The word "ok" doesn't really match my response to Houellebecq's dark story of a post-spiritual faith society. However, he writes with confidence capturing the disillusioned worldview of two French half-brothers; one who embodies an emotionless, scientific life, the other a life of pornographic hedonism. Isolation, self-indulgence, and despair along with the fear of aging and death make the work downright depressing. I finished reading the book because a college student asked me to and gave me his copy.

While the author is an atheist, I sensed that he mourns the passing of religious belief. ( )

I read Platform years ago and saw this in a used book store. This is a much deeper book about...well it is kind of hard to say what it is about.
Narcissism, sex, two brothers, philosophies, infidelity. It really covers a lot of ground. ( )

Life ending depressing ( )

Una de les millors obres d´Houellebecq. Plena de reflexions interessants. ( )

The Good:
Beginning with his strengths, Houellebecq can write good prose even in translation. I noticed a pattern by which he produces the impression of succinctness/completion by placing the second descriptive sentence of a paragraph at its end: What would have been the second introductory detail closes the following paragraph,

“...Sometimes he cycles cross-country, pedaling as hard as he can, filling his lungs with a taste of the infinite. He does not know it yet, but the infinity of childhood is a brief one. The countryside flashes past.”

H. employs this twist many times, and I wouldn't call it a cheap trick.

The Bad:
Houellebecq doesn't write bad science fiction. He uses bad science to write bad fiction. Perhaps standards were different in the early aughts, but a modern reader can tell H. has no specialization or interest in science beyond its service in supporting his ideology. It is impossible to believe H.'s affected scientific tone with its repetitions and buzzwords, especially after having read the late work of DFW. (Compare this work with DFW's Mister Squishy, which allows the science to speak for itself and provide the negative space in which the story exists.)

The response to accusations of misogyny (and worse) remains that the author has somehow maintained a subtle form of ironic distance. We simply are too offended to provide an objective literary critique. Yet we all know that which is said half in jest is already more than truthful. It's incredibly naive to imagine that Houellebecq’s fans aren't enjoying precisely the 'misogynistic' aspects of the work they disavow in public. H.'s misogyny is well-tailored to the STEM youth of today, who appreciate any excuse to use 'science' to justify the social perspective they already possess. (Note: One finds a similar pattern within certain branches of ‘evo-psych’, which continues to gain popularity among reactionaries.)

Of course, it is possible to read work one disagrees with (and to enjoy it too!). Unfortunately that is not possible in this case, because such trappings as ‘prose’ and ‘style’ are more or less completely dissipated after the exposition. From then on it's a prolonged, unpleasant coitus until the epilogue. There, the pseudo-science makes a triumphant return, and we are made to believe that the ‘love’ portrayed in the novel, too archetypal and reactionary to be real, was something other than pure illusion. ( )