Cząstki elementarne By Michel Houellebecq

This book doesn't care if you read it.

It doesn't care if you buy it or borrow it, if you deface it, if you understand it, if you have the remotest interest in it.

It doesn't try to be liked. It's far, far, far, too cool for school.


French author Michel Houellebecq, not caring.

And when I say that, I do NOT mean it's cool in a positive way. I found half of it dry, aloof, and didactic - like reading a doctorate level physics textbook. It felt imperious and full of itself. It felt over my head. The other half of it was full of somewhat shocking sexual debauchery that would be at home in a de Sade story. Lots of public masturbation, orgies, and licking various people in various places. Lots and lots of licking.

Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me Houellebecq was inspired by the Marquis de Sade, whose writings similarly alternate between long, philosophical rants and naughty Libertine caprices. De Sade, though, I have to say, has a far more charming delivery.

The Elementary Particles follows two brothers Michel (the asexual scientist) and Bruno (the pervert) through their dreary childhoods and then their calamitous personal relationships. The story does contain promising hints of something alive (their mother was a free spirited hippie who spent time at a commune that her son later revisited) but it never quite got there, for me. It was all trapped in a test tube, handled by hands wearing latex gloves. A glacial reticence - the brothers' inability to love - is infused in this text.

I'm not too sure what to make of his attitude toward women, who he says are superior but who live unhappily until he kills them off.

At the end of the day, it's a far less interesting version of L'Étranger with a similar dose of existentialism, bleakness and distain for human relationships. This story rarely pulled me in, mainly because of the detached writing style which often resorted to the all-knowing narrator popping up in the midst of a somewhat interesting narrative to say what would happen in 15 years, or what happened 15 years previously. Then, using the boring device of either scientific or news articles, would fill in the story rather than letting the readers experience it. (Show, Don't Tell is such a basic rule in the writing world but apparently Michel Houellebecq didn't get the memo.)

That all said, I could be completely wrong about this book. And that's okay, because it really doesn't care what I think - it's all meaningless anyway, right?

**ADDENDUM**

In the interest of fairness, please also look at Manny's review. He does a better job than I at explaining what this book is about. Houellebecq using sexuality (Western Society's sick obsession with the quick fix) as an illustration for materialism is an interesting idea, even if it is mind-blowingly depressing. Cząstki elementarne Extraordinary, outstanding, and absolutely not-to-be-missed*!

* The Elementary Particles holds you captive like only the best of 'em can. Think-- a long, cold autumn afternoon sipping coffee and reading Never Let Me Go. Think-- Dan Brown# poolside. All of these experiences that could conceivably last one blissful, insatiable sitting (the novels that are not considered novellas, that is)-- this is one of 'em. The artistry is like a painting, the reading is like some immersive exercise that blends sex with study of molecular biology in new and intelligent ways. The two brothers are separated entities who belong to the same sphere of humanity. It is elegant & very very smart. Mr. Houellebecq, sir: I am your devoted FAN (I drag my gory knees on the ground, en route to the basilica of French Modern Literature-- a palace of gleaming rubies that reaches toward the bright summer sky)!!!

# This type of novel, this quality of work, inspires me to even mention Dan Brown. I mean, yeah... Dan Brown. I make reference to him with a smile--a vibrant optimism afforded only by the likes of wizards like Houellebecq! Cząstki elementarne Okay, I decided I would take a go at actually justifying my rating for this book, rather than just make half-hearted apologies at my preference for a so-absurdly misogynistic and, let's be frank, pornographic novel.

First of all, I like Houellebecq's unrelenting pessimism. It's far beyond nihlism - so more destructive and negative, so more emphatic in its rejection of bougeoise norms, of religion, culture, capitalism. This book (as well as the other Houellebecq I read, Platform) captures the bleak purposeless of modern life better than almost anything I can think of. As a recent college grad who for the first time in her life finds herself waking at 7:30 am each morning so she can go plug herself in to the grinding mechanics of capitalism; someone whose weekends consist of the churn of drunk-hungover-drunk-hungover, who struggles to find meaning in music, beauty, sex, religion, whatever -- I can relate to this. The emotionally unavailable scientist. The absolutely pathetic, lonely, sex-addicted failure. The petty, worthless little bureaucrat in Platform. I'm not, you know, depressed or anything, but I can share at least in some part their view of the world as bleak, lonely, and irredeemable except through very brief moments of relieved pain via drinking and sex.

