While The Elementary Particles refers to Huxley’s anxiety-filled dystopia Brave New World, The Possibility of an Island makes reference to Huxley’s utopian novel Island, published in 1962. This reference is not restricted to the novel’s title, but also highlights one of the work’s major interpretational routes. Huxley’s Island is a social fantasy, a secluded island on which residents are part of a societal organization that fulfils individualistic-mystic ideas and reshapes the structure of family and ← 75 | 76 → procreation. Huxley offers a radical vision of breaking free from and vanquishing the collective political and social order to achieve personal happiness. Indeed, this is the link to the initial utopia purported in The Elementary Particles and accomplished in The Possibility of an Island. Huxley’s island is a metaphor for isolation and disconnection from the long arm of capitalist, patriarchal, and monotheistic culture. The island in Huxley’s Island is a topos in which utopia becomes a possibility, also symbolizing the heart’s desire to escape the oppression of regimes. Once again, the key to interpreting this work is society. And once more in Houellebecq’s work, human beings, this time in their advanced neohuman version, come to be troubled by societal deprivation, as Ben Jeffries has formulated lucidly: “Transparently, the energy core in the book is not genetic engineering, or post-humanity, or cults, or the state of Western civilization, but mortal frenzy.”4
The Possibility of an Island explores the disintegration of society as a political-civic configuration, along with the disappearance of the ethical sense of the social and community as a framework founded upon the partnership of its members. Dystopia is the book’s primary tradition: it depicts a grim culmination of our historical process, parallel to the reality and society familiar to us. It presents an unpleasant, imaginary, demonic, and monstrous world, in which the potential of our social and technological present is realized in a catastrophic future.
According to Jameson, the genre of science fiction possesses greater potential for transmitting reliable information about our contemporary world than realistic/modernistic genres. Indeed, the latter have exhausted themselves, especially in view of the fact that “in postmodernity, representation is not perceived as a dilemma, but rather as impossibility”.5 If, indeed, the postmodern dominant is ontological, as elucidates Brian McHale, then “science fiction, we might say, is to postmodernism what detective fiction was to modernism: it is the ontological genre par excellence […] and so serves as a source of materials and models for postmodernist writers […]”.6 Thus the futuristic novel, in foregrounding ← 76 | 77 → ontological issues through its multiple-universe narrative, destabilizes and de-automatizes these worlds to the point of tipping over into epistemological interrogations.
The narrative structure of The Possibility of an Island rests upon narrators separated by two millennia connected by means of a relay; the basic story is the life of Daniel1, a human being living around 2015. Reading his life story and adding their own comments are Daniel24 and later Daniel25 – the 24th and 25th clones of this distant prototype ancestor who lived in our generation; neohumans, a breed that arose after the near extinction of humanity. The society of clones, which has succeeded in its effort to overcome the human plights of suffering and death, demarcates one single mode of life, a static version of personal and interpersonal conduct, in which life is not experienced but read about and commented upon. Just as the clones are autotrophic biologically, feeding on air and water,7 so are they socially distanced from others, feeding on the life story and comments of their predecessors. Neohumans undergo no new experiences; they are literally and metaphorically disconnected, each residing in his own solitary compartment. In a sense, in The Possibility of an Island one is alone, completely alienated from all other beings; a materialization of the future depicted in The Elementary Particles. Society is but a façade; conceptually and literally it has disintegrated, along with selfhood and interpersonal relations as vital, active, and directly derived from it. The society of neohumans can create but an effet du réel, a radical version of those humans described by Daniel1 as living their entire life without really experiencing it: “Those people I’m afraid to say, could not constitute a subject. I did however include a few of them in my sketches to give diversity and the reality effect.” (Possibility, p. 15) [«Ceux-là ne pouvaient, j’ai le regret de le dire, pas constituer un sujet. J’en introduisais quelques-uns dans mes sketches pour donner de la diversité, de «l’effet du réel.»» (Possibilité, p. 22)]. ← 77 | 78 →
Two Quests
Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake, published two years before The Possibility of an Island, provides a useful point of comparison. Atwood’s 2003 novel deals with similar questions to The Possibility of an Island and,8 in more ways than one, mirrors and complements Houellebecq’s project. The narrative dynamics of both novels are based on the master plot of the quest.9 Indeed, in the case of Atwood, the quest is the basic format of the entire book. In Oryx and Crake, the Snowman is the last man in a world that has brought about its own destruction by means of (scientific) technology.10 The narrative present is the journey taken by this last survivor to a devastated living area in order to search for other people, or at least food and supplies (this future-present is punctuated intermittently by the story of the protagonist’s past in the form of flashbacks and memories, which drive the events of the present). In Houellebecq’s novel, by contrast, the quest makes its appearance only in the last part of the book: it is the point towards which the entire plot leads. Daniel25 sets out to find other neohumans, or human savages organized into a community outside his closed living compound. Read metaphorically, The Elementary Particles is also a quest, in which the entire plot is directed towards obtaining the prize: the eradication of human suffering. This is achieved by Michel’s constant search for – or rather into – the scientific solution to mankind’s misery. The depiction of Bruno is an incessant reminder of why the quest is necessary.
