Extension du domaine de la lutte

by Michel Houellebecq

Ville de banlieue, chambre anonyme, petit travail, salaire correct, peu d'intérêt, pas d'amis, de vagues relations. Aucune envie, plus de désir, quelques habitudes. C'est tout un monde de désespoir et de non-sens qui s'ouvre en même temps que commence ce roman des perdants et des abandonnés, ceux qui ont érigé la routine en mode de vie, le renoncement en principe, le défaitisme en valeur. On pourrait en rester là : mais l'auteur va tellement loin dans sa peinture clinique, crue, désenchantée, qu'on relève la tête et le défi. Plus que son antihéros, en tout cas : c'est du moins ce qu'il faut se souhaiter...

Écrit avant Les Particules élémentaires, le roman sulfureux qui fit la notoriété de Michel Houellebecq, Extension du domaine de la lutte est de la même veine : plume acérée, aride, assassine. On en sort laminé, mais bien déterminé à continuer la lutte, et c'est là que tout le paradoxe de la littérature prend un sens. Un roman saisissant à lire avec précautions. --Karla Manuele

Genres: Fiction, France, Literature, Contemporary, French Literature, Novels, Roman

155 pages, Mass Market Paperback

First published January 1, 1994

About the author

Michel Houellebecq (born Michel Thomas), born 26 February 1958 (birth certificate) or 1956 on the French island of Réunion, is a controversial and award-winning French novelist. To admirers he is a writer in the tradition of literary provocation that reaches back to the Marquis de Sade and Baudelaire; to detractors he is a peddler, who writes vulgar sleazy literature to shock. His works though, particularly Atomised, have received high praise from the French literary intelligentsia, with generally positive international critical response, Having written poetry and a biography of the horror writer H. P. Lovecraft, he brought out his first novel Extension du domaine de la lutte in 1994. Les particules élémentaires followed in 1998 and Plateforme, in 2001. After a disastrous publicity tour for this book, which led to his being taken to court for inciting racial hatred, he went to Ireland to write. He currently resides in France, where he has been described as "France’s biggest literary export and, some say, greatest living writer". In 2010 he published La Carte et le Territoire (published the same year in English as The Map and the Territory) which won the prestigious Prix Goncourt; and, in 2015, Submission.

Reviews

[Valeriu Gherghel · Rating 4 out of 5]

„Să considerăm, mai întîi, vaca bretonă... [În cazul ei], totul pare să indice o profundă unitate existențială, o identitate între ființa-în-lume și ființa-în-sine...”.

A fost o vreme în care Michel Houellebecq chiar a scris cărți bune, Extinderea domeniului luptei, de pildă... Ce conține romanul? Un pic de eros fantasmat, puțintică meditație și discuție cu privire la chestiunile arzătoare ale zilei (era, totuși, în 1994), din care spicuim:

1. Declinul iubirii-pasiune (iubirea inventată de trubaduri în secolul al XII-lea), confuzia dintre sexul cel mai vulgar și amorul eterat, romantic, de palpitații și suspinuri; dispariția completă a amorului romantic; amenințarea frigidității (a se vedea personajul Veronique).

2. Indiferența individului obișnuit - toți am devenit de multișor niște indivizi obișnuiți, societatea abundenței ne-a trecut la comun, ne-a uniformizat, nu mai există deosebiri între hominizi, iar cînd apare Diferitul, precum în cartea lui Houellebecq, îi sucim gîtul sau îl trimitem la balamuc - indiferența, zic, față de un alt individ obișnuit și a tuturor indivizilor obișnuiți față de ei înșiși și față de toți ceilalți indivizi obișnuiți;

3. Greața, plictisul, neantul (cu N mare), vidul, nimicul (cu N mare), scîrba (temele lui Sartre, Camus, Ionesco, John Williams, da, chiar el); eu unul m-am cam săturat de aceste subiecte răsuflate; le-am făcut la școală; mi se pare suficient;

4. Absența comunicării într-o societate informatizată, care și-a făcut un Idol din informație și comunicare; muțenia universală;

5. Lipsa de compasiune, de milă, lipsa de idei, lipsa unui scop, absența unui ideal; constatarea dezabuzată a faptului că toate idealurile propuse de societate sînt goale, praf și cenușă;

6. Regresul mintal al oamenilor, al speciei umane în întregul ei;

7. Moda psihanalizei și a celorlalte terapii cognitiv-comportamentale, de grup, relațional-emotive etc. (și Philip Roth ia în derîdere practicile asociațiunilor de anonimi, literatura psihanalitică, de „dezvoltare spirituală”): faine și de tot hazul paginile consacrate femeii „în analiză”; am rîs pe înfundate, să nu mă audă nevasta; Houellebecq chiar avea haz (nu știu dacă-l mai are);

8. Epuizarea vitală a tuturor pămîntenilor, fără excepție, și presupusa epuizare vitală a speciilor încă necunoscute de pămînteni (asta am pus-o de la mine);

9. Misoginia; misandria; invidia; ura surdă, mocnită; disprețul;

10. Căutarea bezmetică a unui partener sexual volatil (de o seară, de o zi, de un ceas); lupta pentru cucerirea lui; extinderea acestei lupte, decăderea vechilor ritualuri de seducție, amurgul Occidentului etc.

Deci, ca să închei, romanul mi-a plăcut. Extinderea domeniului luptei este o carte bună (fără a fi o capodoperă). Mi-a plăcut și stilul de propoziții simple, seci, tăioase. De-o pildă: „Îl știu pe tipul ăsta [e vorba de Raphael Tisserand]; am pălăvrăgit de cîteva ori lîngă automatul de cafea. De obicei, spunea bancuri porcoase; presimt că această deplasare în provincie va fi sinistră”. Faptul că propozițiile țăcănesc așa (ca mașina de scris) nu m-a deranjat, mă îngrozesc, mai degrabă, frazele interminabile, acelea pe care scriitorul uită să le încheie, a trecut vremea lor...

Așadar. Un narator anonim povestește cîteva momente din biografia proprie (o călătorie, un Crăciun, un stagiu în spital) și o face cu ironie, umor și cinism. Dar nu exagerează cu cinismul. Personajul se simte diferit de ceilalți, dar nu poate afla de unul singur în ce constă diferența dintre el și oricare altul. Reflectează, gîndește la una și alta. Are 30 de ani, lucrează ca agent într-o firmă de servicii informatice, este singur și nu prea pricepe de ce. La sfîrșitul cărții ajunge într-un stabiliment de alienați, unde e îngrijit cu mult profesionalism.

Nu este sigur dacă își va tăia sau nu venele...

[The Final Song ❀ · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was the longest greentext that I had read ever

[Lee Klein · Rating 4 out of 5]

The British translator or publisher should be beheaded (or, well, at least vigorously booed) for calling this book "Whatever" when its French title is something amazing like "Extension of the Domain of the Struggle" -- if we otherwise lived in a total utopia, I'd say restoring the English translation's title to something closer to the original would be a major issue in this year's elections. This one seemed at first like it was written by someone other than the masterful dude who did "The Elementary Particles" and "The Possibility of an Island". I blamed the translator at first, then Houellebecq's youth, and considered it in the 2/3-star range: intemittently clever but otherwise "eh". But then the narrator goes to a club for young singles and things take off - steam gathers, themes condense, the prose pushes ahead and doesn't just muse about the connection between moving furniture (especially beds) and suicide. What's cool too is that many of the themes are the same ones he develops in later books, but here he's a little more flatly vulgar or theoretical, his tone/style shifts (occasionally exuberantly purple and then also a bit more spare/poetic at times too, more regionally French). But then things really rise and end well in the 3/4-star range (nails the landing). Definitely worth reading, and maybe even re-reading, considering it's 154 not-so-dense pages. Anyway, whatever: I'd like to petition for a new translation by Gavin Bowd or Frank Wynne, someone who'd respect the original title and maybe debritishify things a bit.

[BlackOxford · Rating 2 out of 5]

Endless Adolescence

Meh. An amalgam of Harry Enfield (as Kevin the Teenager), Charles Anthony Bruno (Strangers on a Train), with a smackerol of Patrick Bateman (American Psycho). Praised in some quarters for its balance of philosophy and gritty dialogue, it's difficult to tell whether Whatever is really meant to be taken seriously...and, if so, as what. An angry, possibly psychotic 30ish IT nerd with an awkward adolescence has a breakdown and recovers...or perhaps he doesn't. It doesn't matter much either way. Maybe it's necessary to be French to get it.

[Fabian · Rating 4 out of 5]

A "Naked Lunch" minus all that heroin, a "Fight Club" minus the cast of rambunctious spacemonkeys.

A voice as singular (and freshly French) as Francoise Sagan's. A Novella that is ambitious, small, bitter-- it hints at the horrible and barely makes note of the magical in the everyday. Boredom is the biggest enemy, as WE ALL KNOW. Brutal, smart, crazy, incredibly edgy, a stylish nouvelle-classique at only 155 pages!

