Definition of Hyperbole
After Price leaves the dinner party at the end of the first chapter, "April Fools," Patrick confronts his girlfriend Evelyn. Patrick is "fairly sure that Timothy and Evelyn are having an affair," but given Patrick's own infidelity, he does not seem especially disturbed about it. In fact, he thinks Price is "the only interesting person I know," and, ironically, tries to convince Evelyn to just go for him instead. But Evelyn rebuffs Patrick's statements by responding with a telling hyperbole:
“Why don’t you just go for Price?”
“Oh god, Patrick,” she says, her eyes shut. “Why Price? Price?” And she says this in a way that makes me think she has had sex with him.
“He’s rich,” I say.
"Everybody’s rich,” she says, concentrating on the TV screen.
“He’s good-looking,” I tell her.
"Everybody’s good-looking, Patrick,” she says remotely.
“He has a great body,” I say.
“Everybody has a great body now,” she says.
In the chapter "Deck Chairs," Patrick has dinner at the titular "California classic" restaurant with Courtney, as well as Anne and Scott Smiley. Anne wants a rum and Diet Coke, but Patrick recommends forcefully that she choose Diet Pepsi instead. His hyperbolic reaction is shocking:
Unlock with LitCharts A+“You should have the Diet Pepsi instead of the Diet Coke,” I say. “It’s much better. It’s fizzier. It has a cleaner taste. It mixes better with rum and has a lower sodium content.”
The waiter, Scott, Anne, and even Courtney—they all stare at me as if I’ve offered some kind of diabolical, apocalyptic observation, as if I were shattering a myth highly held, or destroying an oath that was solemnly regarded [...]
In the chapter "Killing Dog," Patrick tries to get Courtney to come to a dinner. Frustrated that she has other plans, Patrick leaves his apartment to go shopping and checks his mail on the way out of the building. He determines, with hyperbolic fury, that he missed a flier about a sale:
Unlock with LitCharts A+Vaguely disappointed, I made a few more calls, but only halfheartedly, opening today’s mail while doing so, and I finally hung up in midsentence when I came across a personalized reminder from Clifford, the guy who helps me at Armani, that there was a private sale at the boutique on Madison … two weeks ago! [...] dwelling over this loss while wandering down Central Park West somewhere around Seventy-sixth, Seventy-fifth, it strikes me profoundly that the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place.