Michel Houellebecq: Platform

Reviewed by MICHAEL LARSEN*

Michel Houellebecq has caused much controversy with this, his third novel. He has been accused of being a shocking racist, has been sued for "inciting racial hatred" and his remark in the European press that "Islam is the stupidest of religions" is likely to inspire a Rushdie-type fatwa on him. His previous bestseller Atomised detonated France - and the world - with its headline-grabbing attitudes to sex, the left, and civilisation in general.

Platform has done much the same. It is frustrating, obtuse and unashamedly explicit. It may be shocking, but ultimately all these parts are not there gratuitously. Houellebecq's concerns are philosophically social and, by exploring these, he casts his learned eye over religion, ethics and general morality. And if all that sounds too much, surprisingly, it's not. The 300-odd pages roll along steadily.

The main character, Michel, is like the author: often drunk, a loner, with a loathing of Western society. The fictional Michel is comfortably off, works in the Ministry of Culture as an accountant and funds arts projects at whim. When his father dies at the hands of a Muslim who misunderstands his relationship with his housekeeper, Michel inherits a reasonable sum and heads to Thailand for a holiday.

There, he avails himself of the local flesh offerings, meets the quiet but intriguing Valerie and, on returning to Paris, becomes involved in her life.

Valerie is a high-flier in the tourist industry, and when she and the maritally troubled Jean-Yves break away to work for a global giant, things look rosy. But the market is fiercely competitive, so Michel suggests marketing sex tours to exotic Eastern locations. "The Western male can't relate to the Western female," says Houellebecq, "and females of the East are so poor all they have left to sell are their beautiful bodies."

Michel's idea of bringing the two together initially makes perfect sense, and the tours take off. He and Valerie settle in Thailand and enjoy their success. Then everything comes apart, catastrophically.

Michel can't relate to others and hates people in equal measure. When he surprises himself with a rare act of kindness, he explains: "On the whole, I am not good, it is not one of my characteristics. Humanitarians disgust me, the fate of others is generally a matter of indifference to me."

He thinks a great deal, but is not moved to action. It is as if he is driven to indifference. He shrugs his shoulders philosophically and washes his hands of the human condition. The one thing that ends up driving him forward, for which he shows a deep sense of gratitude, is his love for Valerie. He considers their affair to be something he is lucky to have acquired, and almost a freak of fate. It confuses him, this chance at love, but doesn't overly disturb him.

Houellebecq has deep and well-researched concerns about the breakdown of the Western way of life. The wealthy and ambitious chase a dream they don't understand; the poor chase the same dream but riot in the streets when they can't get it. So how should individuals behave, and what are their responsibilities, if society itself has come unstuck?

I found this book fascinating. While it is original, a line can be drawn from Camus and Sartre to this present-day rationalist. Like, Atomised, it will shock you into thinking about the world at large, and may even make your own world seem a little narrow. Isn't that what good literature should do?

The horrific bomb blasts in Bali show Houellebecq is, if nothing else, uncannily prescient.

Random House $45

* Michael Larsen is an Auckland freelance writer