[Jayakrishnan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Whatever is a truly entertaining and dangerous novel. Entertaining because Houellebecq must have had a lot of fun while writing it, thinking about all the people he would piss off. I certainly had a lot of fun reading it. It is dangerous for a number of reasons. Any office worker with any soul left, who happens to discover Whatever, would have trouble reporting for work the next day. The sexually unfulfilled (incels?) and the physiologically deficient might feel that they have finally found a writer to voice their grievances. Houellebecq's hostility towards different aspects of the emerging capitalism fueled global mono culture including interracial relationships, shopping malls etc is sure to inspire a lot of hazardous people.

Whatever is about a French computer programmer who cannot get laid because he is ugly. The lack of success in the sexual realm fills him with misery and hatred and jealousy at the world at large. In his free time, he writes weird stories involving conversations between animals and also muses on the consequences of economic and sexual liberalism. He is sent on a work related project with an equally ugly colleague even as his mental health deteriorates. At a discotheque, when he and his colleague are relegated to the sidelines of the dance-floor, a murderous sexual rage possesses him and he hatches a diabolical plan that involves murder of an interracial couple. The book is virtually plot less. It is like a beautiful one sided debate where the main character gets to espouse his commentary on modern French society.

The central theme of the novel as espoused by the computer programmer is that sexual liberalization has left many ugly and physically deficient people without a sexual partner. In this liberalized system, some people (the beautiful and the strong) have a fulfilling sex life while for others (the ugly and the physically wretched), the lack of sexual fulfillment only compounds the horror of modern life. This system is not too different from economic liberalization where the industrious gather all the wealth while the incompetent end up as paupers.

I think Houellebecq has unearthed a difficult modern problem whose effects are pervasive across the world. Some years ago, when I worked in Mumbai, a colleague of mine who was good at his job, average looking and shy in his interactions with women, lamented about the increasing number of live in relationships in India. He said he was not "getting anyone" while some of his friends had moved in with their girlfriends. My colleague was victorious in the newly liberalized Indian economy where a man who is good at his job could amass wealth. But he was a failure in the increasingly liberalized sexual system where you had to be handsome and charming. India is still a conservative country where men seek out females through arranged marriage (usually arranged by parents). But the number of "love marriages" and "live in relationships" are on the rise and this is making a lot of people very uncomfortable. Once upon a time, the ugliest of Indian males was guaranteed a mate through arranged marriage. But increasingly (as Indian society gets more liberalized and women gain more rights) this old guarantee of a partner is not sacrosanct anymore. I expect a few Indian imitators of Houellebecq in the years to come or maybe even worse, imitators of the characters in this novel.

Julian Barnes said that Houellebecq was a big game hunter. He is right. Whatever is a Tsar Bomba that might fall into the hands of the wrong people. But some of us out here are really bored with our lives. And we need dangerous novels like Whatever to "tickle out cement souls back into life"as Bukowski said.

[Meike · Rating 4 out of 5]

English: Whatever
German: Ausweitung der Kampfzone
Winner Grand Prix national des lettres & Prix Flore
It's funny that Houellebecq's debut novel from 1994 was deemed scandalous upon publication, especially considering what he wrote later. In "Extension of the Combat Zone" (idiotic English title: Whatever), we get a remarkable amount of themes that will later be turned into major plot points or whole novels, and the story culminates in an evil spin on Camus' The Stranger that leads straight into madness à la Büchner's Lenz. Our nameless, 30-ish protagonist works for a software firm in Paris, earns well, but has hardly any social contacts - as he is also the narrator, his overall feeling of defeat lingers on every page, and it's also the main provocation here: A fairly rich guy feels defeated by the way the world is structured, and his overwhelming alienation drives him to commit an hideous act. Think American Psycho if Bateman was a middle-class French depressive.

Until we get there though, we accompany him on business trips implementing software for the French Ministry of Agriculture, meeting various corporate and administrative types (Houellebecq, an agricultural engineer who himself worked for the Ministry of Agriculture, would discuss the clash between nature/farming and automation/efficiency again in 2019's Serotonin). As the protagonist is already deemed unstable, he is teamed up with his colleague Tisserand, a 28-year-old virgin who is desperately seeking to connect with a woman. Meanwhile, the depression and cynicism of the protagonist worsens, leading to a heart condition (go figure) and prompting him to make a fatal suggestion to Tisserand...

The narrative frame is also already very typical for this author (although he would later considerably step up his game): The language remains true to the narrator, ergo: it is plain and cynical, and there are numerous discursive passages pondering the state of the world - Houellebecq would later reach peek debate literature in Plattform and, of course, Submission. The title refers to the world view of the narrator as well: The "combat zone" is the realm of the world adolescents enter and grown-ups live in, a world structured, he argues, by mechanisms of power, money and domination on the one hand and sex on the other. Interestingly, the narrator, who has given up fighting in this battle, is frequently addresssing his readers directly, elaborating on his views regarding a society dominated by the logic of neo-liberal capitalism and social Darwinism (there is even a sub-story about euthanasia - hello, The Map and the Territory).

I'm endlessly fascinated by Houellebecq's writing, and while this certainly isn't his best effort, "Extension..." and Lanzarote read like books that lay the foundation for other works and are thus interesting for people trying to get to the core of his narratolgy.

[Jose Carlos · Rating 5 out of 5]

El debut del genio furioso
He aquí la primera novela de quién, con el paso de los años, se ha convertido en l´enfant terrible de la literatura francesa, pero también en el mejor escritor de su generación, que ya ocupa uno de los lugares de privilegio. Su debut, con esta Ampliación del campo de batalla, es toda una declaración de intenciones: señalar el camino que ha llevado al hombre moderno hasta la incomunicación, la derrota y el aislamiento.

En ese sentido, Ampliación del campo de batalla puede leerse teniendo en la cabeza la novela de El extranjero de Camus, he incluso La transformación de Kafka, dado que el protagonista houellebecquiano se nutre de ciertos comportamientos apuntados en Mersault y Gregorio Samsa. Al fin y al cabo, estos personajes son una cáscara humana que ha sido reducida a la insignificancia a causa de un trabajo de zapa llevado a cabo por una sociedad aplastante y alienadora. En ese sentido, el protagonista de la novela de Houellebecq es una especie de puesta al día de ambos.

Pero la novela busca algo más: realiza una crítica destructiva y casi apocalíptica de una forma de vida, la nuestra, y de una sociedad anclada en unos pocos y crueles parámetros necesarios para mensurar si alguien posee éxito o si, por el contrario, es un fracasado: el consumo y el sexo. Al tanto tienes, tanto vales, se le puede añadir el con tantas mujeres te acuestas, tanto triunfo social posees. Son los indicadores de una sociedad enferma que aplasta y segrega a los incapaces, un sistema cruel que nos obliga a permanecer en un estado de batalla campal contra todo y contra todos, sin descanso.

El protagonista del libro es un informático con cierto estatus profesional, pero que socialmente se encuentra aniquilado por la cotidiana obligación de tener que pasar por el aro de toda una lista de convenciones hipócritas que le permitan mantener una imagen de falso éxito. Pero, ¿con qué fin? ¿Es realmente necesario? Los personajes que lo acompañan en su día a día son un retrato de miserias, un compendio de frustraciones y amarguras que han aceptado su rendición al sistema, y que así lo alimentan y lo hacen aún más fuerte.

Sin llegar a ser un libro incómodo de leer, Houellebecq resulta en ocasiones desasosegador, y apunta las maneras disolventes que amplificará en sus trabajos posteriores. Es un debut con mucha mala leche, pero cargado de contención, lo que hace del libro una obra inquietante pero reflexiva, bagaje que irá perdiendo paulatinamente en sus siguientes novelas, hasta convertirse en esa especie de punk de la literatura, azote generacional y niño terrible, siempre cargado de razón y obsesionado por dejar al descubierto el hueso de la vergüenza de la impostura, de la pobreza social que nos domina, y que nos hace, cada día, un poco mas miserables.

[K.D. Absolutely · Rating 4 out of 5]

The pervasive emptiness of human life is the main theme of this book. Thirty-year old narrator is a computer engineer in France and he is living alone in his apartment. In his spare time, he writes about animals, smokes four packs of cigarettes a day, has no friends, he has no sex life. While reading, even if I am already 49, I could feel the narrator's loneliness. I have all those he lacks, I write book reviews and read a lot and all those keep my idle mind busy when I am supposed to be relaxing. We know that evil thoughts normally lurk in one's idle mind.

I am an I.T. manager and have been in I.T. or related fields for most of my 30-year corporate life. I can say that I.T. is oftentimes really a sad profession. You deal with a machine every hour of your working day. You make sure that it runs and your users are happy. You make sure that the behavior of the program is predictable, efficient and repetitive. You make sure that the reports the big shots in the company are accurate and always available at their fingertips.

