Stranger

I read most of Camus: A Life, by Olivier Todd. Got all the way through the Second World War.  But I could not finish it.  Once I got off the airplane, it went straight back to the library.  I don't know if it was Olivier or the translator, but the book was slow going for reasons of style and content.  First off, it was full of useless detail -  Camus and his friends met at the bar and had drinks.  Camus became angry when a stranger flirted with his girlfriend.  Really, he did.  And why would one care?  Too much pointless detail, which often seemed to be there just because the information was available.  He liked somebody or other's bean soup.  On the other hand, maybe it was just the wrong sort of book for me.  Maybe I was looking for a different sort of biography, one a bit more tied to the writing and intellectual development.  Olivier has almost nothing about intellectual development.  It all picked up a bit during the war period, and a instructive.  It is pretty easy for us -- me -- to think about the War period as involving a certain amount of resistance.  It is a good thing to be reminded of how limited the resistance was, and the degree to which the intellectual life of France (at least) went on with little disturbance.  And also to be reminded that, even so, there was some rather interesting intellectual effort, successful effort, during the period.  Maybe instead I should just reread the essays.

Comments

[vibram five fingers]

It all picked up a bit during the war period, and a instructive.