The Fall by Albert Camus

I didn't really know anything about Camus' book The Fall when I picked it up for reading. All I really knew was that it was the last of his works to be published before his death; as such I suppose I was expecting something that was perhaps more complex than what I'd read in The Outsider and The Just Assassins. I certainly got that at least.

The Fall consists of the confession of a man named Jean-Baptiste Clamence. He meets another Frenchman in the bar in Amsterdam that he has taken to frequenting, and over the course of several nights confesses to his sins. Basically, it's a character study. And it's certainly an interesting one.
The main topic that is often referenced is that of judgement and penitence. Clamence's main issue with life is that he becomes convinced that everyone around him is judging him, and in the process mocking him; thus a lot of his confession is the lengths that he goes to either to stop the judgement occurring or to make himself superior to it. What it adds up to is a fascinating character portrait that is sympathetic and yet utterly self-absorbed at the same time. For example, one of the things that he mentions is that he used to be incredibly generous and helpful to people in need, as it made him feel morally superior; while the motives are selfish, can one really judge him negatively if the results of his actions are good? I say that, but at the same time there are things that he confesses to, like walking away after hearing someone fall off of a bridge, that are harder to justify, even if it does feel like it rings true to life.
The translator's notes bring up an interesting viewpoint for the novel: the idea that Clamence is either a satirical portrayal of a former friend of Camus', Jean-Paul Sartre, or a self-portrait of the author. Although I only know the basics of the disagreement between the two men, I can certainly see why people see the former interpretation working. I think it would be more interesting to look into the latter interpretation more, as it's very much removed from the idealised version of oneself that authors are tempted to write into their stories; it takes a lot of courage to write a version of yourself that is this morally ambivalent.

This is the kind of book that I really want to talk about more, but struggle to. I don't for a second believe that I've understood it all in this reading, so I would say that those looking for books that benefit multiple readings will probably enjoy this. What I can say from my initial reading is that those looking for a well-written, in-depth character study will like The Fall. I would also say that those who were put off of Camus by The Outsider might want to take a look at this, as the narrator is more noticeably charming compared to Meursault. Definitely a book to try at least once. 4.5/5

Next review: The Child of Pleasure by Gabriele D'Annunzio

Signing off,
Nisa.

The Just Assassins by Albert Camus

I needed something short after the slog that was That Awful Mess on the Via Merulana. I got that with The Just Assassins, a five scene play. Considering how much I enjoyed The Outsider, I was very much looking forward to reading more of his work. So were my expectations met?

The plot of The Just Assassins centres around a group of revolutionaries in Russia, presumably some time at the beginning of the 20th century, as they plot to assassinate a prominent member of the nobility in order to bring Socialism to the land. This is one of those problematic plays, as it makes one question their own personal moral code. It puts forward the question of "Is murder justifiable, if it is for political reasons?", and that is a question that is rather uncomfortable to consider in a post-9/11 and 7/7 society; granted, the murder committed in The Just Assassins has its limits, but my point still stands. What makes it an especially uncomfortable question is that it doesn't really give us any answers. On the one hand, the revolutionaries are very much dedicated to the ideal of social justice, which is admirable considering that they mention the tsars, a regime not much remembered for its fairness; additionally, the majority of them draw a line at casualties including children. On the other hand, we get to see the personal damage that this man's death creates on his loved ones, specifically his wife; at no point does a man become purely a symbol, and that is a fact that the revolutionaries seem to forget.
It's definitely an interesting play, so if you happen to see an adaptation of it advertised, I would definitely recommend it. There's only one thing that bothered me, and that was the way in which the revolutionaries are referred. They're referred to in the stage directions as terrorists. While this is a legitimate view of them, it seems a bit too emotionally loaded a word to use, especially in such an oddly neutral play. I don't know what kind of word was used in the original French version, but it seemed a bit leading to use the word in the translation.

So, to finish. This is definitely a play that I would recommend seeing, or at the very least reading, if you're looking to have your perceptions played with. I'd also recommend it if you're looking for something to mentally stimulate you, but at the same time not be too taxing. 4/5

Next review: The Fall by Albert Camus

Signing off,
Nisa.

That Awful Mess on the Via Merulana by Carlo Emilio Gadda

This is the kind of book that I would probably never have even have heard of were it not for my university courses. And of all my books, this one had one of the more intriguing premises. So how did it hold up?