The narrator, in this first book by Michel Houllebecq, is an unnamed person does not find meaning in anything he does. At 30, he is still a virgin and so he frequently masturbates along in his apartment. Probably because of this, he finds women as pure sexual objects or object of his masturbatory fantasies. Probably because of this, he has difficulty relating to them. One day, he and his co-worker Tisserand are sent to Rouen to train users on a software. It this there when twists to their empty lives happen that eventually lead to fatal death to one of them.

The prevalent mood of the book is bleak and sad. There are some funny moments because I always find humor in solitude, that's how weird I sometimes get. Houellebecq's writing is sparse and edgy. Sometimes, his thoughts go everywhere, i.e., directionless but I supposed that he is just trying to reflect to his readers the nature of the character.

This is my first Houellebecq and I am happy that I finally tried reading him. Definitely not my last.

[charlie medusa · Rating 1 out of 5]

de cette lecture je retiens :
- les descriptions de seins particulièrement peu inspirées (ronds ? c'est tout ? t'as rien de plus à dire Michel ?)
- le fait que je devrais arrêter de me casser la tête à écrire des romans qui disent quelque chose de neuf étant donné qu'il suffit manifestement de gloser 150 pages durant sur le fait que les bureaux c'est nul et la vie c'est nul et vieillir c'est nul et se branler c'est nul ouin ouin ouin ouin ouin pour obtenir une reconnaissance littéraire d'ordre mondial
- on peut par ailleurs de toute évidence paisiblement mettre le n-word dans ses livres quand on est un mec blanc à qui on pardonne tout
- qu'il y a manifestement sur cette Terre beaucoup de personnes bien plus capables que moi de disserter sur du vide pck vraiment je ne comprends à cette heure tjr pas de quoi sont remplies les interminables critiques de ce bouquin que l'on trouve sur les internets
- nouveau : il suffit d'être un homme pour que votre médiocrité soit lue comme du cynisme
- Robespierre doit se retourner dans sa tombe (être comparé à ce personnage en tant qu'hommes ayant payé le prix des choses controversées qu'ils ont dites... je...)
- jamais vu un truc plus consensuel et plat que ça à part l'autoroute A86 et encore même l'A86 elle est moins prévisible

[Steven Godin · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.75 stars

If there was ever a writer who has dished out multiple blows to society’s nervous system then Houellebecq is that writer. He writes with a declaration of hostilities, with a filthy-minded stronghold for abjection, like he has nothing to lose. He knows a lot of people probably despise him, but does he really care? While I can't say I would want him as a friend, I will say that I've read much worse writers than him. I actually thought Atomised was really good, thought Platform was not bad, but didn't think much of Lanzarote, which featured a totally dislikeable narrator I so wanted to kick in the nuts. I guess this novel sits somewhere in the middle, probably trying to grope the others. Our protagonist here could have easily appeared in any of those later novels above, so not a lot has changed there in that respect: basically, our guy is a sexually frustrated asshole. Reflecting bitterly on his inability to seduce the opposite sex, and the exhaustion of even trying that goes with it, our disaffected computer expert takes a work trip to the provinces with a gormless colleague. After a series of humiliations at foul discotheques, he encourages his colleague to commit a killing in revenge for his exclusion from an erotic paradise. With a mood of sexual paranoia, Houellebecq brutally, with malicious intent, writes of sexuality as a system of social hierarchy, and how sexual liberation would have been better off out of fashion. Might have thought more of this had I not read the others, but he's now starting to become a bit of a bore. I'm just hoping Submission is something entirely different if I decide to read that.

[Leonard Gaya · Rating 4 out of 5]

Extension est le premier roman de Michel Houellebecq, dont l’œuvre précédente (quelques recueils de poésie et un essai sur H.P. Lovecraft) était restée essentiellement confidentielle. Bref, c’est Houellebecq à ses débuts.

Ce premier roman est assez bref et peut pratiquement se lire d’une seule traite. Il s’agit du récit à la première personne d’un obscur ingénieur informatique vers la fin des années 1980 — un personnage assez proche, peut-être, de son auteur avant qu’il ne parvienne à la gloire littéraire qu’on connaît.

Les détails de la vie de cet antihéros et de ses états d’humeur sont, somme toute, assez banals ; comme l’indique le narrateur : « Nous sommes loin des Hauts de Hurlevent, c’est le moins qu’on puisse dire. La forme romanesque n’est pas conçue pour peindre l’indifférence ni le néant ; il faudrait inventer une articulation plus plate, plus concise et plus morne. » Et c’est précisément ce que Houellebecq parvient à faire : peindre un lointain descendant de Raskolnikov ou du Deume de Belle du Seigneur, dans des teintes fades, naïves et qui donne à l’ensemble une grande fluidité. Tout effet de style est marqué par l’ironie ou par l’autodérision (et il faut souligner que Houellebecq ne manque pas d'un humour à la fois grinçant et feutré).

Mais ce roman est aussi porteur d’une thèse. L’« extension du domaine de la lutte » désigne le libéralisme économique et sexuel, et la vision de Houellebecq, avec ses personnages amers, désabusés, vaniteux, cyniques, frustrés, dépressifs, désespérés, suicidaires, est essentiellement anti-libérale et réactionnaire, voire nihiliste. Bref, c’est Houellebecq à ses débuts et, déjà, Houellebecq est un punk.

[Kamil · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is my first Houellebecq so I still give him the benefit of doubt. Even more so since it's only his debut novel. Poor writing and sexist. A critique of society, that supposed to be his main forte, is flat and banal. Yet another story about emptiness of corporate life and a guy that sees the point of life in "love". Love not meaning creating a partnership with a woman but simply fucking her. In the same time constantly whining how the only woman in his life that mattered was selfish and damaged by shallowness of modern relations, and basically was a bitch and a loose one.
Another antihero of modern literature? Ok I could take that but only if it wasn't so trivial.

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 4 out of 5]

You have this friend who works in IT. He is rendered sick at the torturous formality and bureaucratic inevitability of existence, and slaps you on the face twice before bursting into tears. You phone his friend Tisserand who is unbearably ugly and hits on you twice, for help. You say: “You are so hideous, no woman would go anywhere near you, you disgusting pustule of a man.” Tisserand breaks down in tears but comes back with a brutal salvo: “You women are callous stiff planks who’re only out for yourselves!” Or words to that effect. But your friend who works in IT is looking extremely peaky. He, naturally, has no problem getting laid (despite his own physical shortcomings, i.e. he looks like Michel Houellebecq) but he does seem to be coming down with a bad case of lifesickness. Clearly, traveling around France training people in IT packages is no sound basis for a life. So your friend writes strange animal stories then checks himself into a psych ward. You don’t hear from him for a while, for he is a gone man. A long gone man. (P.S. Worst cover and mistranslated title ever. Original: Extension du domaine de la lutte).

Favourite passage:

“Writing brings scant relief. It retraces, it delimits. It lends a touch of coherence, the idea of a kind of realism. One stumbles around in a cruel fog, but there is the odd pointer. Chaos is no more than a few feet away. A meagre victory, in truth. What a contrast with the absolute, miraculous power of reading! An entire life spent reading would have fulfilled my every desire; I already knew that at the age of seven. The texture of the world is painful, inadequate; unalterable, or so it seems to me. Really, I believe that an entire life spent reading would have suited me best. Such a life has not been granted me.” (p12)

[Roula · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Εδώ και χρόνια ,βαδίζω πλάι σε ένα φάντασμα που μου μοιάζει , και το οποίο ζει σε ένα θεωρητικό παράδεισο ,σε στενή επαφή με τον κόσμο . Για πολύ καιρό πίστευα πως οφειλα να το ακολουθώ . Πάει ,τελείωσε ."
"Και ξαφνικά, όλα εξαφανίζονται . Ένα δυνατό νοητικό χαστούκι με επαναφέρει στον βαθύτερο εαυτό μου . Και με εξετάζω ,με ειρωνεύομαι ,όμως παραληλλα με σέβομαι . Πόσο ικανός αισθάνομαι,πέρα για πέρα,για εντυπωσιακές νοητικές αναπαραστάσεις! Πόσο ξεκάθαρη είναι επίσης η εικόνα μου για τον κόσμο . Ο πλούτος εκείνου που πρόκειται να πεθάνει εντός μου είναι αφάνταστα τεράστιος .δεν είναι ανάγκη να ντρέπομαι για λογαριασμό μου .προσπάθησα ."
Μη λέμε πολλά ,ο Houellebecq έγραψε αυτή τη βιβλιαρα που διαβάζεται σήμερα σαν να γράφτηκε χθες ,το μακρινό 1994 ( ναι ,το 1994 δεν είναι πριν 10 χρόνια contrary to popular belief 😂).ήταν το πρώτο του βιβλίο !! Είναι ένα βιβλίο που μιλά για την βααααααρετη κοινωνία που ζούμε , τις βαααααααρετες δουλειές που κάνουμε,τον βαααααααρετο τρόπο που περνάνε τον ελάχιστο ελεύθερο χρόνο και πως αυτό μας οδηγεί στην κατάθλιψη και την αποξένωση από τους γύρω και από το μέσα μας και από ο,τι μας δίνει χαρά και νόημα ...
Διαβάστε Houellebecq
⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐/5 αστέρια

[Ana Cristina Lee · Rating 4 out of 5]

Publicada en los últimos años del siglo XX, esta obra es la primera de un autor que propone una visión existencialista y nihilista de la sociedad – para él decadente – occidental. Presenta un sistema económico liberal en que todo el mundo intenta conseguir, y acaparar, sexo y dinero. La novela está escrita desde el punto de vista de un perdedor del sistema, un ingeniero de mediana edad que se ha descolgado de la carrera y contempla todo lo que le rodea con una sensación de extrañeza e irrealidad.

