This is the first book from Michel Houellebecq that I’ve read.
I was told that his writing style was very recognizable. I can see why. It’s written in first person and the wording is unlike anything I read before — very crude, detailed and interspersed with sentences that seemingly add no value whatsoever. This makes for a read that is both incredibly interesting and amazingly dull at times.
This summary from the fourth cover is good description of the content:
This novel about the ravages of a world without kindness, without solidarity, of world in which mutations have become uncontrollable, is also a novel about remorse and regret.
In addition, it’s also a book about love and about the difficulty of being a farmer in France nowadays.
I will most likely read other books from Houellebecq.