INTERVIEWER
What did you most want to accomplish with the novel?
HOUELLEBECQ
What I really wanted was to have scenes that were, as you say in English, “heartbreaking.” 
INTERVIEWER
Heartbreaking?
HOUELLEBECQ
The death of Michel’s girlfriend was very moving, I think. I really wanted to get those kinds of scene right above all.
INTERVIEWER
And why did you want to get those scenes right in particular?
HOUELLEBECQ
Because that’s what I like best in literature. For example, the last pages of The Brothers Karamazov: not only can I not read them without crying, I can’t even think of them without crying. That’s what I admire most in literature, its ability to make you weep. There are two compliments I really appreciate. “It made me weep,” and “I read it in one night. I couldn’t stop.”

INTERVIEWER
What is your writing schedule now?
HOUELLEBECQ
I wake up during the night around one a.m. I write half-awake in a semi-conscious state. Progressively, as I drink coffee, I become more conscious. And I write until I’m sick of it.
INTERVIEWER
Do you have other requirements for writing?
HOUELLEBECQ
Flaubert said you had to have a permanent erection. I haven’t found that to be the case. I need to take a walk now and then. Otherwise, in terms of dietary requirements, coffee works, it’s true. It takes you through all the different stages of consciousness. You start out semicomatose. You write. You drink more coffee and your lucidity increases, and it’s in that in-between period, which can last for hours, that something interesting happens. 
INTERVIEWER
Do you plot the novels?
HOUELLEBECQ
No. 

source: http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/6040/the-art-of-fiction-no-206-michel-houellebecq

INTERVIEWER

What did you most want to accomplish with the novel?

HOUELLEBECQ

What I really wanted was to have scenes that were, as you say in English, “heartbreaking.” 

INTERVIEWER

Heartbreaking?

HOUELLEBECQ

The death of Michel’s girlfriend was very moving, I think. I really wanted to get those kinds of scene right above all.

INTERVIEWER

And why did you want to get those scenes right in particular?

HOUELLEBECQ

Because that’s what I like best in literature. For example, the last pages of The Brothers Karamazov: not only can I not read them without crying, I can’t even think of them without crying. That’s what I admire most in literature, its ability to make you weep. There are two compliments I really appreciate. “It made me weep,” and “I read it in one night. I couldn’t stop.”

INTERVIEWER

What is your writing schedule now?

HOUELLEBECQ

I wake up during the night around one a.m. I write half-awake in a semi-conscious state. Progressively, as I drink coffee, I become more conscious. And I write until I’m sick of it.

INTERVIEWER

Do you have other requirements for writing?

HOUELLEBECQ

Flaubert said you had to have a permanent erection. I haven’t found that to be the case. I need to take a walk now and then. Otherwise, in terms of dietary requirements, coffee works, it’s true. It takes you through all the different stages of consciousness. You start out semicomatose. You write. You drink more coffee and your lucidity increases, and it’s in that in-between period, which can last for hours, that something interesting happens. 

INTERVIEWER

Do you plot the novels?

HOUELLEBECQ

No. 

source: http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/6040/the-art-of-fiction-no-206-michel-houellebecq

From the moment we arrived at the entrance of the residence, I noticed that Fox was quivering with joyful impatience; he had put on even more weight. Corgis are a race with a tendency toward plumpness, but he ran up to Isabelle’s door, then, breathless, stopped to wait for me as I walked, much more slowly, up the alley of chestnut trees stripped bare by winter. He let out small impatient yaps as I looked for the keys; poor little fellow, I said to myself, poor little fellow. As soon as I opened the door he rushed inside the apartment, quickly made a tour of it, came back, and sent me an inquisitive look.
Michel Houellebecq
The Possibility of an Island
p.262
photo source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/sep/10/digested-classic-atomised-michel-houellebecq

From the moment we arrived at the entrance of the residence, I noticed that Fox was quivering with joyful impatience; he had put on even more weight. Corgis are a race with a tendency toward plumpness, but he ran up to Isabelle’s door, then, breathless, stopped to wait for me as I walked, much more slowly, up the alley of chestnut trees stripped bare by winter. He let out small impatient yaps as I looked for the keys; poor little fellow, I said to myself, poor little fellow. As soon as I opened the door he rushed inside the apartment, quickly made a tour of it, came back, and sent me an inquisitive look.

Michel Houellebecq

The Possibility of an Island

p.262

photo source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/sep/10/digested-classic-atomised-michel-houellebecq

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
James Joyce
Ulysses

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:

James Joyce

Ulysses

Collette (Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette)
“To my cost, I have proved from long experience that the past is a far more violent temptation to me than the craving to know the future. Breaking with the present, retracing my steps, the sudden apparition of a new, unpublished slice of the past is accompanied by a shock utterly unlike anything else and which I cannot lucidly describe. Marcel Proust, gasping with asthma amid the bluish haze of fumigations and the shower of pages dropping from him one by one, pursued a bygone and completed time. It is neither the true concern nor the natural inclination of writers to love the future. They have quiet enough to do with being incessantly forced to invent their characters’ future, which, in any case, they draw up from the well of their own past. Mine, when ever I plunge into it, turns me dizzy. And when it is the turn of the past to emerge unexpectedly, to raise it dripping mermaid’s head into the light of the present and look at me with delusive eyes long hidden in the depths, I clutch at it all the more fiercely. Besides the person I once was, it reveals to me the one I would have like to be. What is the use of employing occult means and occult individuals in order to know that person better? Fortune tellers and astrologers, readers of the tarot cards palmists are not interested in my past. Among the figures, the swords, the cups and the coffee grounds, my past is written in three sentences. The seeress briskly sweeps away bygone “ups and downs” and a few vague “successes” that have had no marked results, then hurriedly plans on the whole the plaster rose of a today shorn of mystery and a tomorrow of which I expect nothing.
The Rainy Moon : The Collected Stories of Collette p. 351
photo source: http://goparis.about.com/od/historyculture/ss/Great-Parisian-Women-Of-The-20th-Century_3.htm