Secondly, the book is darkly funny. Not amateurish darkly funny, because, I mean, this book is dark. The things in it that are funny are the things that have to do with the inevitability of death, the pointlessness of life, the drive for sex that is unsatisfied in pathetic, heartbreakingly inadequate losers -- are you cracking up yet? If not, you might not get it. The humor is subtle, and when I first read this book (in the original French), I missed a lot of the humor. But the humor is there - the question is whether or not the reader is capable of appreciating it. One of those laugh-if-you-don't-want-to-cry things.


Thirdly -- okay, yes, the book is misogynistic, maybe kind of racist, certainly anti-religion -- but at least Houellebecq is fair. His hatred with modern society is pretty blindly applied. The men in this book aren't exactly great upstanding characters, either, you know?


So, there you go : like I said, don't go telling the feminist sisterhood or my mom that I enjoyed this book. But if you're looking for some dark, high-brow pornography, and you have a strong stomach, this might be a good choice for you. Cząstki elementarne Wow. What an incredible book. The Epilogue makes a huge difference in how one might view it on the whole. It certainly did for me. I was getting so depressed by the end that I almost chucked it aside around the 90% mark because I felt a panic attack coming on. But I took a deep breath and I switched up my reading soundtrack and I pushed on and am very glad that I did. The Epilogue really clarifies so much that precedes it. Leading up to that point it is basically 100% bleak, and I mean truly, truly bleak--though extremely interesting and entertaining every step of the way.

There's a fair amount of gross sexual stuff along the way as well, but it's always presented in a detached, rather ungleeful way, and as such it has a point beyond mere shock and/or titillation that fully justifies its presence. To say this book is just about sexual frustration is to hugely miss the point. This is a BIG PICTURE book but carried out through a tightly crafted narrative mainly surrounding two brothers birthed from a massively disfunctional genetic pool with one shared parent: a terminally miserable, often nauseatingly sexually deviant literature professor named Bruno and a largely emotionless but harmless microbiologist in deep almost inhuman isolation named Michel.

The book covers so many subjects that I'm sort of dumbfounded and slow to begin relaying them all. Existential, cultural, scientific, philosophical, historical, etc. Consciousness, genetics, sex, death, physics, religion, cruelty, love, parenthood, childhood, adulthood, happiness, suffering, etc.

Despite the often searing and pitiless slings and arrows thrown at humanity, I think it is also a book that is deeply sympathetic to the desperate flailing, the absurd flaws, and the open wounds of humanity, self-inflicted and otherwise. Its final sentence is a straight up dedication to humankind, despite its many detailed failures and sufferings and defects, and despite the claim that a new and improved species must take its place.

I was holding a solid four star rating of this in my head until the final leg of the journey, around Section Three and the Epilogue. So if any readers who take my opinions as any sort of guide end up having trouble with it along the way, I implore them to press on. Cząstki elementarne Recently, I’ve been throwing 5* at the feet of a few French classics. However, I am not so lucky when it comes to contemporary French Literature. The Elementary Particles joins Beigbeder and Hervé Le Tellier on the DNF shelf.

It’s been a while since I gave up the struggle so my reasons for not enjoying this novel are a bit blurry. Well, I remember thinking: “This book is nasty”. The main characters are two half-brothers who managed to be also two horrible sexually frustrated men. There is quite a bit of obsessive sex in this novel, which is not usually a problem but the Sardonic way the author wrote about the subject put me off. This is another existentialism novel where the characters are quite incapable to have normal relationships. In the end, despite the subject, I could have enjoyed it if the writing were to my liking. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Cząstki elementarne