Ríos de tinta se han vertido sobre esta novela, que propone una visión que después Houellebecq irá desarrollando en una serie de obras a cual más pesimista. Es el crepúsculo de una civilización contado desde el punto de vista de un varón blanco heterosexual de mediana edad.

Hay crudas descripciones sexuales y un coqueteo constante con la idea del suicidio, así que no es una lectura apropiada para quien se sienta deprimido o busque un poco de evasión.

Sin embargo, la mirada de Houellebecq sobre nuestra sociedad es tan descarnada y lúcida que no podemos evitar asomarnos con él al abismo, a pesar de la nula empatía que despiertan sus personajes. Es un autor que tiene todo un imaginario y una filosofía originales, plasmados de manera implacable en unas obras breves pero muy contundentes.

[Kansas · Rating 4 out of 5]

https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2025...

“Pero no entiendo, hablando en concreto, como consigue vivir la gente. Tengo la impresión de que todo el mundo debería ser desgraciado, ya veo, vivimos en un mundo tan sencillo… Hay un sistema basado en la dominación, el dinero y el miedo, un sistema más bien masculino, que podemos llamar Marte; y hay un sistema femenino basado en la seducción y el sexo, que podemos llamar Venus. Y eso es todo. ¿De verdad es posible vivir y creer que no hay nada más? Maupassant, y con él los realistas del siglo XIX, creían que no había nada más; y eso lo llevó a la locura.”


Hasta ahora no me había decidido en profundizar demasiado en Michel Houellebecq, aunque había leído "Sumisión" hace unos cuantos años y me gustó, pero sin volverme especialmente loca. No seguí leyéndole, imagino que por lo mediático que viene a ser este autor, que igual no es culpa suya, sino de los medios, o de la cacofonía que resuena cada vez me lo encontraba por ahí: el malote de la literatura francesa, provocador e irascible. No sé por qué, ahora me ha interesado acercarme a él porque llevo un tiempo buceando entre la literatura francesa y la verdad es que Houellebecq también me llamaba por ese retrato del mundo que ahora mismo estamos pisando. Esta primera novela suya es de 1994 y durante la lectura me encontré pensando si seguirían siendo actuales los temas de los que hablaba hace treinta años, ¿había envejecido esta novela? Y llego a la conclusión de que para nada, todo lo contrario. Sí que es cierto que es un provocador, o por lo menos lo es en la medida en la que saca temas en torno a la naturaleza humana que no nos atrevemos a abordar, por eso nos resulta incómodo, por eso le ponemos la etiqueta de provocador, y por lo menos con esta novela me queda claro que su provocación no es para nada gratuita (“La dificultad es que no basta exactamente con vivir según una norma. De hecho consigues (a veces por los pelos, por los mismos pelos, pero en conjunto lo consigues) vivir según la norma. Las facturas pagadas en su fecha. Nunca te muevas sin el carnet de identidad (¡y el bolsillito especial para la tarjeta VISA!…") En esta novela está continuamente saliendo a relucir que quien no se atenga a vivir bajo las reglas, se convierte en una especie de antisistema, porque aparentemente se atiene a la norma pero esto le crea una lucha interna que le hace entrar en conflicto consigo mismo y con el entorno, y de esta manera sale a relucir la famosa amargura, de la que está imbuida toda la novela.


"Ninguna civilización, ninguna época han sido capaces de desarrollar en los hombres tal cantidad de amargura. Desde este punto de vista, vivimos tiempos sin precedentes. Si hubiera de resumir el estado mental contemporáneo en una palabra yo elegiría, sin dudarlo, amargura."


Así que después de terminar esta novela me queda claro que la provocación descarnada de Houellebecq cuando se refiere al sexo, a las mujeres, a la violencia sexual y al materialismo imperante, tiene sentido, no es artificial ni barata sino que es perfectamente coherente porque está situando al protagonista en un contexto en el que, aunque parezca un conformista, se debate en una lucha interna, vive en un perfecto campo de batalla en el que intenta resistir, pero la resistencia es un camino hacia la amargura y el desencanto "Hablando más en general, todos estamos sometidos al envejecimiento y a la muerte.(...) Así poco a poco, se establece la certeza de que el mundo es limitado. El mismo deseo desaparece; solo quedan la amargura, los celos y el miedo. Sobre todo queda la amargura, una amargura inmensa, inconcebible." Así que cuando nos sentimos ofendidos por lo explícito de muchas situaciones, por cómo retrata a las mujeres (por lo menos en esta novela), estoy convencida de que esto nos viene de la incomodidad que nos produce enfrentarnos a ciertas situaciones que no nos atrevemos verbalizar en el día a día. No sé hasta qué punto el autor está distanciado de su texto o se encuentra cerca de sus postulados, pero no es eso lo que me interesa por ahora, ya lo iré dilucidando a medida que siga leyéndole, pero ahora mismo tengo que decir que me interesa seguir leyéndole y que para nada me he sentido ofendida :)


“Mucho antes de que la palabra se pusiera de moda, mi empresa desarrolló una auténtica cultura de empresa (creación de un logo, distribución de camisetas a los empleados, seminarios de motivación en Turquía). Es una empresa de alto rendimiento, con una reputación envidiable en el sector. Una buena casa. No puedo dimitir por una cabezonada.”


En citas como ésta es cuando tengo claro que lo que escribía Houellebecq hace treinta años sigue estando más actual y vigente que nunca. Las empresas “guays” son cada vez más parecidas a las que describía Houellebec en 1994 cuando publicó esta novela, no solo no se ha quedado anticuado o anquilosado sino que esta cultura de empresa está cada día más arraigada y cuánto más guay sea la empresa, cuánto más alto rendimiento tenga y mayor reputación, más alienado y puteado se debe sentir el que trabaje para ella, y Houellebec lo retrata magníficamente a través de su protagonista, un ingeniero informático de treinta años, que podría estar satisfecho con su posición social y que sin embargo el vacío emocional lo ahoga cada día más en un pozo. Incapaz de comunicarse más allá de la superficialidad, retrata el mundo que lo rodea, la empresa y los compañeros de trabajo, con una crudeza descarnada, frío y analizando cada uno de sus momentos, como si lo viera todo a través de un microscopio. El estilo narrativo de Houellebecq está situado al mismo nivel, frio, descarnado, humor negrísimo sin un ápice de emoción, al igual que su personaje protagonista.


“Has tenido una vida. Ha habido momentos en que tenías una vida. Cierto, ya no te acuerdas muy bien; pero hay fotografías que lo atestiguan. Probablemente era en la época de tu adolescencia o poco después.

Ahora estás lejos de la orilla: ¡ah sí, qué lejos estás de la orilla! Durante mucho tiempo has creído en la existencia de otra orilla; ya no. Sin embargo sigues nadando y con cada movimiento estás más cerca de ahogarte.”


Houellebecq pone el sexo y el dinero al mismo nivel porque ambos se regirán por reglas de competencia, de estatus, de éxito o de fracaso; la superioridad de los más guapos sobre los más feos en una especie de jerarquización del físico que al final diferenciará a los perdedores sexuales de los que tienen éxito en el sexo, y lo compara continuamente al estatus económico o al fracaso en la empresa. “Por decir algo, observo que en nuestros días todo el mundo tiene forzosamente la impresión, en un momento u otro de su vida, de ser un fracasado. Ahí estamos de acuerdo”. Y en este aspecto es muy interesante el entorno en el que Houellebecq sitúa a su joven ingeniero informático, en una serie de viajes por la Francia más provinciana en un curso de la empresa para formar a diferentes funcionarios del Ministerio de Agricultura. Aburrimiento, desencanto, aislamiento, alienación y a medida que emprende este ciclo formativo, va entrando en una especie de colapso mental, que no tiene nada de viaje de conciencia de sí mismo, sino más bien será un viaje en el que se encontrará cada vez más lejos de sí mismo. Próxima parada, “Las partículas elementales”.