So, to the premise. It's Mussolini's Italy, around 1937 to be precise, and in the Via Merulana in Rome, there have been two crimes in the same apartment building in quick succession. The first is a robbery in which a widowed Countess is robbed of her jewellery, while the second is the brutal murder of a young married woman. The main character, Doctor Ingravello (also known as Don Ciccio), who is investigating these crimes with the police was a secret admirer of the murdered woman, as well as friends with her husband, so he is particularly keen to find the culprit. At the same time, the book aims to portray and criticise Mussolini's Italy. Sounds like a great premise, right? Well, That Awful Mess on the Via Merulana doesn't really live up to it.
As a mystery novel, it leaves much to be desired. Mainly because neither plot thread has an ending. The robbery plot thread is more closed, as the jewels are found, but otherwise the reader is left with a feeling of incompleteness as neither story feels like it was given adequate attention. The other thing that left the mystery fan in me cold was that there is only ever one possibility that the plots follow; there is never any sense of tension because the author only ever gives us one suspect to consider at any one moment, presenting no other alternatives. It says on the blurb that Ingravello finds that everyone in the apartment block comes under suspicion, but this is an out and out lie; there is a grand total of one other person in the building who comes under suspicion, the rest being outsiders who have had dealings with the building in the past. I just feel that the mystery novel aspect, which is the one advertised on the back, is poorly developed and more meant to be a vehicle for the social commentary.
There's a lot of social commentary. Social commentary on a society that had died out about 11 years before the book was published. Social commentary that cannot get to the point. You see, Gadda wraps up most of his social commentary in LOADS of symbolism and metaphor, to the point where a lot of what he's saying is completely lost; as far as I could tell from the translator's note, this was due to timidness and not wanting to offend people. So he wrote what was meant to be criticism of a long dead regime in Italian history and he muddles it so as to not offend people. One, who in their right mind defends Mussolini of all people? Two, how much of that regime remained to be offended by Gadda's criticisms? I just fail to see the point of loading your book with what I imagine to be witty commentary in its original form, only to then change it so that no-one understands it. It's especially frustrating, as the writing is evidently very good; granted, the translation apparently loses some of the original flavour due to the inability for people to translate dialects, but what makes it through is promising stuff.

So overall, a frustrating read. I wanted to like this book, considering its premise, but by the end all I can see is an unfinished narrative that is confused about just what it wants to be. 2.5/5

Next review: The Just Assassins by Albert Camus

Signing off,
Nisa.

Don Quixote, Books 1-3 by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

I'll admit, I was quite looking forward to this. I like reading classics and I like reading foreign literature, so this should be right up my alley, seeing as it ticks both boxes. That was until I figured out that it shares a problem that I highlighted in my review of Pamela.

Don Quixote follows the misadventures of Don Quixote de la Mancha, a wealthy landowner who deludes himself into thinking that he is a knight-errant after he reads too many courtly romances. It's meant to be a satire of the courtly romance genre, which was so popular at the time.
The problem with this is that, for me at least, the satire fails by not being amusing. There is a reason for this: it's the one that I alluded to in the introduction. My main problem with the events depicted thus far is that they're utterly horrifying when you consider them with a modern perspective. The protagonist is a mentally ill person who lets himself loose upon the countryside and potentially ruining many people's lives. Here's an example that sprang to my mind: you see the hat that he's wearing in that book cover up there? That was the spoils of charging at a barber surgeon, totally without warning, with a lance; if you think of that in more modern terms, that's the news story when someone gets attacked by a crazy homeless man with a knife after he decides that he's taken a liking to the traffic cone that the victim decided would be a good idea to wear after a party. That's far from the worst of it either: he tramples an entire herd of sheep because he thinks that they're a pagan army in one instance, and in another he sets loose a group of convicted criminals. Am I just supposed to forget the consequences of his actions here? For all I know, that flock of sheep was someone's only means of sustenance and those criminals could have wreaked havoc following their release. I fail to see what I'm meant to find funny here; certainly, it's absurd, which can count for comedy, but in this case it's just sad to watch the delusions of an old man who has no idea what he's doing.

There are two books left of this, but I'm not sure that I'll get round to reading them. Technically, I suppose this counts as a DNF, but I feel that I should still rate this. I didn't like this because it felt wrong to laugh at the misfortunes of a mentally ill person. I suppose that those who can get past that might enjoy it, but for me it just presented too big a problem. 1/5

Next review: That Awful Mess on the Via Merulana by Carlo Emilio Gadda

Signing off,
Nisa.

The Outsider by Albert Camus

The Outsider is the other book that I have had to re-read for my university reading list. It is a book that I first read in college, so about three or four years ago. My classmates at the time, who also had to read it, were less than enthusiastic about it; for me, it was something of a revelation.

The plot follows the life of a French Algerian named Meursault in the months after the death of his mother. His reaction is an unusual one to say the least: while many would have spent months grieving and adjusting to the loss of a parent, his response is to continue life as he has always done, with little to no remorse. This oddly muted behaviour continues to baffle his friends, but is otherwise considered harmless, until one day he kills a man for no reason; but now, in the public eye, his behaviour appears monstrous and his muted emotions evidence of a complete lack of human feeling. From the premise, I can see why many people would be put off; certainly, the lack of empathy with Meursault is the one complaint that I always hear. But for me, feeling empathy for Meursault isn't why I like this book: I already know that I won't ever understand him as a person. I like this book because I admire Meursault's guiding principle, even if I understand its limitations. What I admire about Meursault is his adoration and strict adherence to the truth, at least as he is able to express it; he doesn't exaggerate or lie about his feelings for the benefit of society or to make life easy. I may not agree with his reactions to situations, but at the same time I can't help but admire his straightforward attitude. In terms of personal philosophies, I can also admire his habit of living in the present, appreciating what he has and not deluding himself with the idea that if he somehow had a different life everything would be wonderful.

