Michel Houellebecq: «Sérotonine»

Arriving in bookshops on January 4, the author's seventh novel superstar Michel Houellebecq, Serotonin, is one of the most heartbreaking. The author tells us the story of a man, Florent-Claude, a forty-six year-old agricultural engineer who failed to seize his chance and who, stupidly, naively, missed out on his life. But beyond the story of a wasted destiny, Michel Houellebecq once again confirms, for some a prophetic talent, for others, that he really does possess a fine and particularly sharp eye for today's world.

Is Houellebecq a visionary, a prophet? That’s what you could read in the press and hear on radio shows when Serotonin. It must be said that the writer does indeed have a troubled past. Some are quick to see in Platform a premonition of the September 11 attacks, just as Submission the attacks against Charlie Hebdo. Strange coincidences, to which is now added Serotonin.

In Search of Lost Loves

Through his famous flat prose—or, as his detractors would say, his lack of style—Houellebecq plunges us into the dreary and mundane daily life of Florent-Claude Labrouste. Alter ego a literary figure, a sort of «little Michel» who, like the writer, has a degree in agronomy and lives with his Japanese partner on the twenty-ninth floor of the Totem Tower—a gigantic concrete morel mushroom located in the 15th^th district of Paris. A interest for the high-rises and working-class neighborhoods—a trait he seems to share, incidentally, with his creator. Despite holding a prestigious position at the Ministry of Agriculture, Florent-Claude remains deeply unhappy—even depressed. A quintessentially Houellebecqian character, in the end—a sort of synthesis between Bruno from the Elementary Particles and the narrator of’Extending the scope of the fight and who, like him, also works at the Department of Agriculture.

But while these two heroes confront their pasts and manage to survive—or even thrive—despite their mistakes, the same cannot be said for Florent-Claude. For him, weary and weighed down by his pain and grief, the violence of remorse and regret is too raw, too intense. Broken, Florent-Claude decides one day to leave everything behind: his job, his apartment, his partner—his relationship, he’ll say, was «on its last legs» anyway. And so, like more than 12,000 people in France every year, Florent decides to disappear, leaving no trace, without saying a word.

While the novel focuses in its first part on Florent’s departure—and may, in this respect, come across as somewhat slow-moving and at times even relatively boring—its structure comes to the book’s rescue and helps make up for this sluggish pace. Reminiscent of The Possibility of an Island, the narrative becomes, in certain places, elliptical and deceptively confusing, and is peppered with flashbacks and other sociological observations. Readers will thus be amused by the irony of certain remarks such as «As soon as you mention leaving France, all French people think it’s wonderful—it’s a characteristic trait of theirs; even if it’s to go to Greenland, they think it’s wonderful […]», or even «It is wrong for lovers to speak the same language; it is wrong for them to truly understand one another, to communicate through words, for speech is not meant to create love, but division and hatred; speech separates as it is spoken […]». As for the numerous flashbacks, they allow us to delve into the narrator’s memories—memories that sometimes clash in terms of the chronology of events—and even seem to contradict one another at times, though only on the surface. As the story unfolds, Florent’s identity becomes less and less fragmented and gains more substance.

A sense of concern for this character—who, incidentally, comes across as anything but likable, given that he is misogynistic, racist, whiny, and weak—begins to take shape and emerge. Like Bukowski’s characters, it is undoubtedly these very traits that make our protagonist interesting. As the narrator navigates the chambers of memory alongside him, he reflects on the women he has loved and with whom he could have been happy: Kate, his first great love when he was still a student; Camille, the one with whom he should have spent his life. And it is through these hesitations that we meet one of the novel’s central characters: Aymeric, Florent’s college friend and perhaps even his only friend.

The Reasons for the Anger

Aymeric, a former aristocrat turned farmer, is pursuing an ideal: to farm in a way that respects animals and adheres to organic standards. But Europe, its economy, and the harsh realities of an era—one we all recognize well—do not offer the most favorable conditions for this kind of ideal. And as Aymeric says with frustration, «The more I try to do things right, the less I seem to get anywhere.».

Through this endearing character, who occupies a unique place among the author’s cast of characters, the writer tackles a theme he knows very well—or at least one he is uniquely qualified to understand and describe. Serotonin It indeed highlights the economic insecurity faced by thousands of farmers throughout France. And the author paints a chilling picture of their future.

Yet this is where reality meets fiction, as Houellebecq imagines a peasant revolt that echoes the «Yellow Vests» movement—the very same movement that, at the time Houellebecq was writing his novel, had not yet emerged. A prediction that demonstrates just how perceptive the author of Serotonin remains crystal clear and incisive. Houellebecq, a science fiction fan, must be amused to have, once again, hit the nail on the head.

Clouds, at night

Beyond the prophetic dimension often attributed to Houellebecq’s work, there emerges from Serotonin a particularly intense, overwhelming sadness. And perhaps even more so than in his previous novels—which is saying something. By naming his book after the hormone associated with happiness and self-esteem, this seventh novel seems to respond to a twofold imperative: on the one hand, to show us what a life without happiness or love—whichever you prefer—might be like, and, on the other, its corollary, to show us the way forward. For yes, let us believe it: happiness exists—«there exists, in the midst of time, the possibility of an island.».

Write to the author: [email protected]

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