Les Partícules elementals

This book was a strange mixture of philosophy and science - "big ideas" with a tenuous plot that stretched over the characters lifetime and out and out porn.

The story often seemed an inconsequential way to move between ideas or long detailed descriptions of solo/group sex. Yet somehow the story of these people was still interesting enough and the ideas were so grand that I kept wanting to read, and see where it was all going.

Not sure the book jacket adequately described the book at all, but on further consideration, not sure this book CAN be sufficiently explained.

Definitely do not regret reading it. ( )

Trash. Provocation masquerading as courage. Apparently one way to be considered a "serious" novelist is to use your god-given gift with the pen to compare gays to pedophiles. Not winning enough prestigious literary awards? Ramp it up by comparing black people to baboons. When all else fails, make every woman in your book either a whore or hag who doesn't really speak much. Though you shouldn't waste time thinking about women when you could be writing a masturbation scene, or a pages-long, equally masturbatory monologue about philosophy, always, ALWAYS, describe the exact shape and size of their breasts. This is called characterization. As soon as possible after describing their breasts, kill them off. And make sure that it is absolutely clear that the point of their death is to be a turning point in the development of the male POV characters.

Besides being offensive as hell, this book also shows why we don't like the "novel of ideas." They are always tedious and condescending, as this book is. Also the ideas are dogshit and have aged terribly. Houellebecq is a reactionary. His big thing is the decline of the west. If he had his way the sexual revolution would have never happened and there would be no muslims in Europe. Love it. Loooooveeee it. ( )

not cynical. ( )

Exceptional storytelling and narrative. Houellebecq dissects the post-baby-boom generation ruthlessly in a novel about a future genius and his brother, who are essentially two sides of the same person. Often brilliantly funny, sometimes affectionate, occasionally grim, always crass. Houellebecq has been criticised for chauvinist attitudes in his books but I felt this one worked as a valuable artifact of feminism (and a criticism of the coarser elements of male identity), as well as being a brilliantly spun yarn. ( )

I think I could do with a shower. ( )