The quest is a timeless format that reflects one of the most basic elements of humanity,11 a profound sense of deficiency and dissatisfaction with ← 78 | 79 → existing reality. It involves an attempt to restore lost perfection, to attain redemption, healing and salvation. Life is not complete without a quest. The essence of this basic plot is that far away there lies a precious goal, one that is worthy of any effort that must be exerted to attain it – a treasure, a promised land, something of infinite value. The need to set out on a journey fraught with danger in order to attain this prize becomes the most important thing in the world. The story of a quest is constructed around the imperative that stands above all else – to reach a goal – and the story remains unfinished until the goal has been achieved and victory assured.
Atwood and Houellebecq respect every minute detail of the quest, from the first stage of the ‘call’, the reason for setting out on the journey. This usually begins with a sense of urgency – the hero is unable to remain at home in peace due to a pressing sense that something must be settled. Daniel25 sets out from his living compound in the wake of his desire to realize social emotion – to connect and merge with another being. The trigger of his desire and haste is the poem written by the prototype Daniel in a letter to his prototype ex-lover, Esther, which he wrote shortly before his suicide. Previously, this poem had also caused Marie23 to leave the neohuman colony:
It is this letter that has had a catastrophic effect on Marie23, and drove her to leave, to imagine that a social community – of humans and neohumans, basically she didn’t really know – had formed somewhere, and that she had discovered a new mode of relational organization; that the radical individual separation we now know could be abolished immediately, without waiting for the coming of the Future Ones. (Possibility, p. 299)
[«C’est cette lettre qui a eu sur Marie23 une influence catastrophique, qui l’a poussée à partir, à s’imaginer qu’une communauté sociale – d’humains ou de néo-humains, au fond elle ne savait pas très bien – s’était formée quelque part, et qu’elle avait déco
uvert un nouveau mode d’organisation relationnelle; que la séparation individuelle radicale que nous connaissons pouvait être abolie dès maintenant, sans attendre l’avènement des Futurs.» (Possibilité, p. 423)]
Daniel1’s memories reflect the genuine process of deterioration of human ties in his time, which led to the disappearance of society. However, Marie23, and later Daniel25, find content and meaning in Daniel1’s life and they seek to experience this themselves.12 As observers wishing to ← 79 | 80 → become participants, they exhibit a sense of empathy and solidarity with co-humans.
