Death Proof who rode

Michel Houellebecq advanced his pen on the boulevard of death rode. Everything smells of death in this novel. The characters are enclosed on themselves. Their end is tragic. There is no hope other than in an excessive materialism. Everything is bathed in an atmosphere of unbridled sex or branlitude, foutrerie and partouzage are the top highlights of enjoyment. If there is not this the opposite extreme points the way of the narrowest scientific rationalism or the human being is reduced to a molecular assembly that can be manipulated at will. By this bias, the author buries homo occidentalis kind libertine sixty-eighter, bury Western civilization in the final entrenchments it is selected from the last gasps of the twentieth century. This novel is steeped in perfectly horizontal in the total lack of hope, cynicism of the flesh, the nonsense that permeates the clueless beings tossed, ignoring even the meaning that must be given to their lives. Houellebecq is lucid about the discomfort of his contemporaries and expresses it with a force that sometimes borders on caricature.

Reading this novel fluid style, I thought reading a book on ethnography a distant society, as what is described is foreign to me. Houellebecq lives on a planet apart. His books arouse scandal because they call into question lifestyles adopted by those who now hold the reins of power and control of the media, that breathe-righteousness and resulted in limited words, those who make sure that people are no longer as isolated individuals each other by oceans of misunderstanding, elementary particles. Houellebecq force to look behind the curtain of smoke, and it is unpleasant, it scratches, it makes the heart ache. In this novel, was an overdose of buttock, descends in glandular depths, wetlands, human swamp. This is not really brilliant. It is black, caustic, and the reader has many temptations to close this novel that revolves around the navel or even lower. In this, Houellebecq stresses the lack of empathy in our individualistic society, shouts this flagrant lack of love that makes the beings roll without caution on the death boulevard rode and collide and get damaged in the end race.

A lucid novel and dark at once.

Watchman