In Public Enemies, his exchange of letters with philosopher Bernard Henri-Lévy, Houellebecq describes himself as “Nihilist, reactionary, cynic, racist, shameless misogynist… an unremarkable author with no style.” (Guardian)

You have to admire his ability to see himself with such crystal clarity. Submission, Houellebecq’s novel published in 2015, in which he presents an alternative future in France, one where the country submits to the laws of Sharia – is a direct product of such person. Main hero named Francois is a 44-year old professor of linguistics at Sorbonne Paris III and cares about nothing but food and sex. He is mildly depressed and anxious about the political situation in the country, which does not take long to manifest into a xenophobic nightmare: the fictional party of Muslim Brothers led by a charismatic leader Mohammed Ben Abbes wins the 2022 elections and the country changes overnight: women reduce their occupations to kitchen work, all opportunistically inclined men convert, polygamy takes over reason.

Francois is a well-known expert of the works of Joris-Karl Huysmans and the new Islamic University of Sorbonne wants him to join the ranks of newly converted professors. In fact, Francois is not a bit obsessed with Huysmans, reading and re-reading his works studiously, writing an 800-page dissertation about him, travelling to places he’s been to and – very importantly – pondering Huysmans’ adult decision to embrace Christianity and live in a monastery. Francois is trying very hard to follow in the footsteps of his idol – he even goes to the same monastery and plays with the idea of spiritual solitude, but just can’t feel it man. He decides then that what Huysmans really wanted in life (without consciously realising it) is middle-class familial comfort, which he was unfortunate to have only for a brief period of time, but Francois can obtain easily and indefinitely by becoming muslim (and getting three wives, no less).

The charismatic new head of university, Rediger, invites him over for tea – with the aim of showing what that life would look like in practice, serving unlimited alcohol (it’s moderate islam we’re talking about, see?), showing off his 15-year old and 40-year old wives (one for the bed and one for the kitchen, respectively), and man it looks good. Francois submits with no hesitation (what is there for him to lose but crushing loneliness?) The veil falls.

Apart from some musings on islam presented by Rediger (which either required a great amount of tolerance from the author, who publicly declares that he despises the religion – or are the amalgamation of the arguments in reply), the book is dragging. It is a first person narrative, and that first person is depressing and hard to like – and why should you? He isn’t even mildly interesting, and what happens is not convincing. All in all, it is a populistic horror, banking on people’s fear – of migrants, religious extremism and unstable future. Banking quite successfully, I should say – it became a bestseller almost instantly.

I don’t think it benefits the readers though – skimming public anxiety, blowing it out of proportion and effectively just adding fuel to fire. After the book came out, Charlie Hebdo, a satirical French weekly magazine, published an issue with Houellebecq on its cover, and paid with the lives of twelve employees shot in a terrorist attack on the premises. Is this nothing to regret, as the main hero concludes the novel? I guess that depends on whether you see it as a testament of free speech or a middle-aged-dissapointed-white-sexist’s wistful fantasy about the old good times of his world domination.