Although Daniel1’s poem overtly discusses love and interpersonal relationships, its interpretation can be applied to the broader spectrum of communal relationships. Houellebecq constantly connects between a social ideology and the fate of its particles, as he already elucidated in The Elementary Particles:
Was it possible to think of Bruno as an individual? The decay of his organs was particular to him, and he would suffer his decline and death as an individual. On the other hand, his hedonistic worldview and the forces that shaped his consciousness and desires were common to an entire generation. (p. 148)
[«Pouvait-on considérer Bruno comme un individu ? Le pourrissement de ses organes lui appartenait, c’est à titre individuel qu’il connaîtrait le déclin physique et la mort. D’un autre côté, sa vision hédoniste de la vie, les champs de forces qui structuraient sa conscience et ses désirs appartenaient à l’ensemble de sa génération.» (Particules, p. 178)]
As his reference to Brave New World also demonstrates, Houellebecq explores the disintegration of society as a political-civic configuration, along with the loss of the social in its ethical sense, the communal framework based upon partnership among its members and inter-personal ties.
Daniel1’s poem to Esther accentuates the bond between lovers and the infinite emotion that human bonding can create: the sensation of “complete dependency” (Possibility, p. 300) [«dépendance entière» (Possibilité, p. 424)] which occurs “when two bodies play at happiness / Unite, reborn without end.” (ibid.) [«Quand deux corps jouent de leur bonheur / Et sans fin s’unissent et renaissent» (ibid.)]. Daniel1’s longing for this feeling has a devastating effect, but for Marie23, and later Daniel25, it is a promise, a “possibility of an island” (ibid.) [«La possibilité d’une île» (ibid.)]. Thus in this case the island has yet another sense: it is a metaphor for a haven, far from the current reality rife with negation and dissatisfaction. The neohumans discover in this poem community, connection, and relation, in short: societal relationships. Their lifestyle is suddenly revealed as a tool not to preserve culture, carrying it beyond the changing times, but rather a means of preserving the demolition of culture over the course of time. Notwithstanding, the probability that this passion for the past is simply nostalgic is bluntly invoked within the diegesis, as in Daniel25’s remark: ← 80 | 81 →
I was convinced that neither Marie23, despite her departure, nor Marie22, despite the strange episode preceding her end, related by my predecessor, had known desire either. On the other hand what they had known, and in a singularly painful way, was nostalgia for desire, the wish to experience it again, to be irradiated like their distant ancestors with that force that seemed so powerful. (Possibility, p. 294)
[«J’étais persuadé que ni Marie23, malgré son départ, ni Marie22, malgré l’étrange épisode précédant sa fin, relaté par mon prédécesseur, n’avaient elles non plus connu le désir. Ce qu’elles avaient par contre connu, et cela de manière singulièrement douloureuse, c’était la nostalgie du désir, l’envie de l’éprouver à nouveau, d’être irradiées comme leurs lointaines ancêtres par cette force qui paraissait si puissante.» (Possibilité, p. 416)]
Nostalgia, like a myth, creates a fictitious and artificial past, concealing reality. Dwelling on an appealing version of the past can camouflage tensions. Yet among neohumans, accustomed to living via images detached from reality, powerful affections of nostalgia caused by the candid emotions found in the life-stories of their ancestors may veritably help dissidents to deal with contradictory actuality.
In Oryx and Crake, the Snowman sets out on a journey to the residential compound in search of some vestige of society, or at least food and supplies for his survival.13 In Atwood’s utopian future (which, much like that depicted in Houellebecq’s The Elementary Particles, is two or three generations after our present time – one of the teachers is in fact the survivor of a burst high-tech bubble) people live in protected compounds which contain consumer societies controlled by scientific technology, in particular genetic engineering. Society is not governed by the state, but rather controlled by international corporations, with each autonomous community protected by an army. The communities’ economic capacities differ and, as a result, hostilities between them break out regularly. This future society encourages the absolute commercialization of life, with gaps between rich and poor growing ever wider; all the elements that identify and constitute humanity have been materialized. This world is destroyed at the beginning of the story and, apart from the Snowman, only pseudo-humans survive: the Crakers, named after their bioengineer creator, Crake. Genetically engineered with the goal of freeing the human ← 81 | 82 → race from disease, aging, love, and abstract thought, the Crakers are the first step towards improving the human race.
