The Elementary Particles and Lanzarote by Michel Houellebecq

Michel Houellebecq’s second novel, The Elementary Particles (originally published in French as Les Particules élémentaires and published in the UK as Atomised) is a uniquely intriguing maze of a book. The story of two long-lost half brothers, only vaguely aware of each other, and their adventures with the scientific world, the vision of a secular France and the negative, meaningless lives they lead is one of the strongest works of modern fiction, English or French. At moments hilarious and tragic, Houellebecq’s novels show a strong tie to the works of Camus and Sartre, continuing an existential search for meaning, if there is any meaning in life.

Lanzarote, a short novella published in 2003, continues riffing on the themes of The Elementary Particles, set in a hotel in a desert. The guests of the hotel regularly engage in bizarre sexual practices with each other, frequently as a way of trying to find meaning or connection with each other. Through both books, the idea of meaningless relationships, the appeal of religious cults and the sense of completion at the end of the twentieth century—the idea that all that remains is the destruction of our Western ideals via extremism. These two darkly comic novels showcase Houellebecq’s deep and sometimes disturbing obsession with touchy subjects and awkward situations.

Orlando by Virginia Woolf

The tale of a young Elizabethan boy who grows into a man and later becomes a woman who lives well into the 20^th century is one of Virginia Woolf’s most interesting and provocative novels. Nigel Nicholson described it as the “longest love-letter in the English language,” as it was written in exaltation of Vita Sackville-West, her lover at the time. The prose almost melts off the pages. Woolf writes long descriptive passages which clearly influenced the style of John Updike, Toni Morrison and Susan Sontag’s fiction (though whether that is a good thing or a bad thing in Sontag’s case, I won’t comment).

I watched the film adaption by Sally Potter, who remained fairly faithful to the novel, but destroyed its sense of completion, coming to an end, by updating the ending of the story and adding extra characters. That said, dues must be paid to Tilda Swinton. It is not easy to play a man who does not age and who wakes up in the Middle East to find the embassy where he was staying has been ransacked and he has now become a she. Woolf’s most comic novel still entertains over eighty years after it was first published.

Atonement by Ian McEwan

Ian McEwan (occasionally referred to as “Ian Macabre”) served up this brilliant novel in 2001, following his Booker Prize winning Amsterdam. Adapted into a mostly inferior film (save one or two scenes with the great Vanessa Redgrave), McEwan took the English country-house novel and turned it on its head. The story of young Briony as she ages and the events she witnesses makes the most compelling reading. Again, Virginia Woolf’s voice rings through many of the passages in this book, as it does in all of Mr. McEwan’s recent novels (particularly On Chesil Beach).

There are some critics who have mentioned the fact that it was highly unusual for a family to take a servant’s child in, not to mention pay for that child’s education. However, those critics are mere spoil-sports. This novel is truly a pride and joy, a reason to hope for good novels in the 21^st century.

Bonjour Tristesse, A Certain Smile and Those Without Shadows by Francoise Sagan

Francoise Sagan’s first three novels were first written and published when she was not much older than I am. The wear and tear that these three books have gone through over the years is similar to the wear and tear of the stories themselves, all three of which seem like the fantasies of a bored schoolchild on the cusp of adulthood and wanting so badly to fit in in 1950’s French society. Delightfully light-hearted in spite of tragedy and drama, these three books show how to make writing look effortless. All three are variations on the same theme—a young woman, a young man, a father figure and a mistress tucked away somewhere—featuring many cigarettes, characters who spout Sartre-esque world views and then go to bed together, fast cars and lots of liquor. Usually the young woman wants to escape from the constraints of family, school, work, what-have-you, only to find that these things are due more than she gives them. Though they show the faults of fiction written in youth, these three brief novels of desire and escape give an escape to the reader and a desire to know more about the young (alas, no longer with us) authoress.

The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen

I hated Jonathan Franzen. I really did. I had attempted to read his 2006 memoir, The Discomfort Zone, and found his narrative voice to be like a leaking faucet, annoying and a waste of resources. Yet when I began The Corrections, something clicked. The story took me away, as almost all good fiction should. A family coming together for one last Christmas may seem such a cliché of modern fiction (especially in paperback romance novels) and yet Franzen is able to make the entire series of events work in a way that avoids the predictable. Darkly funny, this book does not set out to make the reader comfortable. Instead, the entire thing is an exposé of suburban nervousness about life, love, work, sex, health, food and family.

Elegy for Iris by John Bayley

The death of Iris Murdoch and her decent into Alzheimer’s disease is the background of his memoir of her last years. The devastating realization that life does not happily go on comes through on every page. It is as if Mr. Bayley, knowing that his Iris will not remember her own past very soon, has written this book as a way of remembering for her. There are light-hearted sections, and sections which make the reader feel sorrowful and vacant. What comes through is that, even if Murdoch had never become a world-famous novelist/philosopher, the two of them would have still been the same academics, the same scholars. Their lives were based around their pursuit of knowledge and mutual love.

The Humbling by Philip Roth

Yet again Mr. Roth returns with a wonderful novel. In spite of all the bad reviews that The Humbling has gotten, I must say that I find it to be one of the strongest and most interesting books that I have read this year. Yet again I am convinced that at the age of 76, Philip Roth has many more stories to tell and the energy and know-how to tell them. The words in his most recent book flow one into the other, the story moves clearly and quickly. Emotions do not seem false or manic, as they are in some books. Rather, Roth imitates the reality of “actor’s block” (the thespian version of “writer’s block”) with considerable care and skill. Some of the most interesting scenes in the novella belong to the first few chapters, where Roth places his character, Simon Axler, in a mental institution due to a severe depression caused by both his wife’s leaving him and his inability to act. It is here that the story has its best scenes. The dialogue is crisp and full of typical Rothian humor and syntax.