Michel Houellebecq and the cosmic nothingness

Javais interrupted my reading of The Possibility dune island, Michel Houellebecq, because it claimed that the deep sky vacuum was evident; but seeing that in a recent interview with the BBC he said he was nostalgic for lémerveillement of childhood, and the time when he composed epic poems modeled on Tolkien and Hugo, I lai recovery. He also claimed to worship Song of the Albigensian Crusade, which for me is also a great text. And then he said that the last third of this dune island possibility was what he had achieved more beautiful, which was closest to the poetic prose of which he had a secret ambition.

And indeed, it has a remarkable ability to present a clear, simple, clear, controlled, futuristic fantasies; French science fiction, in this regard, often fell into an excessive realism. The last scenes reminiscent of the first Niourk, Stefan Wul: neo-human Daniel25 runs a world devastated and drained. But while Wul finished his story with the creation of a bewildering new world, Houellebecq is content to immerse his hero in vain daydreams, in which everything is undifferentiated. Lintelligence, lérudition the second allows him to introduce the concepts of the dune cleanly Western philosophy. And he knows how to make poignant inner lévocation: the drama of the man who aspires to a wonderful world full of love, unable to find it, is well expressed. It benefits in this regard from the classical tradition revives the danalyse novel by Madame de Lafayette, or with the root pieces. Even its clones have a psychological depth; But their emotions are eased.

There are in addition more sorrow than cynicism. The inner light, desperately abstract, inaccessible, creates a true poetry.

Naturally, I found many generalities stated by this author absurd. He claims for example that everyone admeshiva_30.jpgt that the man is born, lives, dies alone; but not here: there quau within the materialistic thinking quon ladmet, especially in that which is cultivated in Paris: because in the lower classes, or America, it strives to fill the void with illusions related machinery or family tradition. Houellebecq says he, Plato and St. Paul have erred when they spoke of the flesh quHéphaïstos single in the first, Christ for the second, would beings who are loved: for him, pure illusion. In a pinch, he believes in miracles more machines through its clones; but even they are not the dream world: beings ideals, called the Future, remain uncertain projection.

Which is reminiscent of both abstract such that they are drawn to the bottom of Racine's tragedies again. Back then in France we did not believe in their existence; but dared sometimes assimilate the angels give them a semblance of reality. This vagueness is also that of Houellebecq.

Lange guardian, in fact, prevents the man feels alone in many traditions. The Qur'an says that he accompanied the man all his life, noting its actions on a book that he has put to death; Francis de Sales was going in the same direction; and Asia, one is always surrounded desprits, or Buddha even physically isolated, the man is never alone. But to the union with final Letre loved going on in the mystical tradition by that feeling with Dunion lange: soul sister is the materialization of it. Teilhard de Chardin, whose Houellebecq says the greatest evil wrongly said that to the union with Christ through the entrance of humanity into a single body; to the union with the creator god refers to intimate to the union with the spirit of the universe. It is wrong for the man everyone is born, lives and dies alone, but our writer proceeds to disparagingly of Paris: he neglects the opinions it finds too contemptible to be considered; it's not as if they nexistaient. He says dailleurs lIslam, last bastion of old religiosity, will eventually also by subdued under lextension of this mystical materialism represented in his book by Elohimites, offering himself to remake the human being and give him a physical eternity.

It has a mechanistic vision of life, inherited from Descartes, which seems rather grotesque - even if in some circles it also seems obvious! I must say that in large cities the machines and buildings and roads drawn with chalk take such a place quon forget the specificity of life: it is reduced to mathematicism which sest over the landscape over time. Houellebecq is a victim of this phantasmagoria, this temptation to create, from lintelligence, a new world. It therefore takes sen to ecology, quen fact he does not understand at all.

It is generally neoclassical: romanticism is mostly speech. No image will ultimately crystallized.