Binding: Softcover
Publisher: Appleton-Century-Crofts
Date Published: 1955
Description: Fair. Copyright @ 1955. soft cover, writing on inside cover and first end page, marks and underlining, cover very worn, tight binding, clean and clear text. (CAW) read more
Binding: Trade paperback
Publisher: Gallimard Education
Date Published: 1942
Description: Very good. No dust jacket as issued. Clean pages, no marks or tears, minor shelf wear, tight binding, solid. Text in French. Trade paperback (US). Glued binding. 185 p. Audience: General/trade. read more
Binding: Paperback
Publisher: Appleton-Century-Crofts
Date Published: 1955
Description: Good. Light edge and corner wear. Top corner of front cover has a small section missing. P/O name is on FFEP. Careful packaging and fast shipping. We recommend PRIORITY MAIL for even faster delivery! read more
Edition: Edition Unstated
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
Publisher: Folio Gallimard
Date Published: 1978
Description: Good. As issued No Jacket. Camus classic in original French. Book is heavily shopworn, and text is underlined with margin notes. read more
Description: Very good. Little bitty tear at top of front cover. Clean paperback. No marks. clean pages, well bound. Complete and well intact. read more
Edition: No Edition Stated
Binding: Softcover
Publisher: Appleton-Century-Crofts, New York
Date Published: 1955
Description: Fair. 12mo-over 6¾"-7¾" tall. Considerable underlining and margin notes to text. Small tears and chips to edges of browned wraps. More of a reading copy. read more
Binding: Softcover
Publisher: Pantheon Books, Not Given
Date Published: 1942
Description: Poor. 8vo. Cover is bumped, pulled loose from pages, soiled and browning. Heavy notations and underscoring throughout. Gutter showing in some places. Signed by previous owner. read more
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
Publisher: Gallimard Education
Date Published: 1990-10
ISBN-13:9782070360024ISBN:2070360024
Description: Very Good. Cover different than shown; Mild shelf and corner war; Tanning to page edges; Mild rubbing and slight wear to covers and spine; ** Free USPS tracking and confirm on US orders ** read more
Binding: Trade paperback
Publisher: Appleton-Century-Crofts, New York
Date Published: 1955
Description: Good. No dust jacket. 183 p.; 20 cm. Does have a name stamped front and back. There is some wear, soiling, fading, bend-crease outside. No marks that I noticed. Sounds rough; but it's still a nice copy for study. read more
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
Publisher: Gallimard
Date Published: 1991
ISBN-13:9782070360024ISBN:2070360024
Description: Fair. Cover has marks, few spills, bumping, creases-Marks on edge-Bumped / dogeared pgs-Some marks & dampstains on pgs-Number on FFEP-Edgewear. read more
Binding: Softcover
Publisher: Appleton-Century-Crofts, NY
Date Published: 1955
Description: Fair. No Jacket. 8vo. Cover is bumped, soiled, torn on back & dingy w/edge wear, repaired spine and permanent notes on front & back. Pgs. are browning & soiled w/repaired gutter & sticker on fep, permanent underscoring & marks in text. read more
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
Publisher: Editions Gallimard, Paris, France
Date Published: 1957
Description: Used-Acceptable. Academic, Scholarly, Research. 12mo-over 6¾"-7¾" tall. 187 pp Book shows some heavy use. First front end page loose but present. Heavy descoloration or browning. Pencil markings throughout book. Previous owner's name written on cover page and first front and page. read more
Binding: Trade Paperback
Publisher: Gallimard, Paris
Date Published: 1957
Description: Good + No Jacket. 8vo. Livre de Poche 406. 179pp. Has wear. Covers lightly rubbed and soiled. Sticker on front cover. Covers creased. Pages Browning. Internally Clean. Lang: French. Vols: 1, Wt: 1lbs. read more
Binding: Trade Paperback
Publisher: Gallimard, Paris
Date Published: 1957
Description: Good + No Jacket. 8vo. Livre de Poche 406. 179pp. Has wear. Corners Bumped. Covers rubbed and soiled. Ink name colored over in mark on inside front cover, which bleed onto 1/2 title page. Pages Browning. Internally Clean. Lang: French. Vols: 1, Wt: 1lbs. read more
"I don't know what to do with these stars anymore. I give stars to books and then I think, 'god, you give five stars to everything, people will think you are terribly undiscriminating' - so then I give four stars or even three stars to some books. Then I look back and it turns out that that I've given four stars to Of Human Bondage and honestly, how could I possibly have thought it was a good idea to give that book less than five stars? It is the absurdity of human conventions that has us doing such things.
Now, that is what is called a segue, from the Italian 'seguire' - to follow.