“Y luego tomo calmantes, y todo se arregla. Todo se arregla.”

♫♫♫ Rendez-nous la lumière - Dominique A. ♫♫♫

[Alexander Carmele · Rating 2 out of 5]

Intellektuelle Nebelbomben eines sprachlich-verhunzten Manifest für mehr Sex.

Inhalt: 4/5 Sterne (Dokument unglücklicher Männlichkeit)
Form: 1/5 Sterne (posenhaft, gestelzt, holprig)
Komposition: 2/5 Sterne (Dissoziierung, am Ende mit Zug)
Leseerlebnis: 2/5 Sterne (bedrückende Verwirrung)

Houellebecqs Erstlingsroman Ausweitung der Kampfzone, nachdem er aber bereits 1992 durch den Gedichtband Suche nach Glück an die Öffentlichkeit getreten ist, erschien 1994. Er thematisiert anhand zweier Jahre eines zu Beginn der Romanhandlung dreißig Jahre alten namenlosen Ich-Erzählers die männliche Jungerwachsenzeit. Das dreißigste Jahr steht, wie auch in dem gleichnamigen Erzählband von Ingeborg Bachmann, für die Zeit- und Schubumkehr der abgeschlossenen Jugendhoffnung, dasselbige Alter von Josef K., zu Beginn von Der Proceß. Mit dem dreißigsten Jahr sind die Karten für den Rest des Lebens gelegt:

«Meinst du, es ist gelaufen?»
«Natürlich. Es ist schon lange gelaufen, von Anfang an ist es gelaufen. […] Der sexuelle Misserfolg, Raphael, den du seit der Pubertät erfahren hast, die Frustration, die dich verfolgt, seit du dreizehn bist, werden in dir eine unauslöschliche Spur hinterlassen. […] Du wirst immer ein Waisenkind dieser Jugendlieben bleiben, die du nicht erfahren hast. Die Wunde in dir schmerzt; sie wird immer schmerzhafter werden. Eine schreckliche, unbarmherzige Bitterkeit wird am Ende dein Herz erfüllen. Für dich gibt es weder Erlösung noch Linderung.»

Dieses Gespräch findet zwischen dem Ich-Erzähler und seinem Kollegen Tisserand statt, die beide durch Frankreich tingeln, um Einführungskurse über eine für das Landwirtschaftsministerium entwickelte Software zu geben. Die Reise beginnt für den Ich-Erzähler holprig, und endet für seinen Kollegen desaströs. Im Zentrum des Geschehens steht die Sehnsucht der beiden jungen Männer nach Liebe, um, wie es der Ich-Erzähler in einem an seine Psychiaterin adressierten Bekenntnisschreiben ausdrückt, der Einsamkeit zu entkommen:

«Es gibt Menschen, die spüren sehr früh eine erschreckende Unmöglichkeit; auf sich allein gestellt zu leben; im Grunde ertragen sie es nicht; ihrem Leben ins Gesicht zu blicken und es als Ganzes zu sehen, ohne Schattenzonen, ohne Hintergründe.»

Die eigentliche These lautet, dass der freie Markt zu einer Pauperisierung und Deklassierung von weiten Teilen der Bevölkerung führt, in amourösen Verhältnissen die der unattraktiven Männer. Diese These wird mit absonderlichen Tierfabeln ausgeführt, und durch szenisches Verhalten illustriert, die Ausweitung der Kampfzone mehr als ein Bruchwerk von Einfällen und Ausfällen erscheinen lassen, die jedweder inneren Erzähllogik entbehren. Erzähltempi, Erzählmodi, ja, überhaupt stimmige Geschehensabläufe finden erst gegen Ende, im letzten Drittel des Romans, statt. Genauso wenig überzeugen die intellektuelle Ambitionen:

Ich räume ein, dass [die] Existenz [von nicht Allein-Sein-Könnenden] eine Ausnahme von den Naturgesetzen ist, nicht nur, weil sich dieser Riß der fundamentalen Nichtanpassung außerhalb jeder genetischen Finalität vollzieht, sondern auch wegen der exzessiven Hellsichtigkeit, die er voraussetzt, eine Hellsichtigkeit, die die Wahrnehmungsmuster der gewöhnlichen Existenz offenkundig überschreitet.

Das liest sich als Parodie, und mag als intellektualistische Parodie gemeint sein, als Verwirrtaktik, um einen Pseudo-akademischen Diskurs zu persiflieren. Jedoch gerät die Persiflage selbst zur Farce, wo sie ins hilflose Schwafeln und schwadronierende Brabbeln verfällt, also komplizierte Worte aneinanderklebt, die aus dem Zusammenhang gerissen nichts besagen, höchstens ein gewisses Maß an feuilletonistischer Belesenheit inszenieren. Der holprige Stil trägt sein Übriges bei, um Ausweitung der Kampfzone in ein Manifest einer unglücklichen Männlichkeit zu verwandeln, das seine psychologische Berechtigung besitzt, aber fast keine literarischen Merkmale aufweist, die es über das Stammtischgespräch unglücklicher Singles und sexlos bleibender Ehemänner hinaushebt. Die offensichtlichen Anleihen bei Albert Camus‘ Der Fremde und Franz Kafkas Der Proceß bleiben jedenfalls zahnlos.

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Details – ab hier Spoilergefahr (zur Erinnerung für mich):
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Inhalt: Selbstzerfleischung eines Informatikers, raucht viel, hat ein paar gescheiterte Beziehungen, muss Kurse für ein Software-Programm mit einem Berufskollegen abhalten, der mit 30 Jahren noch Jungfrau, verzweifelt ist, aber die Hoffnung auf Liebe noch nicht aufgegeben hat. Der Protagonist erleidet eine Herzbeutelentzündung, muss ins Krankenhaus, schließt sich wieder dem Kollegen an, den er zu einem Mord zu überreden versucht. Doch der Kollege masturbiert lieber. Fährt danach zurück nach Paris und kommt bei einem Autounfall ums Leben. Der Protagonist sieht schwarz für sich während Weihnachten, versucht nach Hause zu kommen, das gelingt nicht, wird immer depressiver, selbstzerstörerischer, wird von einem Psychiater institutionalisiert, dort verliebt er sich in seine Psychiaterin, die wieder auf Abstand geht. Am Ende fährt er zurück in seine Heimat, geht dort in den Wald und versteht, er wird nie glücklich werden. Selbstverstümmelungsphantasien. Schere. Zigaretten. Viele Beleidigungen, harte Äußerungen, nur aufs Aussehen beschränkt. Tier-Analogien. --> 4 Sterne

Form: grausige Sprache, unrhythmische, schlechte Wortwahl, missverständlich, unbeholfen, holprig, stockelig. Sätze passen nicht zusammen, Wortebene, Abstraktionseben. --> 1 Sterne

Komposition: Wechsel, völlig beliebig, von Erzähltempi und -modi. Indirekte, direkte, erlebte Rede durcheinander. Direkte Ansprache an das Publikum. Unklare Erzählposition. Freischwebend, doch nicht allwissend. Verallgemeinert, in Unsicherheit. Vagheit. Unklare Raffungen, aber vorhanden. Verdichtungen, nicht gleichmäßig szenisch. --> 2 Sterne

[Anna Carina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Update
Zum Reread hat sich ein neuer Aspekt hinzugesellt- der Wunsch nach klaren Strukturen, Verlässlichkeiten, Bedeutungszuschreibungen, die sich im Verhalten ausdrücken.
Die Leere der sozialen Codes.

Der Icherzähler sieht sich in einem uferlosen Meer voller Ungewissheiten, chaotischer, oberflächlicher Abläufe und Gleichgültigkeit.

„ stattdessen herrscht überall Anarchie, die Programme sind auf x-beliebige Weise heruntergeschrieben, jeder sitzt in seiner Ecke und macht, was er will, ohne sich um die anderen zu scheren, es gibt keine Verständigung, es gibt keinen gemeinsamen Plan, es gibt keine Harmonie, Paris ist eine grauenhafte Stadt, die Leute kommen nicht mehr zusammen, sie interessieren sich nicht einmal für ihre Arbeit, alles ist oberflächlich, jeder geht um sechs Uhr nach Hause, ob die Arbeit erledigt ist oder nicht, das alles ist ihnen scheißegal.“

Houellebecq lässt den depressiven Icherzähler in ironischer Distanznahme, nüchtern und urteilend, sich selbst mit dekonstruierend, durch einzelne szenische Mitschnitte strunkeln.
Die erste Hälfte ist noch stark von der Arbeitswelt geprägt und erinnert immer wieder an Kafka und seine Entfremdung zu ihr.
Die zynische Reflexion verweilt narrativ in einem Abschottungsmechanismus. Das liest sich für mich nur kurzweilig interessant und verliert sich doch schnell in Redundanzen.
Er bleibt für meinen Geschmack zu lange in einzelnen Szenen, fügt ihnen nichts hinzu, lamentiert rum.
Ironische Distanz geht für mich erzählerisch nur dann auf, wenn sie eine suchende Bewegung in der Sprache und Stilistik aufweist. Dh. Türen öffnet, kreativ und dynamisch genutzt wird und Möglichkeitsräume schafft.
Wenn ein Autor sich dazu entschließt, sich an der symbolischen Ordnung abzuarbeiten - an Werten, Normen, Codes - und dabei den Icherzähler mit Hasskappe auf die Psychoanalyse, sich dem Realen, dem Unmöglichen verweigern lässt und das Imaginäre nicht ausschöpft, wird die Luft dünn. Das Unmögliche wird durch Ohnmacht kaschiert.

