Eileen brought the teen graphic novel, Anya’s Ghost, by Vera Brosgol home for overnight last night. I got up this morning and read it before she went to work so she could return it today. I went to the author’s website. I think she’s more interesting than the book, but the book is not bad. I don’t think it’s a “masterpiece.” But that’s just me.

It’s going to get hot in Holland today. I already have the downstairs AC going and it’s pleasant here at the computer.

Michel Houellebecq has a new book out in English. I have decided he’s like a contemporary Celine.

And like Celine I think the idea of his work is better than actually reading it.

I didn’t think I would want to read another book by him after I finished reading The Elementary Particles.

It was a very uneven work. Parts of it were brilliant and fascinated me. Parts of it were dull and boringly obsessed with sex. I like sex, of course. But not boring nihilistic.

Then I read this review. I also read the beginning of the book online which describes the main character, Jed Martin, painting a portrait of the real living painters: Jeff Koon and Damien Hirst.  The review suggests that Houellebecq has abandoned his obsession with nihilistic sex in this novel and is addressing artistic dilemmas that his work and the contemporary situation of meaninglessness create.

I put myself on a waiting list at the library for it.