The book emerged out of anger; anger at spiritual powerlessness,
metaphysical emptiness and omnipresent consumption, at easiness of liberalism
and duplicity of religion; and above all at our inability to experience
happiness.
The blurb of the book unfailingly hints at the ominous purport of it.
Atomised is the second book of the author I have read and I would not have come
across it, had it not been for the earlier reading of Uległość, probably the
most famous novel of Mr Houellebecq, whose premiere coincided with attacks
on Charlie Hebdo editorial office. I read “Submission” to catch up with several
folks around who had been familiar with the book and somewhat moved by it.
Slightly stirred up, yet not enchanted by the book, I voluntarily reached out
for “Atomised”, released at the beginning of the twenty-first century, yet
emanating with the same degree of glumness as the more famous work.
Looking at the evolution of Western societies, one can say they drift in
the same direction since 1968 and things have not taken turn for a better since
early 2000s. The book dwells on side effects of unfettered liberalism and
individualism fought over in 1968 and spread blissfully across the lands west
of the Iron Curtain. The society which holds dear independence of a single
human being, inadvertently slackens off the human being’s relationships with
other people. Lifting social norms and abandoning inhibitions in several realms
of life, particularly sexual life, has deprived humans of the taste of the
forbidden fruit. Whatever is come by without effort is let go without pain…
Unrestrained consumption and abundance of goods weaned people off appreciating
what they possess. Pursuit of one’s own happiness in isolation from other
people led individuals to satisfaction with the they have achieved that cannot
be shared with anyone…
The very book and pictures it paints go forward with the plot. It starts
off with dejecting depiction of overwhelming nihilism, construed more broadly than
just demise of values and authorities. The characters are unable to find sense
in anything they do or whatever happens to them. The overpowering inability to
draw pleasure from not only ordinary stuff but also the experiences which
should be pleasurable arises from being shaped as insatiable by the culture of
consumerism, but more importantly from too loose relationships with people.
Were they closer and more valuable, finding sense in what people do would be
far easier.
Then the novel goes on to turn into pornography several times more
scandalising than infamous “Fifty Shades of Grey”. Brushing aside detailed
descriptions of bodily entertainments, even if the author wishes to play with
his own fantasies, the message put across through licentious scenes is that the
very intercourse, especially in profusion and with accidental partners, no
matter how exquisite, adds not much more value to a spirit than crass
masturbation. Bad news for those seeking relief and pleasure in sexual life
devoid of intimacy, as you move on, you begin to realise you go nowhere and
lose sight of any contentment.
And as you read on towards the back cover, sadness is given off in such
vast amounts that it takes over the reader. The tragic end is inevitable, as
characters have taken the path leading to it several years earlier. The only
question one should ask, is whether in circumstances imposed on by life and
society surrounding them, they had the chance to arrange their lives
differently.
The author incisively tears to pieces the attainments of post-1968
Western Societies, yet the blame must not be put on social framework, but on
people who could not resist those direful norms and swam with the tide, as such
choice was the most convenient. The decay of inter-human relationship is illustrated
in the book on its every page. The pathology has its roots in barely
non-existent bonds between parents and children. Thus children, not loved and
cared for properly in their formative years, are incapable of building healthy
relationships with other people as adults. Their contact with parents is lost
and they learn about their deaths from strangers, then not shedding a single
tear when parents are buried. They find no common ground with their siblings so
they talk to one another only when they really need to. They cannot make more
than shallow acquaintances, the one based rather on mutual benefits rather than
care, devotion and spiritual intimacy. Their marriages are meant to break up,
their contacts with children are meant to demise, they are bound to pass away
in solitude. With such emotional disability, the society is bound to break down
into atoms, each adrift without direction. One can only ask who designed the
world in such way and who has power to change it.
Truth be told, I read the book in February, yet the right moment to
review it ensued after last week’s not the most joyful note.
Yesterday morning, before setting off to the swimming pool, I signed in
to facebook on my phone. The first news item from the feed was a (high-school)
friend’s request to lend her a suitcase having dimensions of cabin luggage, as
her new online-ordered one has not been delivered in time. My first thought was
whether to ask her to come to pick up mine or jump into the car and bring the
suitcase to her place some 20 kilometres away. And then a penny dropped!
Why the hell have I rushed to help her? Why do I always care the most?
If I posted a similar appeal, would she even read it until the end? If I were
in need, would she take the trouble to help me in any way, would she sacrifice
her time and energy for me? After all we have not seen for a few years and it
is uncertain whether we will meet soon, so why? For the sake of clarity – I have
not even got in touch with her.
So what drove my behaviour? I googled the phrase “Why do I always care
the most” and the English-language Internet responded to me most probably I
suffer from inferiority complex and in such way seek people’s approval. Loads
of nonsense! I have come up with two other reasons. Firstly, I take pleasure in helping
people, watching they are happier or better off because of my deeds – this is
commendable in essence, yet without reciprocity, with time a
good-doer loses heart. Secondly, I simply seek company…
For the end, two questions which I have at the back of my head me since
last Sunday:
1. Should I turn on my the birthday reminder on facebook?
2. Should I do something about the 10-years-after-graduation reunion or
let things drift, because given reaction of former classmates, there is no use
in meeting up?
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