„Von den Sturmhöhen haben wir uns weit entfernt, das ist das Mindeste, was man sagen kann. Die Romanform ist nicht geschaffen, um die Indifferenz oder das Nichts zu beschreiben; man müsste eine plattere Ausdrucksweise erfinden, eine knappere, ödere Form.“

Na, und diese öde Form gelingt ihm auf den ersten 70% Teilstrecke des Buches nicht sonderlich.
Klar, sie eignet sich hervorragend die Verbitterung, Leere und Hoffnungslosigkeit dieser Gestalten zu unterstreichen. Sie eignet sich aber nicht, um ein erzählerisch, in sich stimmiges literarisches Werk abzuliefern. Dafür sind die Szenen viel zu lose miteinander verknüpft und werden rein informativ abgearbeitet. Ein zynischer Spruch jagt den nächsten. Aburteilen. Weiter.

Das letzte Drittel hatte ich sehr stark in Erinnerung. Und das habe ich auch diesmal wieder zu empfunden. Der Text schließt sich zu erzählerischen Erlebnissen zusammen. Es fließen Emotionen ein. Die Dramatik nimmt zu und der Icherzähler wechselt in eine innere Dynamik. Das Imaginäre wird jetzt gut bespielt. Bilder weben sich ein, Raum erschließt sich.

In diesem Werk ist mir der Inhalt, der verhandelt wird, tatsächlich mehr Wert als die Ausführung.
Daher ziehe ich nur einen Stern von meiner Ursprungsbewertung ab.
Die Verknüpfung der Verwirrung, die Menschen erleben, die sich sehr stark an Strukturen und Verlässlichem orientieren müssen und auf Widerstände stoßen, hier insbesondere Verhaltensweisen vs. Sozialem Code in Bezug auf Sexualität, finde ich inhaltlich sehr gut dargestellt.
Menschen die nach einer Symbolisierung oder Bedeutungszuschreibung lechzen, die ihnen ständig entzogen wird. Und oben drauf, entfernen diese sich selber in ihrem Symbolisierungswahn, völlig abstruse Urteile und Bedeutungen zuschreibend, immer weiter von ihrem sozialen Umfeld.
Die Ohnmacht des Realen wird sehr gut durch das Unvermögen an einen Sexualpartner zu kommen dargestellt.
Natürlich ist der Icherzähler ein Kacksack. Aber einer mit einem Anliegen, das ich sehr ernst nehme.
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Ursprungsrezension: 4,5⭐️
Moah, welch morbides Buch. Da hat er aber als Erstlingswerk einen rausgewemst.
An alle die sich gerade in keiner gefestigten Gemütslage befinden: Dieses Buch könnte Euch noch tiefer in den Abgrund ziehen.
Noch nie über Depression in dieser nüchternen, analytischen und hoffnungslosen Form gelesen.
In der ersten Hälfte des Buches wusste ich nicht so recht wo Houellebecq hin will, was das alles soll. Passagenweise zitiert der Icherzähler andere Werke, von denen ich nix geschnallt hab. Er driftet immer wieder in total verintellektualisiertes Gefasel ab.
Und dann kommen Passagen in denen ich lauthals Lachen musste, so absurd, tragisch komisch schildert er die Szenen.
Ich habe ihn so dafür gefeiert unattraktive Menschen auf den Plan zu rufen. Nun ja, die Feierstimmung verging mir dann im letzten Drittel gründlich.
Hier hat er meisterhaft die Depression, den Wahnsinn der Gesellschaft, die Gewinner und Verlierer der sexualisierten Gesellschaft verarbeitet.
Eine tiefe Sinnlosigkeit breitete sich aus. Da war ich doch kurz an Camus „Der Fremde“ erinnert.
Viele andere Szenen erinnerten mich an „Faserland“ von Christian Kracht.
Kurzum: ich bin begeistert und will mehr von diesem Wahnsinnigen lesen!!!

[catechism · Rating 1 out of 5]

Our long national nightmare is over. I really, really hated this book. I wish I could give it negative stars. The narrator was both despicable and unspeakably boring (here is an incomplete list of boring things about him: his misogyny, his racism, his treatises on animals, his old breakup, his job, and his depression). I gather the book was supposed to be shocking and edgy -- like how hipster racism is "edgy"! -- and that his philosophical musings were meant to be deep and provoke serious thought on post-modern alienation and the emptiness of life. If only his philosophical musings were not just the puerile ravings of a child, it might have worked! But it's the same old song -- dude is lonely because he is an asshole and blames women for his lack of touch and Life Is Empty and Women Are Cunts. Grow up.

I switched to the French version pretty early on, figuring that at least the exercise of reading in French would keep me going (and also the English translation is terrible). I was right, and now I know way more words for "bitch" in French than I did before, so I guess that's something. I ended up switching back to English when I could no longer tell if I more wanted to kill myself or the narrator.

[Enrique · Rating 4 out of 5]

Como siempre fantástico Houllebeq. Pedazo de narrador, que fácil hace lo difícil y como es capaz de transmitirte con total nitidez su angustia (no dudo que en todos sus libros hay mucho de autobiográfico).

En Ampliación del campo de batalla le he notado una diferencia importante con otras obras suyas posteriores, aquí es muy breve, muy críptico, creo que en esta novela ha dedicado más tiempo a "desescribir" podando y quitando lo superfluo, que a la propia labor como tal de escribir acumulando página tras página.

El resultado es fabuloso, una historia que presenta a un personaje de los que acostumbra, no coment, una narración que va claramente de menos a más, que nos va descubriendo una naturaleza de persona absolutamente atormentada, asombrosa y creíble al 100%. Dudo si darle el 5, no lo descarto a medida que se aposente.

[Marcello S · Rating 4 out of 5]

(1) Primo romanzo di Houellebecq, pubblicato in Francia nel 1994.
Che a scriverlo sembra una vita fa.
Houellebecq aveva già 38 anni.

(2) Di che parla? È una versione embrionale de Le particelle elementari. Ci sono già buona parte dei temi chiave dell’autore.
Asocialità, solitudine e mancanza d’affetto, ricerca sessuale, misoginia, infelicità, angoscia.
C’è qualcosa - prendetelo con le pinze - di Céline, Camus, Bernhard.
In breve: una critica della società contemporanea e della miseria umana.
Sta parlando di noi, anche se buttiamo un occhio e poi ce ne andiamo facendo finta di niente.

(3) Merita? Sì. La prima parte, per me, ha qualche leggero passaggio a vuoto. Qualche momento in cui ho avuto la sensazione di un’opera - per usare un termine iper-abusato quando si fa riferimento a un esordio - acerba.
La seconda parte è decisamente più definita e compatta.
In generale a vincere è lo sguardo sincero, la capacità di scrivere quello che gli altri riescono solo a pensare. Il disorientamento della grande città. Il farmi pensare Questo non sono io, ma non ne sono del tutto sicuro.

(4) È uno di quei libri che alcuni potrebbero trovare esagerato o esasperato. Troppo disilluso, cinico, delirante, pessimista.
Aggiungo che ci sono anche diversi guizzi che, filtrati dall’amarezza in cui sono immersi, strappano un sorriso.

(5) Il titolo (splendido), che vuol dire?
All’interno del libro, Houellebecq la mette così:

In situazione economica perfettamente liberale, c’è chi accumula fortune considerevoli; altri marciscono nella disoccupazione e nella miseria. In situazione sessuale perfettamente liberale, c’è chi ha una vita erotica varia ed eccitante; altri sono ridotti alla masturbazione e alla solitudine. Il liberalismo economico è l’estensione del dominio della lotta, la sua estensione a tutte le età della vita e a tutte le classi della società. Altrettanto, il liberalismo sessuale è l’estensione del dominio della lotta, la sua estensione a tutte le età della vita e a tutte le classi della società. Sul piano economico, Raphael Tisserand appartiene alla schiera dei vincitori; sul piano sessuale, a quella dei vinti. Taluni vincono su entrambi i fronti; altri perdono su entrambi i fronti. Le imprese si disputano alcuni giovani laureati; le femmine si disputano alcuni giovani maschi; i maschi si disputano alcune giovani femmine; lo scompiglio e la confusione sono considerevoli.