Collette (Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette)

“To my cost, I have proved from long experience that the past is a far more violent temptation to me than the craving to know the future. Breaking with the present, retracing my steps, the sudden apparition of a new, unpublished slice of the past is accompanied by a shock utterly unlike anything else and which I cannot lucidly describe. Marcel Proust, gasping with asthma amid the bluish haze of fumigations and the shower of pages dropping from him one by one, pursued a bygone and completed time. It is neither the true concern nor the natural inclination of writers to love the future. They have quiet enough to do with being incessantly forced to invent their characters’ future, which, in any case, they draw up from the well of their own past. Mine, when ever I plunge into it, turns me dizzy. And when it is the turn of the past to emerge unexpectedly, to raise it dripping mermaid’s head into the light of the present and look at me with delusive eyes long hidden in the depths, I clutch at it all the more fiercely. Besides the person I once was, it reveals to me the one I would have like to be. What is the use of employing occult means and occult individuals in order to know that person better? Fortune tellers and astrologers, readers of the tarot cards palmists are not interested in my past. Among the figures, the swords, the cups and the coffee grounds, my past is written in three sentences. The seeress briskly sweeps away bygone “ups and downs” and a few vague “successes” that have had no marked results, then hurriedly plans on the whole the plaster rose of a today shorn of mystery and a tomorrow of which I expect nothing.

The Rainy Moon : The Collected Stories of Collette p. 351

photo source: http://goparis.about.com/od/historyculture/ss/Great-Parisian-Women-Of-The-20th-Century_3.htm

“The life I lead in this place, I’ve said it often, but I don’t say it enough, and I have nothing else to say, the life I lead is difficult, cut shorter by being bored to death, and by endless fatigue. But I don’t care!”
letterArthur RimbaudNovember 10, 1988 

“The life I lead in this place, I’ve said it often, but I don’t say it enough, and I have nothing else to say, the life I lead is difficult, cut shorter by being bored to death, and by endless fatigue. But I don’t care!”

letter
Arthur Rimbaud
November 10, 1988 

Georges Perec (1936-1982) - Have been reading the biography of George Perec “A Life in Words” , it has been a while since I read “Life, A User’s Manual” and think maybe I should read it again. Interesting read about his writing and the process of how he wrote the book here:
http://www.wemadethis.co.uk/blog/2011/09/paul-finn-on-george-perec/
Photo source: http://hilobrow.com/2010/03/07/hilo-hero-georges-perec/

Georges Perec (1936-1982) - Have been reading the biography of George Perec “A Life in Words” , it has been a while since I read “Life, A User’s Manual” and think maybe I should read it again. Interesting read about his writing and the process of how he wrote the book here:

http://www.wemadethis.co.uk/blog/2011/09/paul-finn-on-george-perec/

Photo source: http://hilobrow.com/2010/03/07/hilo-hero-georges-perec/

”..Still, I was a really bad poet.I didn’t know how to take it all the way.I was hungryAnd all those days, and all those women in all those cafés and all those glassesI wanted to drink them down and break themAnd all those windows and all those streetsAnd all those houses and all those livesAnd all those carriage wheels raising swirls from the broken pavementI would have liked to have rammed them into a roaring furnaceAnd I would have like to have ground up all their bonesAnd ripped out all those tongues..” 
Blaise CendrarsThe Prose of the Trans-Siberian and of Little Jeanne of France 
photo source 50wats.com

”..Still, I was a really bad poet.
I didn’t know how to take it all the way.
I was hungry
And all those days, and all those women in all those cafés and all those glasses
I wanted to drink them down and break them
And all those windows and all those streets
And all those houses and all those lives
And all those carriage wheels raising swirls from the broken pavement
I would have liked to have rammed them into a roaring furnace
And I would have like to have ground up all their bones
And ripped out all those tongues..” 

Blaise Cendrars
The Prose of the Trans-Siberian and of Little Jeanne of France 

photo source 50wats.com

“Be that as it may, he was no longer of this world. He thought he was on the planet Mars.  And when I came to see him, regularly, every Thursday, he would clutch my arm, demanding loudly to go back to earth, groping high above his head with both hands for soil and trees and domestic animals.He never mentioned his fellow men.I’m not completely sure that he recognized me.”
Blaise CendrarsMoravagine page 228photo source 50watts.com

“Be that as it may, he was no longer of this world. He thought he was on the planet Mars.  And when I came to see him, regularly, every Thursday, he would clutch my arm, demanding loudly to go back to earth, groping high above his head with both hands for soil and trees and domestic animals.
He never mentioned his fellow men.
I’m not completely sure that he recognized me.”

Blaise Cendrars
Moravagine page 228
photo source 50watts.com

“Perhaps the closest description I can give of him at the outset of our acquaintance is that of a Stoic dragging his tomb about with him. Yet he was a man of many sides, as I gradually came to discover.”
Henry Miller
Big Sur and The Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch p.276

“Perhaps the closest description I can give of him at the outset of our acquaintance is that of a Stoic dragging his tomb about with him. Yet he was a man of many sides, as I gradually came to discover.”

Henry Miller

Big Sur and The Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch p.276

marcel took a nap

marcel took a nap