The characters of Adrift on the Nile prefigure, by about two decades, the morally disgusting type of blasé, coked-up creeps made fashionable in the excessive '80s by Bret Easton Ellis in what amounts to his own unique Beverly Hills version/vision of Adrift on the Nile, his equally as disturbing and no less murderous (if not as artistically rendered) debut, Less Than Zero.
Mahfouz, of course, could differentiate and then articulate the subtleties and nuances of degradation and depravity among his set of elite counter-cultured losers more masterfully than Ellis, whose obnoxious numps all mostly bore the same set of debased characteristics (light cigarettes, fuck indiscriminately, ingest a pharmacy's-worth of amphetamines per day, say "dude" a lot) thus making them nearly indistinguishable addicted automatons one from another, so that his (Mahfouz's) characters are far more interesting and complicated which can't help but make for a more surprising -- and suspenseful -- plot. But, again, both books scream their uncannily similar nihilistic message out at the top of their hash filled lungs so well that I really wonder if maybe Mahfouz and Ellis were somehow pseudonymous or at least telekinetic belonging to some psychic masonic brotherhood somewhere, even despite the former being deceased now for almost a decade.
The point of this post? There is no point. No point other than perhaps this post is meaningless and ultimately an empty, unsatisfying pursuit that might drive me to take drugs and drink excessively, that I might numb myself from the empty reality of existence ahead. Like the reality ahead for the characters of Adrift on the Nile and Less Than Zero, and for that classic character (though ultimately redeemed), Raskolnikov.