In his quest, the hero sets out on an excruciating journey with an atmosphere of urgency and devotion, its goal more precious and desirable than any other in the world. One of the distinctive characteristics of the quest story, in opposition to other master plots, is that the hero does not set out on his adventures alone; the presence of companions is extremely significant. Yet it is no coincidence that both Atwood’s and Houellebecq’s heroes are alone in their quests; this reflects the themes of the absence of society, the lack of otherness and the fundamental rather than the circumstantial meaning of this loneliness. The protagonists are completely alone in the world of their quests: Atwood’s in his quest for survival, Houellebecq’s in the lonesome existence of neohumans.
The quest itself includes various obstacles of different kinds, but also opportunities to attain power and enlist friendly assistance. The obstacles facing the Snowman are lethal rivals, genetically engineered monsters.14 In the case of Daniel25, the earth itself, wild, ravaged, and foreign, serves as the main hindrance.15 Each of the heroes suffers from wounds on the soles of his feet, making walking difficult and further underscoring the burden on their tortured bodies, which are driven to find a way to heal the present:
I began, then, to understand what the life of men had been. The palms of my hands and the soles of my feet were covered with hundreds of little blisters; the itching was terrible, and I scratched myself furiously, for about ten minutes, until I was covered in blood. (Possibility, p. 306)
[«Je commençai, alors, à comprendre ce qu’avait été la vie des hommes. La paume de mes mains, la plante de mes pieds étaient couvertes de centaines de petites vésicules; la démangeaison était atroce et je me grattai furieusement, pendant une dizaine de minutes, jusqu’à en être couvert de sang.» (Possibilité, p. 431)] ← 82 | 83 →
The final stage of the quest is the attainment of the goal. Most quest stories end happily, with the goal achieved and order restored, the hero and his lover united or the kingdom established: an image of perfection signifying the completion of the quest. This ending contains a further, additional message – the renewal of life. The life under threat at the outset of the quest has now been restored and recovered in some profound way. This feeling of renewal focuses on a new, safe foundation that guarantees the future – the quest’s goal from the very outset. The metaphorical device of the quest demonstrates that in order to bring about change, one must depart from the normal boundaries of one’s surroundings. Nevertheless, even though both Houellebecq’s and Atwood’s quests culminate in a reversal of the salvation that a quest should offer, they are divergent in their arguments. Indeed, Atwood’s quest is never resolved; she le
aves the reader to speculate on the results of the encounter between the Snowman and the small group of human survivors (Oryx and Crake, pp. 430–433), subject to the reader’s judgment on the dissolution of society and the likelihood that something of this nature could actually occur. The Snowman, however, has emerged from the quest as a more responsible and conscientious human, thus asserting his sense of fellowship and human sodality.
The conclusion of Houellebecq’s The Possibility of an Island occurs in a wilderness, with the certain knowledge that the quest has failed and the hero has met his anticipated end. He encounters only savages, organized into a pre-civilizational structure, astoundingly similar to society at the stage of disintegration in the period of Daniel1 (as will be demonstrated shortly). The humanist tradition, which introduced the values constituting the building blocks of society and civilization, have dissolved.
Apocalyptic Imagination
The background to Daniel25’s quest is the landscape of a ravaged, empty and desolate world. The realistic causes of this wilderness are the nuclear winter and ecological and biological catastrophes created by human wars. However, this landscape is also ambivalent: an arid world is an apocalyptic ← 83 | 84 → image, an emblem of hell, an infernal netherworld.16 Likewise, in Oryx and Crake the Snowman wanders in an apocalyptic setting. Thus both authors suggest an apocalyptic context; while Atwood hints at a religious connection, with some of the final chapters, for instance, suggestively entitled “Idol” and “Sermon” (Oryx and Crake, pp. 415–426),17 Houellebecq more obviously designates his text as apocalyptic. Christian apocalyptic context is clearly alluded to in the segments of the text regarding the decline of monotheistic religions and the rise of the new Elohimite church, and the protagonists’ names reference the biblical Book of Daniel, which sets out the literary and conceptual infrastructure of the apocalypse and is considered its paradigmatic text.
An Officer of Civilization Page 12