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savaging's review against another edition
3.0
The last words in the manuscript found in the wreckage of the crash that killed Camus at 46:
"an unalloyed passion for life confronting utter death; today he felt life, youth, people slipping away from him, without being able to hold on to any of them, left with the blind hope that this obscure force that for so many years had raised him above the daily routine, nourished him unstintingly, and been equal to the most difficult circumstances -- that, as it had with endless generosity given him reason to live, it would also give him reason to grow old and die without rebellion."
When this incomplete work was finally published in 1995, Camus' daughter wrote "it seems to me that one can most clearly hear my father's voice in this text because of its very rawness."
But Camus was a writer who believed in the hard labor and time of writing (from an interview: "creation is an intellectual and bodily discipline, a school of energy. I have never achieved anything in anarchy or physical slackness"). He saw himself as a new classicist in defiance of his time, where writers were all eager to serve up a slice of life on the run: "A minimum of preparation, a few strips of bacon, two or three flowers of fluted paper, and the meat is served raw" (On Jules Roy’s La Vallee Heureuse).
This is all to say that I felt a lot of tenderness toward this book, but I also found it dull. I missed the more polished (or cooked) Camus. If nothing else, I missed his sentences -- nobody else can write sentences like that.
"an unalloyed passion for life confronting utter death; today he felt life, youth, people slipping away from him, without being able to hold on to any of them, left with the blind hope that this obscure force that for so many years had raised him above the daily routine, nourished him unstintingly, and been equal to the most difficult circumstances -- that, as it had with endless generosity given him reason to live, it would also give him reason to grow old and die without rebellion."
When this incomplete work was finally published in 1995, Camus' daughter wrote "it seems to me that one can most clearly hear my father's voice in this text because of its very rawness."
But Camus was a writer who believed in the hard labor and time of writing (from an interview: "creation is an intellectual and bodily discipline, a school of energy. I have never achieved anything in anarchy or physical slackness"). He saw himself as a new classicist in defiance of his time, where writers were all eager to serve up a slice of life on the run: "A minimum of preparation, a few strips of bacon, two or three flowers of fluted paper, and the meat is served raw" (On Jules Roy’s La Vallee Heureuse).
This is all to say that I felt a lot of tenderness toward this book, but I also found it dull. I missed the more polished (or cooked) Camus. If nothing else, I missed his sentences -- nobody else can write sentences like that.
willowthebitchette's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
brooklynwirt's review against another edition
4.75
Unfinished and yet so rawly emotional and evocative. Albert Camus is my hero and his death was and will always be an international tragedy
aquint's review against another edition
2.0
Some lovely thoughts on the pages but the overall story did not hold my attention.
jameonbooks's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
Oh, how wonderful it would be if Camus had had the chance to finish this book. Above all, it is a book about humanity and how people have the ability to replace tragedy with kindness.
“in the strange dizziness of that moment, the statue every man eventually erects and that hardens in the fire of the years, into which he then creeps and there awaits its final crumbling – that statue was rapidly cracking, it was already collapsing. All that was left was this anguished heart, eager to live, rebelling against the deadly order of the world that had been with him for forty years, and still struggling against the wall that separated him from the secret of all life, wanting to go farther, to go beyond, and to discover, discover before dying, discover at last in order to be, just once to be, for a single second, but for ever”
siennasan's review against another edition
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
r_musil's review against another edition
5.0
بدترین چیز درباره نظر دادن این است که این نوشته‌ها اینجا می ماند و همانطور که شما الان با خودتان می گویید طرف عجب احمقی است، بیست سال دیگر، ده سال دیگر، ماه دیگر، یک هفته دیگر، خودم هم دوباره این مشعشعات را خواهم دید و خواهم گفت طرف انصافا عجب الاغی است. به هر حال باید نظرم را بگویم، و گرنه هیچ چیزی جلو نمی رود و چیزها اینجا، این پشت من، می ماند.
من دو نظریه دارم، اولی درباره نویسنده هاست، اینکه نویسنده باید درباره چیزی بنویسد که آن را زندگی کرده، سیزیف و این مزخرفات، سنگ بالای کوه می برم پس هستم دری بری است. هر وقت دیدید یک جایی یک میز شامی دارد توصیف می شود که غذاهای رویش همه اشرافی ست، یا یک نفر که همه چیز برایش آب خوردن است، یارو رو راست دارد بهتان می گوید که من اینکاره نیستم، لااقل اینجا را خیلی خراب کرده ام.
نظریه دومم هم درباره خواننده هاست، آدم از چیزی خوشش می آید که بتواند خودش را جایش را بگذارد، به خاطر همین هم بچه ها تا چهارده پانزده سالگی همه اسپایدرمنند، و از آنجا به بعد تا دیسکشان بگیرد بتمن.
آدم اول به نظرم باید خیلی به زندگی کامو نزدیک باشد، خیلی بیشتر از آن کتاب تقلبی اش بیگانه و آن کتاب افتضاح و سراسر دروغش سیزیف. به خاطر همین خیلی خوشم آمد. دست کم آنقدری که نوشته. بقیه ش را طرحش را برای ما به جا گذاشته و خودش به رحمت خدا رفته.
بخش دوم هم چرا من خوشم آمده، لابد چون آن بخش هایی که انقلاب می شود نوشته نشده و در سال های انفعال کودکی و نوجوانی، بین من و کامو قرابت است.
من دو نظریه دارم، اولی درباره نویسنده هاست، اینکه نویسنده باید درباره چیزی بنویسد که آن را زندگی کرده، سیزیف و این مزخرفات، سنگ بالای کوه می برم پس هستم دری بری است. هر وقت دیدید یک جایی یک میز شامی دارد توصیف می شود که غذاهای رویش همه اشرافی ست، یا یک نفر که همه چیز برایش آب خوردن است، یارو رو راست دارد بهتان می گوید که من اینکاره نیستم، لااقل اینجا را خیلی خراب کرده ام.
نظریه دومم هم درباره خواننده هاست، آدم از چیزی خوشش می آید که بتواند خودش را جایش را بگذارد، به خاطر همین هم بچه ها تا چهارده پانزده سالگی همه اسپایدرمنند، و از آنجا به بعد تا دیسکشان بگیرد بتمن.
آدم اول به نظرم باید خیلی به زندگی کامو نزدیک باشد، خیلی بیشتر از آن کتاب تقلبی اش بیگانه و آن کتاب افتضاح و سراسر دروغش سیزیف. به خاطر همین خیلی خوشم آمد. دست کم آنقدری که نوشته. بقیه ش را طرحش را برای ما به جا گذاشته و خودش به رحمت خدا رفته.
بخش دوم هم چرا من خوشم آمده، لابد چون آن بخش هایی که انقلاب می شود نوشته نشده و در سال های انفعال کودکی و نوجوانی، بین من و کامو قرابت است.