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15 of 18 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
When a snack is as tasty as a meal., 9 Jul 2004
Mixed reviews for the hardback version of this book, mostly regarding its length. I enjoyed it immensely, but then, I never really got into 'Atomised', much preferring 'Platform'. OK, 'Lanzarote' is a short (very short) story, in which nothing much happens. Whereas it was said of Beckett's greatest play 'nothing happens... twice', it could be argued that in 'Lanzarote' we don't even get double the nothingness. So what do we get? A taut, well-written, evocative, erotic, snapshot of a brief moment in time. Like the photographs which accompany the novella, the text itself - the story - is one frame abstracted from a complete roll. Where the rest of that roll is, who knows? That isn't important. Houellebecq speaks as he finds; unlike those British / American (there really isn't much difference these days - they're all racing for the prize) who dare not speak their minds, MH really doesn't seem to care. And that is why his fiction glows so brightly: it has the rare quality of honestly, and of respect. Sometimes his characters are a little predictable insofar as we have preconceived ideas of national characteristics, but don't all authors and film-makers prey on this? Let's face it, the world is a small place, but 6 billion is an awful lot of people. We can't all be the same, have the same belief systems, despite BushBlair's best efforts. But this takes us off the point really. The bottom line is that Houellebecq is a lighthouse in the middle of a dull grey sea (metaphorically speaking, obviously - though who knows what he looks like, his picture's not on the cover for whatever reason he sees fit. This book is tiny, nothing much happens, the characters are pretty odious, and it doesn't do much for Lanzarote's tourism business, but the book is funny (as I was pleased one hardback reviewer here noticed), readable, clever, original, and thought-provoking. I liked it a lot, and I look forward to the next one already. Who knows, I might even have a stab at 'Atomised' again.
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by Michel Houellebecq
by Michel Houellebecq
by Michel Houellebecq
by Michel Houellebecq
by Michel Houellebecq
