Michel Houellebecq at his worst and at his best is an acerbic critic of consumer society—a shrewd and cynical observer of the absurdity of life under late-stage capitalism. The most effusive moments of disgust in his novels often occur in supermarkets and retail stores where his characters glimpse humanity’s warped sense of freedom, the smallness of their lives caught up the vast gyre of consumer choice, whether it be in the frozen food aisle or amid the multitudes of hummus flavors. In Houellebecq’s latest, Annihilation, a 544-page doorstop, the indignity of the grocery store again makes an appearance as a signifier of disappointment—this time in the form of prepackaged chicken tagine, assembled from multiple countries within the European Union, and a favorite food of his main character, Paul, an adviser to the French finance minister. In a wide-ranging essay examining Houellebecq’s career, Cole Stangler notes that what the latest novel offers is a “window into the ultraconservative worldview of its author.” Tracking how the anticapitalism found in Houellebecq’s earlier novels has evolved into the reactionary and retrograde politics of his later work, Stangler finds a larger story about France as well: a France that in the face of neoliberal policies and consumer soullessness has tacked further and further to right. Read “The Discontents of Michel Houellebecq”