, Ellis depicts the villainous protagonist’s descent into madness and cleverly critiques the inexorable, inescapable horrors of rapacious, unregulated capitalism.
What dismembered: The novel not-so-subtly satirizes the excessive consumerism and materialism of the eighties by having Bateman obsess over the clothes and fashion choices of the people around him. In every scene — even the mutilation and murder set pieces — the narrator describes each character’s coat/jacket/dress, tie/blouse, slacks/skirt, and socks/shoes, plus any pertinent accessories, while always denoting the style and name-dropping the designer. It’s a fun gimmick at first, but quickly becomes cumbersome.
What repulsed: I could stomach the breathtaking misogyny, the virulent racism, the repugnant homophobia, and the revolting violence, but the aspect of the novel which totally disgusted me was Bateman’s repeated Stanning of POTUS 45/47-elect. The sociopathic narrator fawns over the present-day leader of the MAGA movement’s every move and clearly views the past and future POTUS as an aspirational figure. In context, during the late eighties and early nineties, this makes sense. With his hot wives, salacious sidepieces, and ostentatious displays of wealth, the former reality TV star was once a mainstay of New York City nightlife and a “Page Six” staple, and young, impressionable men widely regarded him as someone worth emulating. Nonetheless, reading a quarter-century old novel and still being burdened by the Fox & Friends superfan’s overbearing presence proved disconcerting. It reminded me of just how long the profitless purveyor of steaks, vodka, and casinos has been a blight on American culture. Worse still, today’s lonely, disaffected young men continue to view the angry orange boomer as an avatar for success, which makes American Psycho a distressing, disturbing, and topical read.
Final verdict: I quite enjoyed American Psycho, but I’m also deeply, deeply unwell. If you’re put off by graphic violence, this novel is not for you. That said, if you look past the cartoonish and nightmarish prose, and interrogate the wicked satire beneath the surface, I think you’ll find a lot to love. If nothing else, the novel is unique in the truest sense, and that alone makes it worth a look.
Related media: The film adaptation of American Psycho was released in 2000 and rocketed Christian Bale, who played Bateman, to superstardom. I remember watching and hating the movie when I was in college, but after reading the original source material I suppose the film deserves an encore viewing. In any case, the novel — like all great novels — probes deeper into Bateman’s motivations and psyche and is surely the superior vehicle for his story.
III. A POEM ABOUT: RESOLUTIONS
Title: Intrinsic motivation
The arbitrary turn
of the arbitrary calendar
inspires you
to be,
and
to do,
better.
You'll fail,
because your resolutions,
like your reasons,
are
vain,
superfluous,
fleeting.
Substantive change
starts
in the soul.
IV. PRE-ORDER: LEVERAGE
My debut novel Leverage — a propulsive, darkly satirical, and grimly topical Wall Street thriller — will be published by Atria Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, on August 19, 2025.
I’m in the process of copy-editing the novel and so-called “first pass” pages will be produced shortly thereafter. If all goes according to plan, the first physical versions of the book (e.g., “galleys”) will be available by late February. I’ll then be able to beg big-time social media influencers for reviews and hella famous authors for blurbs.
Speaking of the latter, the international bestselling thriller writers Elizabeth McCullough Keenan and Greg Wands, whose forthcoming novel Trust Issues will be published on January 281, provided this humbling endorsement of the novel:
“Told in a dazzling, wildly assured narrative voice, Leverage is a by turns tense and hilarious thriller set against the backdrop of a financial crisis which doubles as a sly dissection of the exploitation and structural inequity buttressing that very system. Amran Gowani’s debut—part social satire, part tale of self-discovery, and part love letter to hip hop culture—announces the arrival of a writer to be reckoned with.”
If you’re planning to purchase and read a copy of Leverage, and you’re willing to snag a pre-order, you can do so at these fine (or not-so-fine) retailers:
Your local independent bookstore
For better and worse, pre-orders make a big difference. Strong pre-launch interest generates enthusiasm and excitement within the literary ecosystem and could translate into more marketing muscle from my publisher.
Thanks always for your support, Fam!
V. JARGON JUNCTION: SHORT SQUEEZE
In Field Research, Vol. 2, Issue #5, published on December 6, 2024, I detailed the nonsensical mechanics of short selling. I accomplished this extraordinary feat by creating a propriety case study which included a bogus “AI” company called Rent Seeking Analytics, a techno-libertarian douchebag named Peter Thiel, and a broken business model built around annual paid subscriptions lol!
In today’s edition of Jargon Junction, I’m detailing one of the biggest risks traders face when shorting a stock: a so-called short squeeze.
Note: For space and clarity, I won’t rehash all the gory details of the original case study. To fully understand the following example, I suggest reading or reviewing the previous edition of Jargon Junction by clicking HERE.
Recall in our case study we’d shorted 100 shares of Rent Seeking Analytics stock at $100.00 per share. We pocketed $10,000 from this transaction and, based on our short thesis, we expected RENT’s market price to decline to $60.00 per share after reporting dogshit earnings.