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Młody biolog, przesiadujący w nieskończoność nad swoją pracą, i jego przyrodni brat, pogrążający się w kryzysie psychicznym nałogowy konsument pornografii, uosabiają zdaniem autora dwa skrajne sposoby życia we współczesnej cywilizacji. Życie obu bohaterów i ich matki toczy się w świecie pozbawionym szczęścia i jakichkolwiek innych uczuć. Kiedy obsesje seksualne przywodzą jednego z braci na skraj obłędu, drugi pracuje nad genetycznym modelem nieśmiertelnej i bezpłciowej istoty ludzkiej. Książka łącząca elementy powieści obyczajowej, eseju i science fiction wywołała we Francji istną burzę, a nieprzyznanie jej autorowi nagrody Goncourtów porównywano z odrzuceniem przez jury Podróży do kresu nocy Céline’a. Cząstki elementarne


“Es bueno que sea usted reaccionario. Todos los grandes escritores son reaccionarios Balzac, Flaubert, Baudelaire, Dostoievski, todos reaccionarios. Pero también hay que follar, ¿eh?”
Se comulgue o no con él, hay que reconocerle que nunca aburre, que dice cosas bastante interesantes y que lo hace de una forma sumamente atractiva.

Houellebecq, o los personajes de Houellebecq (no sé cuánto de todo lo que aquí se dice está en su pensamiento y qué parte es parodia de esta sociedad desquiciada que retrata, una ambigüedad que posiblemente sea buscada) empieza afirmando que la naturaleza es, en esencia, perversa y con una ingeniería genética francamente mejorable.
“En conjunto, la naturaleza salvaje era una porquería repugnante; en conjunto, la naturaleza salvaje justificaba una destrucción total, un holocausto universal; y la misión del hombre sobre la Tierra era, probablemente, ser el artífice de ese holocausto.”
Y entre toda la abyección de la naturaleza, es el hombre (y pienso que el autor no usa el sustantivo como genérico de ser humano) quién se lleva la palma: “Homo homini lupus”, algo totalmente verificable desde la niñez.
“La brutalidad y la dominación, corrientes en las sociedades animales, se ven acompañadas ya en los chimpancés (Pan troglodytes) por actos de crueldad gratuita hacia el animal más débil. Esta tendencia alcanza el máximo en las sociedades humanas primitivas, y entre los niños y adolescentes de las sociedades desarrolladas.”
Vamos, que el hombre nace malo y quién debería atemperar sus impulsos, la sociedad, los hace aún peores. Y a partir de aquí sale el Houellebecq más reaccionario, el que nos dice que es nuestra sociedad, la proveniente del pensamiento «progresista» de los años sesenta, setenta, ochenta y noventa, la que encumbró a la juventud en lo más alto de la pirámide social y destruyó los preciosos valores morales de las generaciones anteriores con su “afirmación integral de los derechos del individuo frente a todas las normas sociales, a todas las hipocresías que según ellos constituían la moral, el sentimiento, la justicia y la piedad”, acelerando así de forma irreversible el proceso de corrupción de esta sociedad que ya empezó mucho antes, cuando occidente eligió el camino equivocado, “sacrificándolo todo (su religión, su felicidad, sus esperanzas y, en definitiva, su vida) a esa necesidad de certeza racional”. La religión perdió su fuerza como fuente explicativa del mundo y “ninguna sociedad es viable sin el eje federador de una religión cualquiera”. Toma ya.
“En otras épocas el ruido de fondo lo constituía la espera del reino del Señor; hoy lo constituye la espera de la muerte. Así son las cosas.”
Dos mediohermanos son los encargados de encarnar estas ideas sobre la cultura «joven», que el autor identifica con sexo y violencia, y la devoción por la ciencia moderna que “conlleva la individuación, la vanidad, el odio y el deseo” y que devoran poco a poco a todos los seres que no tienen como evitar el ineludible camino de la invalidez, la enfermedad y la muerte. Ambos hermanos fueron abandonados por sus madres, quedándose al cuidado de sus abuelas, y pretenden ser la clara evidencia de las nefastas consecuencias del abandono de los valores y de la familia tradicional: uno está obsesionado con el sexo y es asquerosamente reaccionario, y el otro es prácticamente asexual y asentimental, con una visión fría, “mecánica y despiadada” de la vida. Ambos infelices, ambos desagradables a su modo.
“En todos los aspectos, control genético, libertad sexual, lucha contra el envejecimiento, cultura del ocio, Brave New World es para nosotros un paraíso, es exactamente el mundo que estamos intentando alcanzar…”
El sexo será el sustituto posible, que no gratificante, de un amor inalcanzable, y la belleza y la juventud sus condiciones necesarias. Es por eso que el terror a envejecer nunca ha sido más intenso y generalizado que en la actualidad. Ni la muerte es más temida que la vida en un cuerpo deteriorado o no deseado.
“… llegará un momento en que la suma de los placeres físicos que uno puede esperar de la vida sea inferior a la suma de los dolores… Este examen racional de placeres y dolores, que cada cual se ve empujado a hacer tarde o temprano, conduce inexorablemente a partir de cierta edad al suicidio.”
La mujer es quién más sufrirá este estado de cosas (“… viven muchos años y sufren mucho… Pero siguen adelante, porque no logran renunciar a ser amadas. Son víctimas de esta ilusión hasta el final. A partir de cierta edad, una mujer siempre tiene la posibilidad de frotarse contra una polla; pero ya no tiene la menor posibilidad de ser amada”), y las que con su liberación sexual fueron parte del problema (“Nunca he entendido a las feministas... En pocos años conseguían transformar a los tíos que tenían al lado en neuróticos impotentes y gruñones. Y en ese momento, era matemático, empezaban a tener nostalgia de la virilidad”). Pero no son las que salen peor paradas, de hecho, a la mujer, a un tipo concreto de mujer, la baña en piropos (dulces, amables, cariñosas, compasivas, razonables, inteligentes, trabajadoras…). De los hombres todo lo que resalta es malo: su grotesca vanidad, su irresponsabilidad, su violencia innata, los considera incapaces de amar y los acusa de conocer únicamente el deseo, “el deseo sexual en estado puro y la competición entre machos”. Solo hay que comparar a los dos personajes masculinos de la novela con sus sacrificadas parejas.

