Jan 29, 10
Read in January, 2010
I have a weird edition, with a photograph -- a kind of minimalist collage -- on the cover, it looks very 1971. Plus pages are falling out, as I read them -- including the one saying who is the translator. Or the publisher. As the book went on -- and I read it over many long months -- I began to feel more and more accused, by the nameless protagonist. (Or does he have a name? I think so.) Setting it an Amsterdam was a touch of genius. In a bar called Mexico City (reminds me a lot of the fabled Mars Bar on 2nd St and 2nd Ave). It's a book about drinking, about friendship, about meeting someone in a bar. I began to notice the sensitive touches of particularity to the character. Camus must've been reading Socrates. His existentialism was always the best -- it doesn't become dated, like Sartre's. It's possible that all Christianity today derives from Camus.