For the last thirty years I have studiously avoided reading this book. I have done that because for the last thirty years I have known exactly what this book is about and there just didn't seem any point in reading it. In high school friends (one of them even became my ex-wife) told me it was a great book about a man condemned to die because he was an outsider.
Later I was told that this book was a story about something much like the Azaria Chamberlain case. A case where someone does not react in a way that is considered to be 'socially appropriate' and is therefore condemned.
But after 30 years of avoiding reading this book I have finally relented and read it. At first I didn't think I was going to enjoy it. It didn't really get off to the raciest of starts and the character's voice - it is told in first person - was a bit dull. He is a man who lives entirely in the present, how terribly Buddhist of him - although, really there doesn't seem to be all that much to him.
My opinion of the book began to change at his mother's funeral. I particularly liked the man who kept falling behind in the march to the cemetery and would take short cuts. Okay, so it is black humour, but Camus was more or less French - so black humour is more or less obligatory.
I really hadn't expected this book to be nearly so funny as it turned out. I'd always been told it was a ponderous philosophical text - and so, to be honest, I was expecting to be bored out of my skull. I wasn't in the least bit bored.
A constant theme in my life at present is that I read 'classics' expecting them to be about something and they end up being about something completely different. And given I've called this a 'constant' theme then you might think I would be less than surprised when a read a new 'classic' and it turns out to be completely different to my expectations. I'm a little more upset about this one than some of the others, as I've been told about this one before, repeatedly, and by people I'd have taken as 'reputable sources' - although, frankly, how well one should trust one's ex-wife in such matters is moot.
I had gotten the distinct impression from all of my previous discussions about this book that the guy ends up dead. In fact, this is not the case - he ends up at the point in his life where he has no idea if he will be freed or not. The Priest who comes to him at the end is actually quite certain that he will be freed. Let's face it, he is only guilty of having murdered an Arab, and as we have daily evidence, Westerners can murder Arabs with complete impunity.
The main point of the book to me is when he realises he is no longer 'free'. He needs this explained to him - because life up until then had been about 'getting used to things' and one can 'get used to just about anything'. But the prison guard helpfully informs him that he is being 'punished' and the manifestation of that punishment is the removal of his 'freedom'. Interestingly, he didn't notice the difference between his past 'free' life and his current 'unfree' one.
The most interesting part of the book to me was the very end, the conversation with the priest. The religious often make the mistake of thinking that Atheists are one thing - I've no idea how they ever came to make this mistake, but make it they do. Given that there are thousands upon thousands of different shades of Christians - from Jesuit Catholics to Anti-Disney Episcopalians - it should be fairly obvious that something like Atheism (without any 'organised' church or even system of beliefs) could not be in anyway 'homogeneous'.
I am definitely not the same kind of Atheist as Camus. To Camus there is no truth, the world is essentially absurd and all that exists is the relative truth an individual places on events and ideas. This makes the conversation with the priest fascinatingly interesting. To the priest the prisoner who is facing death is - by necessity - someone who is interested in God. You can play around with ideas like the non-existence of God when it doesn't seem to matter (life is long and blasphemy can seem fun) - but surely when confronted with the stark truth of the human condition any man would turn away from their disbelief and see the shining light.
Not this little black duck. Now, if I was in that cell I would have argued with the priest too - but I would not have argued in the same way that Meursault argues. No, I do not believe in God, but I do believe in truth, and so Camus' arguments are barred to me.
Meursault essentially says, "Look, I'm bored, I'm totally uninterested in the rubbish you are talking - now go away". Now, this is a reasonable response. What is very interesting is that the priest cannot accept this as an answer. The world is not allowed to have such a person in it - if such a person really did exist then it would be a fundamental challenge to the core beliefs of the priest. So, he has to assume Meursault is either lying to him or is trying to taunt him. But it is much worse - he is absolutely sincere, he is not interested in this 'truth'.
I don't know that the world is completely meaningless, it is conventional rather than meaningless. That those conventions are arbitrary (decided by the culture we grew up in) doesn't make them meaningless, it makes them conventional. I don't think I would like to live in a world where people go up and kill Arabs pretty much at random and with impunity, but then again, we have already established this is precisely the world I do live in. My point is that it would be better if we did adhere to some sort of moral principles and that these should be better principles than 'he should be killed because he didn't cry at his mum's funeral'.
Camus is seeking to say that all of our 'moral principles' in the end come to be as meaningless as that - we judge on the basis of what we see from the framework of our own limited experience. And look, yes, there is much to this - but this ends up being too easy.
The thing I like most about Existentialism, though it isn't really as evident in this book as it is in the actual philosophy - although this is something that Meursault is supposed to have grown to understand (sorry, just one more sub-clause) even though this wasn't something I noticed at all while reading the book, was the notion of responsibility. I didn't think in the end Meursault was all that much more 'responsible' for his actions than he had been at the start. But I do think that 'responsibility' is a key concept in morality and one that seems increasingly to be ignored.