La solución a este estado de cosas… bueno, esa la dejaré para que la descubran ustedes. Por radical e inhumana que les parezca, posiblemente, de existir, la solución no esté muy alejada de la que él anticipa, lo que no es en absoluto descartable en un futuro no excesivamente lejano.

En fin, la novela me ha gustado, más que en mi lejana primera lectura. Aunque me ha escandalizado más de una vez con su incorrección política y su cinismo, que no con el sexo y la violencia sin ser poca, y aunque pienso que se equivoca muy mucho en algunas de sus afirmaciones, no en todas, me ha hecho reflexionar y, debo confesar, también me ha divertido con algunas de las patéticas escenas en la que mete a sus protagonistas: le añado una estrellita a mi anterior puntuación. Cząstki elementarne (Η κριτική περιέχει ενύπνια ψιχία αποκαλύψεων πλοκής).



Ο κλονισμός των κλωνοποιημένων
•Θα μπορούσαμε να πούμε ότι συνολικά 12 σωματίδια αποτελούν τους βασικούς δομικούς λίθους του σύμπαντος, από τη γέννησή του μέχρι σήμερα. Όχι ακριβώς! Η σύγχρονη θεωρία που περιγράφει τον μικρόκοσμο, η κβαντομηχανική,  προβλέπει (και έχει αποδειχθεί πειραματικά) την ύπαρξη του αντισωματίδιου: σε κάθε σωματίδιο αντιστοιχεί άλλο ένα, με ίδια μάζα και αντίθετο ηλεκτρικό φορτίο. Ετσι ο συνολικός αριθμός των σωματιδίων διπλασιάζεται•

Ο θηλυκός
νέος Ωραίος Κόσμος είναι το όραμα του Ουελμπέκ ως μια θαυμαστή και ��ρομακτική ουτοπία.