(6) E poi c’è il momento della scelta del letto. A quanto pare ho fatto la scelta giusta, anche se credo che a Mr. IKEA in realtà non sarebbe importato granché di giudicarmi:

Il letto, tra tutti i mobili, pone un problema particolarmente ed eminentemente doloroso. Se si tiene alla considerazione del venditore, infatti, si è costretti ad acquistarne uno a due piazze pur non avendone la necessità, pur non disponendo dello spazio dove metterlo. Acquistare un letto a una piazza significa ammettere pubblicamente di non avere una vita sessuale, e di non prevederne alcuna nel futuro - prossimo o remoto che sia (giacché oggigiorno i letti durano a lungo, assai più a lungo del periodo garantito: durano cinque o dieci anni, quando non addirittura venti; si tratta di un investimento importante, che in pratica ti impegna per il resto dei tuoi giorni; in media, come ben si sa, i letti durano più a lungo dei matrimoni). Persino l’acquisto di un letto a una piazza e mezza ti fa passare per piccolo-borghese gretto e meschino; agli occhi dei venditori, il letto a due piazze è l’unico che valga veramente l’acquisto; con un letto a due piazze hai diritto al loro rispetto, alla loro considerazione, quando non addirittura a un lieve sorriso di complicità; in sostanza, quello di acquistare un letto a due piazze è l’unico modo per far colpo su di loro.

(7) Iperrealistico, lucido, presuntuoso. [75/100]

[Núria · Rating 5 out of 5]

'Ampliación del campo de batalla' es el libro bueno de Houellebecq. El auténtico de verdad, el arriesgado de verdad. Después de esto todo va de capa caída y no encontramos nada más que sucedáneos, simples imitaciones de Houellebecq. Sólo en el primer libro de Houellebecq encontramos cinismo, fatalismo y existencialismo amargo que suenan nuevos y sinceros. Un libro que parece que está a medio camino del ensayo y la confesión. Impresionante. Directo y doloroso como un puñetazo en el estómago. Simple y efectivo. ¡Oh, qué tiempos aquellos en los que Michel aún no era un escritor que buscaba la polémica fácil y gratuita!

[Eliasdgian · Rating 3 out of 5]

Η επέκταση του πεδίου της πάλης είναι το πρώτο μυθιστόρημα του Μισέλ Ουελμπέκ. Ολιγοσέλιδο, τυπώθηκε το 1996 από έναν μικρό εκδοτικό οίκο, και, μολονότι αγνοήθηκε από την κριτική, εκτιμήθηκε από τους αναγνώστες του, που, διαφημίζοντάς το από στόμα σε στόμα, συνετέλεσαν στο να αποτελέσει την εκδοτική επιτυχία – έκπληξη της χρονιάς. Το καλωσόρισμα του Ουελμπέκ στο παγκόσμιο λογοτεχνικό στερέωμα έχει ήδη συντελεστεί –και δεν ήταν καθόλου θορυβώδες.

Τριαντάχρονος αναλυτής - προγραμματιστής, (μεσαίο) στέλεχος μιας εταιρείας πληροφορικής, αναλαμβάνει να παραδώσει ορισμένα σεμινάρια σχετικά με την εφαρμογή ενός λογισμικού που η εταιρεία του πούλησε πρόσφατα στο Υπουργείο Γεωργίας. Τα επιμορφωτικά αυτά σεμινάρια θα διαρκέσουν περίπου είκοσι ημέρες, στις οποίες ο ήρωας του μυθιστορήματος του Ουελμπέκ (και εν πολλοίς alter ego του συγγραφέα που όταν εξέδωσε το εν θέματι βιβλίο δούλευε στη Βουλή ως αναλυτής – προγραμματιστής) θα περιπλανηθεί στην Γαλλική επαρχία: Ρουέν, Ντιζόν, Λα Ρος-Συρ-Υών. Στο ταξίδι του αυτό, όπου πρόκειται «να υπάρξει μια αλλαγή, ένα ταρακούνημα, δεν θα είναι μόνος. Θα τον συνοδέψει ένας από τους συναδέλφους του στο γραφείο, ο Ραφαέλ Τισεράν, ο οποίος, λόγω της εξωτερικής του εμφάνισης («άσχημος, με όψη που απωθεί τις γυναίκες»), δεν είχε ποτέ του καμία σεξουαλική ζωή, γεγονός που τον κατατάσσει σε προφανώς χειρότερη μοίρα από τον κεντρικό ήρωα του βιβλίου, η τελευταία σχέση του οποίου έληξε άδοξα δυο χρόνια πριν. Με βλέμμα άλλοτε ψυχρό, κι άλλοτε γεμάτο οίκτο και συμπόνια, ο ήρωάς μας εξετάζει προσεκτικά τον Τισεράν. Αλλά, αντί να μείνει στο πεδίο της παρατήρησης και της παρηγόριας, εξωθεί τον Τισεράν στη δράση. Ο μόνος τρόπος να κατακτήσει την ομορφιά που ποθεί είναι να της επιβληθεί με τη βία, να γίνει επιτέλους αυτός ο κυρίαρχος του παιχνιδιού, να σκοτώσει. Στο τρίτο και τελευταίο μέρος του μυθιστορήματος παρακολουθούμε την κατάρρευση του ήρωα, την είσοδό του στον κόσμο της κατάθλιψης.

Χαρακτήρες αποπροσανατολισμένοι αλληλεπιδρούν σε έναν κόσμο που, έτσι γυμνός που απόμεινε από αξίες και ιδανικά, δείχνει να τους μοιάζει. Άνθρωποι που λαχταρούν τη σωματική (και πνευματική) επαφή, που διψούν για μια αγκαλιά κι ένα χάδι, ζουν κατά μόνας, χωρίς αγάπη, βιώνοντας εφήμερες σχέσεις σε ένα περιβάλλον σεξουαλικού φιλελευθερισμού, όπου, όμοια με τον άκρατο οικονομικό φιλελευθερισμό, παράγονται φαινόμενα απόλυτης φτώχιας: «ορισμένοι κάνουν έρωτα κάθε μέρα∙ άλλοι πέντε – έξι φορές σ’ όλη τους τη ζωή, ή και ποτέ. Κάποιοι κάνουν έρωτα με δεκάδες γυναίκες, άλλοι με καμία. Είναι αυτό που επικαλείται ‘ο νόμος της αγοράς’».

Απόψεις, άλλοτε περισσότερο κι άλλοτε λιγότερο, αφοριστικές, ένας διαρκής πεσιμισμός, και μερικές ωραίες φιλοσοφικές αναφορές, είναι μερικά από τα δομικά στοιχεία, κάποια από τα ‘στοιχειώδη σωματίδια’ (για να χρησιμοποιήσει κανείς αμιγώς ‘ουελμπεκική’ ορολογία) που συνθέτουν και επεκτείνουν το πεδίο της πάλης.

[Marc Lamot · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was my first Houellebecq, and also one of his first works (1994). From what I had read about him already, I think the chance is not big that he is ever going to become one of my favorite writers: cynicism, nihilism, and pessimism in general are wasted on me.

Reading "the extension of the domain of fight" (this is a literal translation of the French title; the English title summarized it in a wonderful way in just one word, "whatever") very quickly called in memories of Sartre's "La Nausée" and also a little bit of Camus ' "L'Etranger". It's as if Houellebecq has replaced these nihilistic masterpieces in our time (well, to the nineties to be exact). With at least 1 big difference: the ironic undertone. In addition, with Houellebecq you get a whole social analysis on top of it, on neoliberalism and the commercialization of our society. Interesting, but very one-sided, because the focus remains on the futility and hopelessness of life. In the end the author surprised me positively) with the poetic description of an intense nature experience. I am looking forward to Houellebecq’s next work, but I was not really impressed by this one.

[Baba · Rating 3 out of 5]

A man in his 30s with a solid career is depressed with the ways of the modern world, where Houellebecq postulates that the sexual revolution of the 1960s has led to the capitalisation of sexual encounters, where an unattractive underclass is exiled whilst the good looking privilege, overdose on sex, sloth and corruption.

Despite being mostly about two depressed men looking for human contact, this book is surprisingly funny at times. I can now see why I liked Houellebecq so much when I was younger he has a way of writing the reality of the human condition, warts and all, which most other writers seen unable to. There's no censor at all in Houellebecq's works. 7 out of 12.

[Juan Nalerio · Rating 3 out of 5]

Terminé de leerlo y me vino el bajón, la desesperanza, me sentí amargado.