Better by far that we feel responsible for too much in our lives than too little - better by far that we take responsibility for the actions of our governments (say) than to call these governments 'them'.
I'm not advocating believing in The Secret - but that if one must err, better to err on the side of believing you have too much responsibility for how your life has turned out, rather than too little.
So, what can I say? I enjoyed this much more than I expected - but I'm still glad I waited before reading it, I really don't think I would have gotten nearly as much out of it at 15 as I did now."
"The book is simply written and a rather quick read, but the depth Camus manages to convey through this simplicity is astounding. I think a problem a lot of people have with this book is that they fail to look beyond the whole "what is the meaning of life" message. While an interesting question, the book raises so many other philosophical questions beyond this. What I found the most interesting of these is "what truly defines humanity or makes someone human?" During Meursault's trial, he is constantly accused of not showing remorse and therefore as being cold and inhuman. He is most definitely human though, just rather detached. This raises the question of whether one should be expected to exhibit certain characteristics in certain situations to "keep their humanity".
Also it raises the question of whether much of our emotion is created by ourselves or the expectations of others to exhibit certain emotions in a given sitatuion. The book is also an indictment on people's efforts to dictate other people's lives. We are constantly told what is right and as a means to justify our own sense of "what it means to be human". We often impose these characteristics upon others, expecting them to fulfill similar traits and characteristics, as they have been already imposed on us. It is in a way, a self-justification of our actions as right or "humanly". Constantly, Meursault is being told he must live and/or act a certain way, whether it be by the judge, his lawyer, or the priest. Once he doesn't conform to these measures, he is marginalized and called "inhuman"; this is an attempt on the part of the others to rationalize their own ways of life and understandings. If they manage to declare him "inhuman", it allows them to call themselves human and justify their own means of living.
In the end, this book is one that raises many more questions than it answers, but in true philosophical fashion, they are really questions without answers."
"Call it existensialist, call it pessimistic, or just flat out boring, but no matter what you call it, this is one of the most affecting novels I've ever read. It encourages free thinking, as the narrator doesn't give you any direction on how to feel or what to think about events over the course of the novel. As Tina would say "it's a thinker.""
"The narrator, Meursault, is a fascinating character in that he has an incredible sense of material resignation about him. He absolutely rejects all concepts of importance to the absurd trivialities of life while at the same time living with such simple pleasure that one can't help but smirk reading the descriptions in the first half of the book.
His indifference to the way he is perceived leads him to a very level-headed but unsympathetic countenance regarding his friends and acquaintances. The terrible irony of his character is that he rejects the false certainty of religious sentiment and other such realms of impossibly dubious nature, rejects them along with an understanding and statement of love (which he continually denies to Marie, his girlfriend, who asks him if he loves her periodically), along with material possession and the "bitch goddess" success (he turns down a promotion for "no reason" whatever), Meursault rejects all these common sentiments and yet replaces them with nothing, nothingness, in fact.
He constantly flees from all manifestations of false knowledge, finding them arbitrary. The trial following his murder of an Arab resulted in the victor of the most skillful lawyer instead of whether or not he was guilty, Marie vainly prodded him to proclaim his love for her, to which he replied that the question is nonsense, the priest, assuming that Meursault valued the physical, things of the world, asked him relentlessly why he valued these things and why he doesnt seek God for help in his time of trouble, to which he replied by grabbing him by the cossack (half expecting him to disappear in his hands)and describing the impossibility of being sure of such things, described why he could not believe the same notions, "From the dark horizon of my future a sort of slow, persistent breeze had been blowing toward me, all my life long, from the years that were to come. and on its way that breeze had leveled out all the ideas that people tried to foist on me in the equally unreal years i then was living through."
All is helpless and arbitrary and what can one do but relish that which one is sure of.
"It might look as if my hands were empty. Actually, i was sure of myself, sure about everything, far surer than he; sure of my present life and of the death that was coming. That, no doubt, was all i had; but at least that certainty was something i could get my teeth into - just as it had got its teeth into me. I'd been right, i was still right, i was always right. I'd passed my life in a certain way, and i might have passed it in a different way, if I'd felt like it. I'd acted thus, and i hadn't acted otherwise; I hadn't done x, whereas I had done y or z. And what did that mean? That, all the time, I'd been waiting for this present moment, for that dawn, tomorrow's or another day's, which was to justify me."
"It was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, i laid my heart open to the benign indifference of teh universe. To feel it so like myself, indeed, so brotherly, made me realize that I'd been happy, and that I was happy still. For all to be accomplished, for me to feel less lonely, all that remained to hope was that on the day of my execution there should be a huge crowd of spectators and that they should greet me with howls of execration.""
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