Οι φυσικές μεταλλάξεις που αλλάζουν τον κόσμο μέσα στη διάρκεια της ιστορίας φτάνουν στο τρίτο μεταλλαγμένο κοινωνιολογικό πρότυπο.
Εδώ επικρατεί ο ατομικισμός και η υλιστική μίζερη κυριαρχία.
Πρέπει να εξαλειφθούν απαραιτήτως για να εξελιχθεί η ανθρώπινη οντότητα προς την ευδαιμονία και την τελειότητα.
Μοναδικό όπλο η επιστημονική κορύφωση της γενετικής.
Θα πρέπει να αποφασιστεί συνειδητά απο το ανθρώπινο γένος να αλλάξει ριζικά και μη αναστρέψιμα τα ατομικά συμφέροντα και το γνωστό και φυσικό τρόπο αναπαραγωγής.

Έτσι, αυτοβούλως όλοι οι άνθρωποι θα είναι αδέλφια... βιολογικά,πανομοιότυπα αδέλφια και συναισθηματικά..μόνο η αγάπη θα επικρατεί ανάμεσα τους. Όλοι ίδιοι.
Όλοι μεταλλαγμένα τέλειοι. Όλοι ένα γένος. Όλοι πραγματικά ενοχοποιημένοι και τέλεια κλονισμένοι ομοζυγωτικοί κλώνοι.

Η επιστημονική εξέλιξη φτάνει στη θεοποίηση με εφιαλτική κατάληξη.

Πανοραμικά κατεδαφίζεται ο δυτικός πολιτισμός. Εξαλείφεται η θρησκευτική ηθική και τα κοινωνικά πρότυπα.
Η ανδρική υπόσταση δέχεται τορπίλες ηδονικού εξευτελισμού.
Καταγγέλονται σαρκαστικά και καυστικά οι κοινωνίες των φιλελεύθερων οικονομιών και της αχαλίνωτης σεξουαλικής απελευθέρωσης ως καταστροφικές για τον δυτικό κόσμο του 20ου αιώνα.

Σύμφωνα με τον μάλλον τρομαγμένο και μοναχικά ευαίσθητο συγγραφέα αυτός ο κόσμος οφείλει να αντικατασταθεί απο τις μελλοντικές οντότητες
αφού οι παρελθοντικοί άνθρωποι που επέφεραν τον εκμαυλισμό των πάντων πρέπει να αντικατασταθούν απο τη μοριακή βιολογία της εθελούσιας αυτοκαταστροφικής κάθαρσης.

Ως τώρα,επικράτησε η σοσιαλιστική κοινωνία των ρατσιστών,των αντιοικολόγων,των λίγων που απολαμβάνουν τα πολλά και των πολλών που αρκούνται στα λίγα.
Παραφυάδες της γενιάς του '68 οι μειονότητες έχουν έντονη ερωτική ζωή και αχαλίνωτες ηθικά και σωματικά ηδονές και απολαύσεις. Έχουν εξουσία και απολαμβάνουν τα αγαθά ως κληρονομικό χάρισμα.

Αντίθετα η πλειοψηφία ξεσπάει στην πορνογραφία, τη στέρηση, την αυτοϊκανοποίηση και την υλική ανέχεια.

Βασικό χαρακτηριστικό είναι κατανομή της ηδονής.

Απο τη μια,η κουλτούρα της σεξουαλικής απελευθέρωσης με προϊόντα χίπικης φιλοσοφίας και φεμινισμού οδηγεί σε κάμπινγκ- παραθεριστικά θέρετρα και εναλλακτικέςδιακοπές όπου επικρατεί το ιδεώδες γ@@@@ε εαυτούς και αλλήλους χωρίς αύριο.

Και απο την άλλη η ασεξουαλικότητα,ο αυνανισμός και πορνογραφία ηθών και μέσων επιβίωσης. Εδώ βασιλεύει η αυτοϊκανοποίηση και όποιος αντέξει...

Και οι δυο παραπάνω κατηγορίες κοινωνικής μορφής είναι κατά συνέπεια δυστυχισμένες. Απομόνωση.
Έλλειψη επικοινωνίας. Μοναξιά.
Μιζέρια. Γερασμένα ψυχικά κορμιά. Ατομικισμός. Ματαιοδοξία. Υλιστική εξάρτηση. Έλλειψη ελπίδας. Γηρατειά. Θάνατος.

