Roman naturalistic or realistic?

Vernon Subutex is a former store pretty cool; his shop did not resist the present world. It survives in his Paris apartment Completion day the bailiffs arrive because he has not paid his rent for too long.
With danciennes relations, Vernon will play the card of resourcefulness. But the D system na quun time and sofa bed of old pals the inning before the Franprix, it ny has not quun.
As a road movie without road but with metro, Despentes leads the reader to the heart of Paris, to meet lifelike characters. Follow the guide, I have named Vernon Subutex.
Vernon Subutex, geek quarantine hit well who was suspended the RSA laccro to Facebook and social networks (thread of history), Vernon Subutex, I said, who in turn met a trader who talks like it vomits, a former porn star, a bulimic journalist, Patrice knocking his wife, a poet but deformed SDF, a girl wearing a headscarf as is its crisis dadolescence his old friend Xavier turned reac also taken up contact with The hyena that had met in lon Apocalypse Baby.
Well, Virginie Despentes is in top form. Each chapter of a particular character. Vernon, the philosopher poet on the edges with his phrases that kill "past 40 years, everyone looks like a bombed city"; Hyena now bump on internet rotting demand this or that artist cans via a profile directory; Marie-Ange who lost his son because of the dope and so many others.
All these characters come to life and, penned rhythmic Despentes form the final radiography of the city and society in 2015: Why cloud the issue? Extreme right, lintégrisme, drugs, alcoholism, the money at all costs, insecurity, the sores, the frustrated, the guys who beat their wives but who are not offered much to share discussion groups all that exists . Needless to ostrich. Zola as a twenty-first century, we Despentes book France in crisis on a meal tray.
In line dApocalypse Baby, for which Despentes received the Renaudot, Vernon Subutex will make you page after page, cry or laugh, or you gnaw your brake cum shamelessly from the jaws of the world.

I think this is the most personal novel of Despentes generation with especially the last three pages that seem straight out, not from the mouth of a character of the author but from the mouth of the author itself. I admit I reread three times in three pages ... "I'm ... I'm ... I'm ..." as an anaphora ...

Subsequently in May?