"A single sentence will suffice for modern man: he fornicated and read the newspapers." So pronounces Jean-Baptiste Clamence, narrator of Albert Camus's short novel during the first evening of a monologue he delivers to a stranger over drinks at a shabby Amsterdam watering hole. Then, during the course of several evenings, the narrator continues his musings uninterrupted; yes, that's right, completely uninterrupted, since his interlocutor says not a word. At one point Clamence states, "Alcohol and women provided me, I admit, the only solace of which I was worthy." Clamence, judge-penitent as he calls himself, speaks thusly because he has passed judgment upon himself and his life. His verdict: guilty on all counts.

And my personal reaction to Clamence's monologue? Let me start with a quote from Carl Jung: "I have frequently seen people become neurotic when they content themselves with inadequate or wrong answers to the questions of life. They seek position, marriage, reputation, outward success of money, and remain unhappy and neurotic even when they have attained what they were seeking. Such people are usually confined within too narrow a spiritual horizon." Camus gives us a searing portrayal of a modern man who is the embodiment of spiritual poverty - morose, alienated, isolated, empty.

I would think Greco-Roman philosophers like Cicero, Seneca, Epictetus, or Marcus Aurelius would challenge Clamence in his clams to know life: "I never had to learn how to live. In that regard, I already knew everything at birth.". Likewise, the wisdom masters from the enlightenment tradition -- such as Nagarjuna, Bodhidharma and Milarepa -- would have little patience listening to a monologue delivered by a smellfungus and know-it-all black bile stinker.

I completed my reading of the novel, a slow, careful reading as is deserving of Camus. The Fall is indeed a masterpiece of concision and insight into the plight of modern human experience.

Here is a quote from the Wikipedia review: "Clamence, through his confession, sits in permanent judgment of himself and others, spending his time persuading those around him of their own unconditional guilt."

Would you be persuaded?

Recently, I was part of a discussion with my wife and two of my daughters. The underlying theme was gender equality. Óne óf óur ðáughters ŕefrenced a situation she viewed on youtube. Ít concerned a man startled by a revelation from his wife that she planned to divorce him when the children are all grown and left home. This shocked him because all along he thought he was a good father and husband who provided well for his family. He ássumed that his wife was happy with the way things were.

At the time of this discussion I had just finished reading 'The Fall' by Albert Camus. I was struck by the relevance of our discussion to the main character's image projection and his expectation that this image of himself would be accepted by others, especially those with whom he was in close relationship.

'The Fall' is a lengthy dramatic monologue reminiscent in content and style of the poet Robert Browning. The narrative is not structured for easy reading besides, the occasional superficiality and long-windñess at times dull ínterest. However, much of the prose, as translated, is beautiful and complements well the deep probé into human thoughts and actions and so overrides any features that take away our interest.

The narrator calls himself a 'judge penitent'. He explains it as a strategy which enables him to judge others without attracting judgments against himself. In his words, "to elude judgments ". This is not merely an attitude he ascribed to himself, but one he believes is indicatíve of all peoples:"People hasten to judge in order not to be judged thenselves". Camus may not have intended it as such, but I see it as a caveat to distance himself from any views expounded by his narrator. This accords well with the nature and purpose of exploring freely morality, relationships, and a world without God. Furthermore, by necessity, it fosters the emergence of many pertinent questions, which readers must ponder and pursue for themselves. I find this fits in appropriately and provocatively in the framework of my faith.

My faith is driven by two anxioms:"Faith seeks understanding"(St. Anselm) and doubt fortifies faith (Browning). As I was reading this book I was constantly challenged by a multitude of questions not necessarily in the text but certainly emerging from it:what is the basis for doing "good"? Is it from a "decree" written in nature bereft of a God? Is it to derive pleasure? This last question reminds me of Hemingway:what is moral is when you feel good after the act...(cf. 'Death In The Afternoon').

An essential tenor of Camus' dramatic monologue is the idea that the master-slave profile is the preferred mode for human relationships. Unmistakably, this has contributed significantly to humanity's downfall.

As outrageous and long-winded as Camus' dramatic monologue may be, it is well worth reading to help us establish boundaries for a meaningful existence.

A brilliant philosophical work rather than a plot-driven novel...

As others have stated so far this is an interesting and deep novel, one that drags you into its questionable and illusory narration through the use of the first person monologue. With this in mind, the novel becomes necessarily more complex and demands the reader's attention at all times. Nothing should be taken for granted - not the speaker's ideologies, professed history, and certainly not the way in which he is talking to another character. The manner in which the tone and companionship moves throughout the novel is as important as anything else - do not for a second fall into the persistent trap of thinking that Monsieur Clamence is speaking to you, the reader.