Τα αδιέξοδα του σύγχρονου ανθρώπου θα τα λύσει το όραμα του θηλυκού ωραίου κόσμου μέσω των στοιχειωδών σωματιδίων και τη νέα εξελιγμένη γενετική.

Το άτομο γίνεται θεός και αυτό το βιβλίο πέρα απο τον κυνισμό και την εφιαλτικά ρεαλιστική ωμότητα, είναι σύμφωνα με τον Ουελμπέκ αφιερωμένο στον Άνθρωπο.


Καλή ανάγνωση!
Πολλούς ασπασμούς! Cząstki elementarne This, the 'nasty writer' Michel Houellebecq's second book caused a stir. Me? I think it's great attacking/critiquing all - men, women, authority, the Right, the Left, New Agers, religion etc. no stone is left unturned, nothing is scared, in this tale of two half brothers having mid-life crisis as they see the world around them leaving them behind.

This is questionably an indelicate take on some of the causes of the disassociation of older White men and the ever changing modernising world? Some have called Houellebecq France's greatest living writer, I would concur! 8 out of 12... up from 3 and 2 out of 12 from my first 2 readings!

2018 read; 2012 read; 2007 read Cząstki elementarne You can interpret this book in several different ways. A lot of people view it as a depressing, hate-filled rant, filled with a really startling amount of unpleasant sex. I'm not saying that that's necessarily incorrect. In fact, my immediate association was with the fictitious books that Moreland invents in one of the Anthony Powell novels: Seated One Day at my Organ, by the author of One Hundred Disagreeable Sexual Experiences. But I think there are more interesting ways of reading Les Particules, which show that it's not as pointless as it first appears.

So, after considering it a while, I'd say that this is basically a book about sexual frustration. Bruno, the main character, has an extremely active libido, but is unfortunately not at all attractive; he's fat, ugly and lacks charm. He spends his days in a constant agony of unfulfilled desire. I recently read Hamsun's Hunger; the poor guy in Hamsun is broke and hungry, and no matter what he tries to think about he always comes back to money and food within a few minutes. Hamsun's very brave about showing how degrading this is for him. Bruno's plight is similar. He's not getting any sex, and that's all HE can think about. And in fact it's not unreasonable to argue that Houellebecq is being brave too in describing just how humiliating that is for him. The author could put it in general terms, or he could indirectly suggest it, but a detailed description of how Bruno masturbates over his algebra notes while watching girls on the train drives it home far more effectively:
Il prenait l'autorail de Crécy-la-Chapelle. Chaque fois que c'était possible (et c'était presque toujours possible), il s'installait en face d'une jeune fille seule. La plupart avaient les jambes croisées, une chemisier transparent, ou autre chose. Il ne s'installait vraiment en face, plûtot en diagonale, mais souvent sur la même banquette, à moins de deux mètres. Il bandait déjà en apercevant les longs cheveux, blonds ou bruns; en choisissant une place, en circulant entre les rangées, la douleur s'avivait dans son slip. Au moment de s'asseoir, il avait déjà sortit un mouchoir de sa poche. Il suffisait d'ouvrir un classeur, de le poser sur ses cuisses; en quelques coups c'était fait. Parfois, quand la fille décroissait les jambes au moment où il sortait sa bite, il n'avait même pas besoin de se toucher; il se libérait d'un jet en apercevant la petite culotte. La mouchoir était une sécurité, en général il éjaculait sur les pages du classeur: sur les équations de second degré, sur les schémas d'insectes, sur la production de charbon de l'URSS. La fille poursuivait la lecture de son magazine.
But why does Bruno feel this terrible, and what does it say about our society? Houellebecq has some interesting observations about how free-market economics have entered into people's personal lives; having also read Naomi Klein's The Shock Doctrine in the near past, this resonated rather well. In the economic sphere, Klein argues persuasively that the logical long-term result is a world where Dick Cheney and his immediate circle of friends own almost everything, and a good 40% of the world owns nothing. In the sexual sphere, the corresponding long-term result is a world where no one really wants to fuck anybody except Scarlett Johansson or Megan Fox (depending on whether they prefer blondes or brunettes), and will not even consider fucking anyone who isn't young and thin.