Had this scenario played out, we would’ve booked a $3,500 profit (e.g., we would’ve sold $10,000 of borrowed shares, bought back $6,000 of shares in the open/secondary market, and paid our broker Davos Man Inc. $500 in “borrowing” costs; or $10,000 - $6,000 - $500 = $3,500).
Let’s now imagine a situation where, unfortunately, our original bet backfires. For example, assume during Rent Seeking Analytics’ quarterly investor call, rather than simply reporting dogshit earnings due to its fundamentally broken business model, the dystopian tech firm shocks its investors by announcing a strategic partnership with a plucky little online bookstore called Amazon.com.
Pretend, per the transaction terms, Amazon plans to acquire a 40% equity stake in Rent Seeking Analytics and the two companies also announce an unexpected joint venture: they plan to 1) leverage Rent Seeking Analytics’ “artificial intelligence” software to illegally collect purchasing and biometric data from Amazon’s customers and 2) sell this stolen data to online advertisers and government intelligence agencies. In other words, a business model which works.
What would happen to the market price of RENT after this announcement?
The partnership with and investment by Amazon would give “the market” confidence in Rent Seeking Analytics’ technology and signal a probable future acquisition by The House of Bezos. Both dynamics would cause RENT’s stock price to soar2.
For simplicity, let’s assume RENT’s market price jumped from $100.00 to $150.00 on the news. This would be exceedingly bad for us, and also all the other traders who’d bet the fraudulent tech company was about to poop its pants.
Any- and everyone who’d shorted RENT stock would be forced to rush into the open/secondary market and buy back shares to “cover” their short positions and mitigate their losses.
If a significant number of punters had made the same bet we had — highly likely owing to the “efficiency” of the market — then a bunch of glorified gamblers (including us) would need to buy RENT shares at the same time. Of course, everyone’s aggressive buying in the open/secondary market would increase the demand for available shares, reduce the supply of available shares, push the stock price higher3, and exacerbate the losses suffered by short sellers.
When a shitload of short sellers all need to buy stock at the same time to cover their bets gone bad, the phenomenon is called a “short squeeze,” and the financial damage can be catastrophic.
In our case, we’d be forced to purchase 100 RENT shares at $150.00 per share — for a total expenditure of $15,000 — and return those shares to Davos Man Inc., the broker where we originally borrowed them. When all was said and done, we’d be looking at a $5,500 loss (e.g., we sold $10,000 of borrowed shares, bought back $15,000 of shares in the open/secondary market, and paid Davos Man Inc. $500 in “borrowing” costs; or $10,000 - $15,000 - $500 = -$5,500).
Mercifully, this concludes our short selling module. I know these past two editions were painful, but this information will serve you well as both reader of Leverage and observer of modern-day financial madness.
VI. SOMETHING: BASIC
Readers familiar with the Substack platform and adept at using its social media features may have noticed I turned off the ability to “like,” “comment,” and “re-stack” this post4.
In fact, I turned off those functions for all past and future posts, too. I also deleted the Substack app, nuked all of my “Notes” in Substack’s Twitter knock-off5 — which is likewise called “Notes” — streamlined the number of publications I’m recommending, and shut down Substack’s built-in direct messaging feature.
You might be wondering: Why is this misanthrope being more misanthropic than normal?
I’m not! I swear. Let me explain.
I’ve been using Substack for almost three years and, on the whole, I’ve enjoyed the experience. This platform introduced me to much of my literary fam, and for that I’ll be forever grateful.
However, each time Substack expands its technology offering — smartphone app, social media platform, podcasting tools, live video integration, etc. — it moves farther away6 from its core value proposition: helping creators build, distribute, and, for the very brave or very foolish, monetize7 an email newsletter.
The changes I mentioned above are intended to restore this newsletter’s basic promise. I send a missive via email, and you get to choose from a tried-and-true menu of options:
If you want to praise or excoriate me8, ask a question, or let me know you pre-ordered a copy of Leverage, hit reply.
If you think a co-worker, friend, or family member would like to sign up for this lunacy, press forward.
If you despise this newsletter and wish I was dead, maliciously mash your teeth and gently tap unsubscribe.
No algorithms, apps, or social networking agita required.
VII. UP NEXT
I hope to publish one more issue of Field Research in January, though the exact date remains TBD. In the meantime, I’ll be shitposting on Bluesky and triggering former MBA classmates on LinkedIn.
Stay frosty out there.
Amran
My pre-order’s been placed.
This would occur even if Rent Seeking Analytics reported dogshit earnings. The market always looks forward and only cares about future results.
Supply and demand are the true stalwarts of finance and economics.
If that’s you, good eye. If you have no idea what a “Substack” is, keep living right.
This incisive post by Brandon Taylor captured the creeping sense of annoyance and frustration I’ve been feeling with Substack and catalyzed my decision to disentangle this newsletter from the platform’s social media elements.
Sadly, Substack’s flirting with a full-blown enshittification death spiral.
You should only monetize your newsletter if you’re super famous and/or willing to adjudicate every facet of the culture war — in bad faith, obvs.
I immensely enjoy hearing from readers and I’m always amenable to feedback. Reach out anytime.