The novel requires no extensive knowledge of philosophic topics in order to be appreciated, however, having that knowledge will only enrich the experience. Anyone with an interest in ethics, social roles, confession or simple artistic capability will enjoy this short, but dense novel.

On a final note, the novel presents a startling insight into the nature and power of confession, which is ultimately what Clamence is performing (reliable or not). Foucault's the History of Sexuality Part 1 speaks to this matter, one which is every bit as pertinent to the content and experience of *The Fall* as is any other philosophic or artistic reference, and one that is consistently relevant.

“I know what you’re thinking; it’s very hard to disentangle the true from the false in what I am saying. I admit you are right.”

In Albert Camus’ The Fall, an expatriate Frenchman indulges us through a narration that gives us glimpses of his past, a journey that includes his experiences of being a lawyer as well as philosophical points about his life experiences. There is a sense that he omits quite a bit from his narration, and Camus’ style creates this.

While I realize that this book is highly regarded in literary circles, I felt like this reading experience was only so-so.

I know mostly it was the author’s intentions, but the rambling, stream of consciousness quality to the story left me feeling rather detached from the narrator’s tale, and thus uninterested. There is a scatterbrained sort of effect where he begins, stalls, starts a subject, diverts, leaves the subject, and then goes onto something else. It is very jarring and difficult to latch onto what he is reporting to us. I have read novels where stream of consciousness is handled in a more capable way by the author; this is not the case here at all. Everything sort of falls flat because there is too much of a separation and disconnect between the reader and his story, resulting in his audience being indifferent to what he is saying.

And this brings me to the next point: the rather unremarkable narrator, who is speaking to us for the entirety. He reveals bits and fragments of his life experiences in a part boast, part confessional, duplicitous, self-indulgent, sort of way, but the fact that he is not putting all his cards on the table makes it difficult to care one way or another.

Admittedly, this is my first read of Camus, so I am not familiar with his style. I bought The Stranger a few years ago and have it on my to read pile, but I might put it on hold for a bit.

This author has received so many accolades over the years that there's really no need for me to add to them.

Camus will really make you think and get new insights into your own motivations. One especially for me is the attraction of the harshness of the Republican Party. It was more than a little embarrassing. At the end he makes the observation that if you admit your failings completely up front with people it tends to disarm them when they try to get condemning. This is certainly worth reading and savoring his perceptive intelligence.

It is hard to classify this book -- it is referred to as a novel (or even a novella), but in many ways, it better serves as a philosophical discourse.

The book starts in a seedy bar, where a former lawyer is speaking with a visitor to the bar (the visitor is referred to as "you," as if the reader is in fact the visitor). The narrator explains, over the course of a few days, how his perspective on life fundamentally shifted. While the narrator once was eager to give to charities and help others, he has since chosen to cease this lifestyle in favor of debauchery and self-fulfillment. He explains that the only real reason that he was doing noble things such as helping others was the attention and praise that he received from it.

Camus is a very good writer, and the book moves at a quick, readable pace. Stylistically, it is very reminiscent of Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground. This was perhaps intentional -- Camus was a noted admirer of Dostoevsky, and Notes from Underground is often attributed as the start of the Existentialism movement of which Camus was a key part.

Camus also makes some very apt criticisms of human tendencies. Of particular note is the narrator's discussion of the change in attitudes and treatment of the recent dead. The observation that the dead are placed on a pedestal is perhaps not entirely unique, but Camus's discussion of why they are placed on a pedestal is reticent.

Ultimately, however, Camus's philosophy (or at least the philosophy of the narrator) is empty. The narrator's shift from doing good to doing nothing is never expressly critiqued, and indeed seems supported by the Existentialist approach of self-satisfaction. From a philosophical perspective (or even from a mere human perspective), this seems hollow and unsatisfying. After all, while the narrator was acting to help others (even for his own selfish tendencies), at least some ascertainable good was created.

So, while The Fall acts as a gateway to discussion and intellectual inquiry, it also provides a discouraging non-answer to the questions it raises regarding the worth of humanity.

Best book I've read this year, although the protagonist(and probably the author) is far from a correct solution to his problem. Still, he's found the problem, and that's an innovation in the modern era.

It’s good

Short and a great book for deepening your understanding of Camus

Version kindle, il n'y a que le Malentendu... Oubli de taille tout de même...

Good Packing, good quality paper as this book deserves best.

Baskısı düzgün.