Feels rather bloated and dry at points (especially, as par for the course, the parts regarding French/international politics, they're corny jeremiads), but it ends in such a moving fashion that it reminds me of why I love Houellebecq's novels. He's an optimist masquerading as a pessimist, from the very beginning.

I think an interesting contrast to draw with this book is with Whatever, his first novel. I'm not sure if Houellebecq intended it or not (which is a telltale sign that he did), but the way Paul's story rolls out is an interesting riposte to the despaired narrator of Whatever's accusation of modern man being merely a "diminished adolescent."