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I had the sneaking suspicion while reading this book that Suskind was swilling giant glasses of beer, smoking a pipe and laughing to himself as he wrote. The narrative reeks of self-pleasure and this is one of the qualities I relished about it. There are a number of moments where I laughed out loud (including the end where I re-read the last paragraph multiple times). Rarely have I enjoyed a read as much as I enjoyed this one. It was like calling in sick and staying home laying on the couch, eating junk food and watching the History Channel all day.
In some deep receding place of perversity I think we identify with Grenouille. He innocently pursues his vices the way a kid might compulsively grab thier own genitals. His existential consideration of his own plight, coupled with his drive to be left alone is somewhat akin to an animal....yet this is a cunning, clever little pervert of an animal. In considering Grenouille's character arc, I'm tempted to draw allusions to King Lear, but the truth is that Grenouille wouldn't care for such things so I won't bother.
I'll leave you with a vision of his little hunchbacked form walking briskly across the countryside, stopping occasionally to sniff the air..dreaming sweet dreams of that one perfect scent!