I don't know Houellebecq personally and I don't really want to but after such a statement I can't refrain from hating him. No. I exaggerate. It is more that I am nauseated. And that I feel extremely sorry for him.

It also bothers me that what he writes here seems as honest as e.g. Rousseau in his Confessions but at the same time he lives on creating scandals with exactly this kind of confessional writing. And he lives quite well according to the sales of his books.

Of course there is also the possibility that Houellebecq makes all this up. I don't believe that but I wouldn't like him more if this was the truth.

On the other hand there is something fascinating about Houellebecq. Something irresistible. I feel like a moth flying into the flame when I read his texts. This small essay on cloning reminds me of the dilemma of the scientists who developed the atomic bomb which was so well described by Dürrenmatt in Die Physiker and which can be condensed into two sentences:

and