His villa is filled with beautiful artifacts and heirlooms that he can't bear the thought of having sullied by the leprous hands of this lecherous people. He lives in his gorgeous ancestral villa, overlooking the shore where the armada is landing. (And be advised, it's not for the faint of heart.)Īmong the few dissenters willing to do what it takes to defend their race and civilization is a Mozart-listening French professor, the book's hero. But that evidently does nothing to dull their satyr-like sexual appetite since these are people who, in Raspail's telling, "never found sex to be a sin." So their journey becomes one long orgiastic ride as they hump everything in sight. The central plot line of the book involves an armada of "kinky-haired, swarthy-skinned, long-despised" Indians who, exhorted by a "turd eating" god-man to get a piece of the "white man's comfort," board a fleet of rickety ships to France, the land of "milk and honey," to escape poverty and illness. He sets up a denouement so cartoonish that even Mad Max writers would cringe. And The Camp of the Saint's main objective is to jawbone the West into confronting how liberalism, progressive humanism, and Christian meekness are destroying this sacred goal. Raspail, now a 90-year-old Catholic, has long been on an obsessive quest to defend the West's racial and cultural purity.
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