Bruno exemplifies this horrible state of being; thwarted sexual desire has turned his life into a living hell, and Houellebecq is psychologically credible in showing how it progressively destroys him, making him hate everyone and everything. One interesting angle is that the book contrasts the materialistic world-view that has him in its jaws against the traditional Christian world-view. It's probably not an accident that, when Bruno does in the end meet a woman who truly loves him, she's called Christiane. Here's another example of how the graphic descriptions of sex are not as gratuitous as they first appear. Bruno has just spent a very happy week with Christiane, but must leave:
Bruno avait déjà plié sa tente et rangé ses affaires dans la voiture; il passa sa dernière nuit dans la caravane. Au matin, il essaya de pénétrer Christiane, mais cette fois il echoua, il se sentit ému et nerveux. Joue sur moi dit-elle. Elle étala le sperme sur son visage et sur ses seins. Viens me voir dit-elle encore une fois au moment où il passait la porte. Il promit de venir.
In a Brigade Mondaine novel, this would just be pornographic. Here, it comes across as a rather moving scene. I felt very sorry for poor Christiane; it was already clear that things couldn't possibly work out well.

The part of the novel I found least engaging was the thread that followed Michel, Bruno's half-brother. Instead of experiencing life as one long torment of desire, Michel hardly feels desire at all. He becomes a biophysicist, and eventually finds a way to create an immortal race of asexual beings, which duly replace humanity. I wasn't very convinced by any of this, partly because Houellebecq seems to be unaware that biologists have spent a lot of time wondering about why it is that sexual reproduction is a good idea. It's an interesting story, and deserves to be treated with more respect. I don't think, however, that we need to discuss whether Michel's idea makes scientific sense; I don't believe Houellbecq is seriously saying that we should find a way to evolve away from sex, any more than Brecht in The Tutor is seriously suggesting autocastration as a solution. He's just saying that the pain that sex and love cause people is such that you're willing to consider an extreme solution in order to escape from it.

Unfortunately, Houellebecq has loaded up with scientific buzzwords, but doesn't seem to have any deep understanding, and I found the quantum mechanics much more irritating than the pornography. For example, I suppose that all the references to the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen gedankenexperiment are intended to suggest that Bruno and Michel are inextricably bound together, quantum-entangled in fact; their mother is the source, Bruno and Michel are the two electrons. But if you insist on a quantum-mechanical metaphor, a particle/anti-particle pair seems both more obvious and easier to understand; invoking EPR is basically just too fucking clever. Which is a reasonable criticism of the whole book in fact.

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I discovered yesterday evening that Les Particules is listed in 1001 Books To Read Before You Die. Well... I suppose I agree. Though I'm also warning you that it could significantly advance the date of your demise.

Cząstki elementarne It's a curious idea to reproduce when you don't even like life.

It's rare to come across a book filled with so pure of hate. At first I thought maybe it's was just some good old fashioned misogyny, with maybe a little bit of nationalism and Arab hating thrown in, but then something curious happened, the whole of society got thrown into the hate-fest that is this book. Hippies? Hate them a lot. Italians? Yep, really hate them, we don't say why we just do. Nature? Fuck it!! Sex? Love it but hate it. French Intellectuals? Oh really fuck those guys, especially Deleuze, but make it clear we don't like any of those guys from the 60's. 1968? Hahahaha, fucking assholes. Children? Masterbation fodder, or else just more fucking people. Growing old? Really hate it. People lying to themselves that they aren't old? Hate them so much too. Hate hate hate hate hate.

It might not sound possible but this book might possibly hate everything, the author / narrator doesn't even seem to place himself in any kind of position where it seems like he would be saying 'oh look at all of these poor shits!! If only there were more people like me in the world, a race of me's!! And I'll call them super-men!!! Nope, there is nothing Nietzschean here, rather it's all sort of the most pessimistic Kant imaginable. One were the ethics are based on total shit as an imperative.

But through all of this hate and the depressing feelings of the total waste of life we all are, and the simple fact that no one is going to be happy, it will elude us and the desire for happiness will only make us miserable; this book ends up being an interesting, and enjoyable read. Cząstki elementarne