#20: The Plague by Albert Camus

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100 books, book review, books, Camus, literature

After an unsatisfactory taste of existentialism with my nineteenth book of the year, I decided to give the movement’s literary arm a try.  Although he rejected the label, Albert Camus is generally considered to most significant existential author.  My exposure to Camus has so far been limited to The Stranger, which I read a part of my 100 Book Challenge in 2010.  I enjoyed that novel tremendously, and the memory of it inspired me to pick up The Plague at Half Price Books.  I finished reading it several days ago but have been a bit lazy about posting.

The Plague is a novel set in the Algerian port of Oran during the 1940’s and is narrated by an anonymous citizen of the city who wants to give an impartial picture of events.  On an otherwise ordinary April day, the rats in the city begin emerging from their hiding places and dying in the streets.  This rat epidemic is treated as a mere curiosity by the populace (apparently unaware that they were in a book entitled The Plague) and this warning sign is largely ignored.  When a strange fever begins to spread amongst the human population, the town again fails to recognize the danger.  Despite warnings of plague from a few of the city’s doctors, the administration is slow to react.  By the time the threat is recognized it is too late to stop the epidemic.  The town is placed in quarantine and the gates shut, effectively cutting off the population from the rest of the world.  The plague rages through December, leaving huge numbers of dead in its wake. 

That is the basic plot of The Plague.  This is definitely not a novel that revolves around plot alone.  Instead, this is a study of humanity under duress.  Camus creates a diverse cast of characters that respond to the ordeal in many different ways.  Each character has an authentic quality that lends realism to the entire work.  They seem like people the reader might actually know, rather than characters invented by an author.  They seem so real that the reader cannot help but emote with them as they struggle to retain some understanding of life and humanity in the face of utter despair.  Camus keeps the identity of the narrator a secret until the very end of the book, which creates some interesting questions of perspective.

I found The Plague extremely engrossing and highly enjoyable.  Despite a very morbid subject matter, the book is somehow hopeful and even occasionally humorous.  I can’t vouch for Camus’ existentialist credentials, but I can definitely say that he is a wonderful writer.

The Current Count

20 Read, 80 To Go

#19: A Short History of Existentialism by Jean Wahl

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100 books, book review, books, philosophy

The motivation behind my resolution to read 100 books was to keep myself mentally fit during the interlude between my undergraduate studies and graduate school.  For that reason, I try to select books that will challenge me and will broaden my intellectual horizons.  That inspired such choices as Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, seven books by Nietzsche, and Gibbon’s Decline and Fall.  Having conquered such giants of erudition, I thought a slender volume by French philosopher Jean Wahl entitled A Short History of Existentialism would be child’s play.  It seems my reach has exceeded my grasp.

Wahl’s book begins with an examination of Kierkegaard and his philosophy, which is generally seen as the beginning of existentialism.  Wahl then discusses the philosophies of Heidegger and Jaspers in relation to the foundation laid by Kierkegaard.  The author then examines Sartre’s philosophy and concludes with a brief critique of the movement.  Brief statements about Wahl’s essay from other notable intellectuals are also included.  All of this is delivered very matter-of-factly, as though it were exceedingly simple.  I did not like it.

My critique of Wahl’s essay is based on two complaints.  First, Wahl uses far too much existentialist jargon.  I understand that philosophers often use particular words in a very specific fashion.  The best philosophers explain the manner in which they use such terms.  Wahl is not offering his own philosophy.  Instead, he is summarizing the development of a philosophical movement (of which he is a part).  In doing so, he assumes a certain understanding of existentialist language on the part of the reader.  Having read only one work by Kierkegaard and none by Heidegger, Jaspers, or Sartre, I lacked that understanding.  Without a background in existentialist readings, the reader will lack the necessary context to fully understand Wahl’s essay.  My second complaint is that Wahl’s treatment of existentialism was extremely shallow.  Granted, this is a short history of the movement, but brevity does not have to mean superficiality.  Part of the reason the jargon was so confusing is that Wahl does not explore the concepts involved at a deep enough level to allow for real comprehension.  I am sure that a person well-versed in existentialist literature would find Wahl’s treatment pleasantly concise, but I found it to be a bit too sparse.

Ultimately, I would not recommend this book unless you are already equipped with a solid understanding of existentialism (which would render Wahl’s book unnecessary).  That is the paradox of Wahl’s essay.  It is too shallow and too specialised to be understood by the general reader, and too brief to be of any real value to the seasoned existentialist.  My advice would be to read the philosophers themselves.  I intend to do so.

The Current Count

19 Read, 81 To Go

#18: Pictor’s Metamorphoses by Hermann Hesse

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100 books, book review, books, Hesse, literature, Nobel Prize, short stories

For my eighteenth book of the year I decided to go with Pictor’s Metamorphoses and Other Fantasies by Hermann Hesse, marking my fourteenth book by the German-Swiss Nobel laureate.  Hesse is an author who never seems to disappoint, and Pictor’s Metamorphoses is no exception.  It is a collection of short stories from throughout Hesse’s life (including one from his childhood).  Although the subject matter is diverse, they are united by certain magical or fantastic characteristics.  Most of the stories are only a few pages long, and the longest are only a few dozen pages in length.  This makes for a quick and relaxing read that is highly enjoyable.

