This book is crazy. The entire time I was reading it, it was this heartbreaking, insanely QUIET way of writing that was incredibly real and beautifully French. But then the last chapter and epilogue came along and it was as if a giant shift occurred and everything you knew was just some tiny tiny part of a totally different thing. And not in the usual mind-blowing cliché suspense sort of way. I mean really just creatively and stylistically, this was shocking. Sudden real life sci-fi, my friends.
In the majority of the book, life can only be described as molasses. Slow, sickly with large doses, and saccharine in a stifling (and perhaps somewhat artificial) sort of way. It's true to the nature of one's every day without trying to liven it up for the sake of the reader and I like that about it. Tastes of gorgeously rendered fragments about science aren't bad either.
Such tragic characters! With every word, your heart gets a little bit heavier but you lap it up with relish. I don't think the intent is to feel sorry for these people; I at least didn't. You respect them for embodying the true, sorry face of humanity without losing integrity. Houellebecq's treatment of these desperately flawed characters is almost impeccable with their ability to voice the insecurities and unhappinesses that every adult has. Also, very clearly, he is such a smart man and it would be one heck of a thrill to be able to see inside his mind.
