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Type of bind: Paperback
Dewey Decimal Number: 844.914
EAN num: 9780679733737
ISBN number: 0679733736
Label: Vintage
Manufacturer: Vintage
Quantity: 1
Page Count: 224
Printing Date: May 07, 1991
Publishing house: Vintage
Release Date: May 07, 1991
Sale Popularity Level: 5318
Studio: Vintage
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Rated by buyers 
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I do not have any special quarrel with Camus' thesis, which is neither very complex nor very controversial. I am going to summarize it in plain English. Doing so, showing that it can be done, will bear out my criticism of Camus' writing.
Man thirsts for a holistic meaning from life that life cannot give him. It is this simple fact that constitutes the absurd, in the face of which Camus asks (with all the subtlety of a battering ram): Shall we all therefore commit suicide? His answer is, in short, no. The act of suicide symbolizes the triumph of both life and death over the individual, cutting the Gordian knot of the absurd without unravelling it. What then is man to do? According to Camus, he must do two things. Firstly, he must remain aware of the fact that life is absurd; that is, he must not be tempted to escape into oblivion. That much is clear. Camus' second imperative is both more obscure and more interesting, but what it amounts to is this: man must try to find a defiant enjoyment in, or in spite of, his absurd existence. If he can do this--if Sisyphus can admit that he is not unhappy, and smirk to himself as he descends for the millionth or billionth time after his ridiculous bolder, that ineradicable smirk is sufficient to undermine the gods that are punishing him and the universe in which that punishment is his fate. This is our only hope of defeating or at least of negotiating the absurd.
The problem with this book is not in the matter but in the mode, for Camus presents this not-particularly-complex thesis in the most obfuscatory philosophical cant that has ever been inflicted on the reading public.
I will focus by way of illustration on a single aspect of his writing style (or lack thereof), though I warn you that it is abundantly bad in almost every aspect.
Camus likes to introduce everyday words and phrases which, as his usage makes clear, are being given idiosyncratic meanings known only to Camus. He does not pause to clarify for the innocent reader what he means. Nor does he pause to substantiate the vaguest of presuppositions he uses these terms to postulate. Instead, he goes on, breathlessly, to combine them in new sentences from which additional, even more idiosyncratic ideas and presuppositions are extrapolated, and in which still more words are introduced from his maddening idiolect--and so on, in a kind of second- and third- and fourth-order multiplication of ambiguities. A single example will suffice (which, by the way, heads up a new section and is in no way foregrounded by his preceding paragraphs):
"Deep feelings always mean more than they are conscious of saying. The regularity of an impulse or a repulsion in a soul is encountered again in habits of doing or thinking, is reproduced in consequences of which the soul itself knows nothing. Great feelings take with them their own universe, splendid or abject. They light up with their passion an exclusive world in which they recognize their climate."
And again, with a question mark in square brackets to indicate where, I believe, Camus sorely owes his readers an explanation:
"Deep feelings [?] always mean [?] more than they are conscious [?] of saying [?]. The regularity of an impulse or a repulsion in a soul [?] is encountered again in habits of doing or thinking, is reproduced in consequences [?] of which the soul [?] itself knows nothing [?]. Great feelings [?] take with them [?] their own universe [?], splendid [?] or abject [?]. They light up [?] with their passion [?] an exclusive [?] world [?] in which they recognize [?] their climate [?!]. ... "
This pointless and pretentious fudging of sentences is done, it must be assumed, in order to make Camus' thesis appear more complex, more esoteric than it really is. The motive for his crime against the word is literary vanity. Or perhaps the game with which Camus finds defiant enjoyment in the absurdity of existence consists of avenging himself on his readers with his atrocious writing. Whatever the answer, the result is shabby, muddy, and bordering on complete gobbledegook. (I have read difficult books of philosophy before, from Baudrillard to Derrida, "in the unoriginal" and doubt very much that the blame can be laid squarely on James Wood, Camus' translator).
To conclude: His thesis, as I say, has some merit. But for that, why not consult Wikipedia. Hell, edit the page yourself. You'd be hard pressed to do a worse job at clarifying Camus than Camus has done in this complete abortion of a text.
Rated by buyers 
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Not everyone is inclined to navel lintgazing. Nor is everyone up for the level of effort necessary to gain any type of understanding of Camus' writings either. That doesn't mean the effort should not be made though! I avoided Camus for years, until a reference at work (hostage negotiation) made me realize that Camus' work was an essential element for my toolbox - namely being able to agree with folks about the absurdity of life, have a story to tell (Sysyphus) and a general explanation how one of the "great philosophers" worked through it. At times like that, you would be amazed at what kind of attention folks pay!
I read the work at least five times through, and I can say that each time I read it, I bring a bit more away. His writing is very rich and dense. No sentence can be passed over - and that sucks if your a lazy reader!!! But... at the end of the effort, the results are worth it. You have another take on the whole "Is life, is the effort worth it?" I'll leave that for you to decide, but I do heartily recommend this book!
Interesting side thought - compare the worldly Camus with the rugged individualists across the pond (Emerson, Thoreau, and all the Transcendentalists) with their eternal optimism. Comments welcome! :)
All the best,
Jay
Rated by buyers -
This popped up on my screen to be reviewed, so what the hell. I read this book many years ago, and I liked it. It is if I remember a collection of philosophical/ethical essays. I preferred his collection of descriptions. I know the story of Sisyphus, and I remember that Camus compared that to the human condition. That's certainly how it feels when it gets near payday. I preferred Sartre. I thought he was more interesting and humane and complex. I never understood Nausea (though I loved the chapter in the portrait gallery), never understood his point though of course the story as a story made sense. It's one of my favorite books. My favorite book for many years, however, was The Stranger. I think it's a gem. (Nausea, Sartre; Stranger, Camus.) For me the overall problem with Camus is his obsession with violence. I don't like it and now that I'm older I won't read it. His very first book (A Happy Death, the main character of which has the same name as the central character in The Stranger, Mersault, why?) is a nightmare. Camus said that the most important thing in life is justice. In my pre-Bush years, that always struck me as a strange, almost superfluous credo. I don't recommend this book to anyone but philosophy majors (I'm not one), but (if you can stand things like Caligula), Camus is an interesting writer (not as much as Sartre I don't think), and I recommend over Sisyphus his collection of descriptions.
Rated by buyers -
I don't think Camus could have written a bad book if he had tried. In this case, I think it's accurate to say that this is the sort of book that makes you think and enjoy thinking.
Rated by buyers -
i have read this book in hebrew
it is absolutely great
i recommend it to everyone who wants to "think outside of the box" and had wondered about the meaning of life...
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