My favorite story in the collection was “Bird”.  This story is about a unique bird that lives in a Swiss town and becomes something of a symbol for the area.  Eventually he becomes a legend and attracts the attention of a curious noblemen from the North.  A bounty is placed on the bird’s head, and the townspeople struggle with their desire to earn the easy money and their respect and love for their mascot.  One citizen in particular has had a special bond with Bird over the years, and decides to capture him.  He readies a gun with the finest birdshot to be found and waits.  Eventually Bird appears to him and the man shoots.  Bird disappears, without leaving so much as a feather behind.  He is never seen again.  Hesse’s descriptions of the communal spirit and the relationship between tradition and modern issues are poignant and thought-provoking.  His ability to create an authentic and enchanting atmosphere is unrivalled.  I would recommend any book  by Hesse, including Pictor’s Metamorphoses.

The Current Count

18 Read, 82 To Go

#17: The Antichrist by Friedrich Nietzsche

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100 books, book review, books, Nietzsche, philosophy, religion

I once again find myself in the position of apologizing after being absent from the blogosphere for nearly a month.  I can’t claim Jeopardy as an excuse this time.  Instead, I will blame it on my unwavering commitment to devote the best of my energies towards educating the young minds of today into the future leaders of tomorrow.  I can actually see the sarcasm dripping from the computer screen as I read the previous sentence.  To be perfectly honest, I just needed a break.  I have been busy with teaching and taking students to debate tournaments, but that is true for most of the year.  For the past few weeks I deliberately took a step back from reading and did a bit of vegetating.  That came to an end over the past weekend, when I completed The Antichrist by Friedrich Nietzsche.

Nietzsche wasn’t overly concerned with making friends with his philosophical writings, and The Antichrist is a prime example of that alienating tendency.  It should be noted that the title has a dual meaning, with Antichrist in German meaning both Antichrist in the personified sense and Antichristian.  In this book, Nietzsche establishes himself as a sort of Antichrist by developing a directly Antichristian line of philosophical thought.  Nietzsche’s disdain for Christianity goes beyond the merely intellectual into the realm of personal antipathy.  His delight in tormenting the Christian world is palpable as you turn the pages.  He really, really does not like the Christian Church.  As someone who comes from a Christian background, I was hesitant to read a book that I knew would be so challenging to the belief system that has surrounded me since birth.

Nietzsche’s criticisms are based on the notion that the early Christian church distorted the teachings of Jesus in an effort to empower the weak and suppressed elements throughout the Roman Empire.  Nietzsche argues that Jesus never spoke of sin and punishment or of a denial of the material world.  Instead, he believes that Jesus was a psychological type known as the redeemer.  The redeemer displays an absolute intolerance for pain.  Resistance leads to pain, and the redeemer therefore avoids resistance at all costs.  This avoidance leads to a willing acceptance of the world as it is, including the powerlessness of the redeemer.  This inspires a feeling of peace and happiness that constitutes “the Kingdom of Heaven.”  Nietzsche thinks this redeemer is an imperfect type, but prefers it to the image of Christ developed by the church.

According to Nietzsche, it was the early church fathers (particularly St. Paul) who distorted this simple message in an effort to exert power from a position of weakness.  This is an extension of the philosophy or religion of resentment (of which Judaism is the prime example) that Nietzsche had previously discussed in On the Genealogy of Morals.  These early fathers used the idea of an afterlife (not mentioned by Jesus according to Nietzsche) to force adherents to follow a strict set of rules (also not mentioned by Jesus) that center around denying the urges and instincts of the body.  This denial of the body stems from weakness.  The early Christians lacked bodily strength and worldly power, so they established the possession of such power as proof of a sinful way of life.  Ultimately, this denial is the root of the nihilism that Nietzsche thought was omnipresent in the Europe of his day.  These arguments are all made with a great deal of vitriol.

It has been the tendency of many Christian writers since Nietzsche to dismiss him as a heretic or atheist and condemn his arguments altogether.  I think this is a logical fallacy.  To argue that because Nietzsche is wrong in his disbelief of God he must also be wrong about everything else is a hasty generalization.  A thinker of Nietzsche’s influence and intellectual ability deserves a reasonable consideration.  I don’t intend to take on the role of Nietzschean apologist, but I will admit that I like the man.  His writings are entertaining and thought-provoking, even if not always right.  In the case of The Antichrist, I agree with some of Nietzsche’s arguments but oppose his general condemnation.  His chief concern throughout most of his works is to combat the denial of the body and its natural senses and instincts.  This has always been one of my concerns with religion.  I have never understood why so many Christian theologians throughout history have been so diametrically opposed to the body.  The idea that we were all hopelessly corrupted by original sin has always troubled me.  I cannot believe that an omnipotent and omnibenevolent creator would condemn his entire creation to a lifetime of depravity based on the mistakes of the original man.  I do not, however, think that condemns Christianity as a whole.  I think it is possible to embrace the Christian ideals of love and kindness without denying that there is a natural value and worth in our physical world and our natural urges.  These urges can become corrupt and overpowering, but should not be condemned outright.  Happily, I think there has been a tendency in some circles of Christian thought to place less emphasis on sin and condemnation and focus instead on living out the generous ideals that constitute the real foundation of the faith.  This is a very abbreviated discussion of the issues raised by Nietzsche and my responses to them, but I think this post has gone on long enough. 

The Current Count:

17 Read, 83 To Go