Houellebecq, con un relato en primera persona nos dice mucho. Por un lado, el hombre moderno está sólo, hay carencia de amor y de afecto. Las relaciones humanas son un intercambio de información (la profesión del protagonista es programador informático)

Por otro, el liberalismo económico nos destruye. La sociedad es hipócrita y debemos ponernos máscaras para no mostrar nuestras debilidades.

El libro tiene muchos puntos en común con su otra obra, "Las partículas elementales", me gustaría leer algo que compare ambas.

[Hux · Rating 3 out of 5]

This wasn't quite what I was expecting. It's Houellebecq's first novel so maybe that explains the sense of something being off, the lack of his usual humour, his nihilism, his style, and the focus on Western civilisation's decline as a whole. This thing is more constrained, more depressing, and more precise in its exploration of sex as a capitalist commodity (ushering in a future of men who can acquire an abundance and men who, one might even call them incels, cannot). As ever Houellebecq is ahead of the curve and sees what's coming before it arrives but the book felt like it lacked something. 

The story revolves around an unnamed computer programmer coming to terms with his worsening ennui and depression, his banal life, his dull meetings, the book a classic example of the existential novel (which I normally love but without the opinion which I prefer these books to have). This is almost a very mature work, cold, distant, a more thoughtful version of Houellebecq which is surprising as his later works become a lot more cynical and funny. The book's prose is also very matter of fact, occasionally staid and functional, and the world his protagonist inhabits is indeed dull and lifeless. When he encourages his friend Tisserand, an ugly man who cannot get laid, to kill a black man who has left the club with a girl and taken her to the beach, there is, of course, a strong whiff of Meursault and his Arab. And here, in this moment, aside from the general swipes at modernity, we have one of the main themes of the piece. Namely, that the sexual liberation movement did not produce a socialist free-love environment where everyone benefited, but instead was gobbled up by the capitalist decree of status and consumption. In other words, high value men will reap the rewards while ugly men, like Tisserand, will sit in the corner of the club being repeatedly rejected. It's at this point that the Smiths lyrics popped into my head:

There's a club if you'd like to go. You could meet somebody who really loves you. So you go and you stand on your own. And you leave on your own. And you go home. And you cry. And you want to die.

It's an interesting conclusion which Houellebecq is making and one which I think has proven to be correct. He even includes some Muslim terrorism in the book to once again reiterate that he sees what's coming while the rest of us are busy buying CDs and bed linen. It's very effective and very accurate. But again, I just didn't enjoy this as much as his other works for some reason. It was, for me, a little too dry, and a little too on the nose. It works well as an existential piece but it lacks Houellebecq's nihilistic touch, his personality not as fully present here as it is in his later works. As a first novel it's pretty great but compared to what was to come, it's a tad forgettable.

[Marianna · Rating 5 out of 5]

DIO HA VOLUTO DISUGUAGLIANZE, NON INGIUSTIZIE

“Il liberalismo economico è l’estensione dell’ambito della lotta, la sua estensione a tutte le età della vita e a tutte le classi della società. Allo stesso modo, il liberalismo sessuale è l’estensione dell’ambito della lotta, la sua estensione a tutte le età della vita e a tutte le classi della società”.

L’opera di esordio di Michel Houellebecq ha un nome altisonante, richiama qualcosa di tecnico, magari uno studio sociale. Ma non è un saggio, è un romanzo breve che ha per protagonista un trentenne, un informatico che ha una buona posizione lavorativa, non è attraente, ma possiede quel minimo di fascino che gli permette ogni tanto di abbordare qualche donna. Il giovane che conoscerà all’interno della storia, un certo Tisserand , invece, verso cui la natura non è stata certo generosa con il suo aspetto fisico, è un vero frustrato dal punto di vista sentimentale e sessuale. Anche Catherine Lechardoy, la giovane informatica che conosce in una trasferta di lavoro non è dotata di bellezza: “No, non è proprio granché. Oltre ai denti marci ha i capelli di un colore indefinibile, gli occhi piccoli e rossi di rabbia. Seno e culo impercettibili. Dio non è stato molto generoso con lei.”
Tutti cerchiamo di assicurarci un po’ di affetto, nella società capitalistica anche il bambino di sette anni
“che gioca con i soldatini sul tappeto del salotto. Ti chiedo di guardarlo attentamente. Dopo il divorzio dei genitori, non ha più un padre. Vede pochissimo la madre, che occupa una posizione importante in un’azienda di cosmetici. Eppure gioca con i soldatini, e ha l’aria di appassionarsi molto a queste rappresentazioni del mondo e della guerra. Non c’è dubbio che stia già soffrendo un po’ di mancanza d’affetto;(...)

Nel caso del protagonista, voce narrante (probabilmente anche alias dello scrittore, che nella vita è stato un informatico) e dei personaggi sopracitati, la bellezza fisica ha lo stesso ruolo del denaro nella società del liberismo economico, serve a operare differenziazioni e discriminazioni: la vita è una continua lotta per sopravvivere e per accaparrarci quel minimo di affetto necessario per non disperarci nella solitudine e nella vacuità del solipsismo.
La penna di Houellebecq è sin da subito tagliente, schietta e scabra, per niente consolatoria “La scrittura non consola affatto. La scrittura rappresenta, delimita. Introduce un sospetto di coerenza, un’idea di realismo”. In alcuni passaggi le pagine trasudano malinconia, qualche accennata punta di lirismo. Spietato e sincero, a tratti snob. Disturbante.
Divorato in una giornata. Uno dei libri più belli dello scrittore francese, insieme a “La carta e il territorio”.

[Jason Pettus · Rating 4 out of 5]

THE GREAT COMPLETIST CHALLENGE: In which I revisit older authors and attempt to read every book they ever wrote

Currently in the challenge: Margaret Atwood | Christopher Buckley | Daphne Du Maurier | Michel Houellebecq | John Irving | Kazuo Ishiguro | Shirley Jackson | Bernard Malamud | VS Naipaul | Tim Powers | Philip Roth | John Updike | Kurt Vonnegut

I've already read and enjoyed professional misanthrope Michel Houellebecq's two newest novels, The Possibility of an Island and Submission, so that made it only natural to add him to my Completist Challenge after recently being reminded of him (specifically, because of a recent article in the New York Times, about how the sexual politics Houellebecq foretold in his early novels seems to be eerily coming true in an age of meninists, GamerGate and incels), especially enticing here because Houellebecq has only published six novels over the course of his career, making it easier than normal to get him checked off my list and done for good.

Like many of the authors in this challenge, Houellebecq seems to have started out rather inauspiciously with his first book, 1994's Whatever (first published in English in 1998), a much simpler and more inconsequential story than the absurdist sagas he would become known for later in his career. It's the tale of one of those sour, unpleasant autistic sociopaths in your company's IT department who you always dread dealing with, the one time every three months he's forced to crawl out from his basement hole and help you ("Did you try turning it off and back on again? God!!!!!"); narrated in his voice, it's ostensibly a ho-hum record of his aggressively uninteresting life, but through throwaway comments it slyly paints a portrait of white male entitlement, obsessive hatred of women and sex, and barely contained homicidal rage that lies at the heart of our seemingly milquetoast narrator.

It's easy to see with this book why so many academic intellectuals were attracted to Houellebecq when he first started publishing (this book was often compared to Camus' The Stranger when it first came out); because here in his first novel Houellebecq still has a kind of emotional distance from his narrator and and doesn't declare a judgement of his actions, making it a more traditional kind of character portrait that lets readers assume that the author means for us to have some disdain for this deeply flawed protagonist. It wasn't until later novels that Houellebecq made it explicit that he agrees 100 percent with the opinions of his repulsive narrators, and sees these kinds of 4chan trolls and school shooters as the true unsung heroes of our dirty, corrupted society, about as close to pure nihilism as a contemporary artist gets who is still managing to crank out commercial bestsellers. (Well, and filmmaker Michael Haneke as well.)

That makes Houellebecq troubling as a popular author, because he's essentially not only holding up a dark mirror to society, but also gleefully declaring that the sexist, racist, murderous monster you see in the reflection is a much better human being than you, because at least they're pure in their convictions and actually follow through on their hatred, while the most you can manage is to post some snotty tweets about how much Donald Trump sucks. If you were really a person worth admiring, Houellebecq's increasingly outrageous novels claim, you would've already stormed the White House with your assault rifle; and the fact that you haven't means your opinion is worthless about his tales of the people who have. This message gets clearer and clearer with each subsequent book Houellebecq has written; but it's all right there in Whatever as well, just sublimated enough that many at the time mistakenly thought he was a good little liberal who was criticizing such behavior. Spoiler alert: HE WASN'T.

Next up: The joy train keeps chugging along with 1998's The Elementary Particles, about a man who has devoted his life to pioneering work in cloning, specifically so that the human race will never again have to deal with sex or love in order to keep propagating the species. Good times!