I suppose that this review has been more of a personal retrospective than an actual review. What I would say is that this is worth at least an attempt at reading. For me it was a light after several years of bullying and other socialising issues, and I'm sure that it can mean a lot to many other people. It can, on the other hand, seem completely alien and uninteresting. But at the very least, I would at least give it an attempt. 4.5/5

Next review: Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes

Signing off,

Nisa.  

Dracula by Bram Stoker

Well now, onto my reading list for university. I decided that I would start it off by re-reading the ones that I've already read through at one time or another. Hence why this review was changed last minute from Windfall to Dracula, a title that I haven't actually read in full since high school. I had some issues with it then, so a large part of me was wondering whether I would still have problems with it now, or whether it was part of being young and stupid.

For those of you who have really been living under a rock for years, Dracula chronicles the stories of a group of people whose lives are changed completely by the intrusion of Count Dracula, a powerful vampire who has grown tired of feeding in his home in Romania and decides to make a new feeding ground in Victorian London. Our plucky group decide that this just isn't on, so they band together to stop Dracula from filling London with the undead. It's a pretty basic story really: monster enters, monster is destroyed by pinnacles of society at the time. But Dracula does have several factors in its favour that stop it from being boring. First, is Count Dracula himself; he is still genuinely creepy after all these years. I suppose it's the fact that he starts off acting so charming towards Jonathan Harker that when he shows his true colours, he is all the more chilling because of his former charm. The other aspect is that this is an interesting kind of time capsule in regards to Victorian society, particularly the characters and their roles in society. The people that make up the intrepid group hunting Dracula are taken from various important groups in society: for example, there are Jonathan Harker and Dr Seward, a lawyer and a doctor respectively, representing the growing middle classes, and then Arthur Holmwood representing the traditional aristocracy; the fact that they are embracing the new technology that comes of the industrial revolution is also very interesting, especially in the way that it is juxtaposed with the traditions and superstitions that were slowly being phased out at the time.

The one real con that I have with the book is one that may surprise you. It's the Count. Well, not the Count as a concept, more the Count's actions in the book; his conduct as an antagonist is moronic. This is actually the problem that I had with Dracula the first time I read it. In choosing his victims, Dracula doesn't seem to do his homework all that well. First he torments Jonathan Harker by locking him in Castle Dracula with three undead women; his first real victim upon reaching England is the best friend of Jonathan Harker's fiancée. Having turned said best friend into the undead, he proceeds to target the group again, this time most definitely on purpose, by biting Mina Harker. If you're trying to set up a new life spreading death and disaster upon a new country, surely the last thing you want is to make your presence known to a specific group of people that you happen not to like? And even if you do insist on persecuting a particular group of people, why on earth a group of people with an insane amount of pooled knowledge and assets? Seriously, there are no lower-class heroes or heroines in Dracula; if there had been, the vampire would have won. As it was, the targeting of a group who can afford to chase you back to Transylvvania was a monumentally stupid idea. The afterword mentions the idea of persecution as a leftover from his life as a Romanian prince, but that just seems like trying to defend an element of the novel that is ridiculous no matter how you look at it.

Overall, I would definitely give Dracula a try; it's a classic for a reason and has more than stood up to the test of time. Dracula's actions are kind of stupid when you really think about it, but as a whole it is a very solid read. 4/5

Next review: The Outsider by Albert Camus

Signing off,

Nisa.  

Richard III by William Shakespeare

I've been looking forward to reading Richard III for a long while now. Why this one in particular? It has one of the most gleefully enjoyable villain protagonists that I have had the pleasure of reading; having found a comic adaptation of an abridged version of the play whilst in high school. Having now read the full play, my expectations were more than met.

For those who have lived under a rock for many years, here's the plot. Richard Duke of Gloster, having helped his elder brother Edward to claim the throne (events that I covered partially in my reviews of the Henry VI plays), decides to usurp his elder brothers and their offspring. In his plot to become king, he decides that the best course of action is to kill anyone and everyone who might be a threat to his claim, and for a time it does work very well. It is only when he goes a step too far that things start to fall apart. But by god, it is fun while it lasts: as a villain protagonist, Richard is just so enthusiastic about being evil that it's really rather infectious. Granted, it means that the Richard III fan-club burst a collective blood vessel whenever the play is performed, but I think that the writing and characterisation for Richard is by far the strongest aspect of the play, regardless of the dubiousness of the play's historical accuracy.
My high opinion of the text was probably to the detriment of my enjoyment when watching the BBC adaptation. The text created such vivid visualisations for me that the actual film adaptation jarred with what had been floating around in my brain. As it was, this was still a very good adaptation in all but one aspect: sound. Almost all the dialogue was incredibly loud at some points, then unintelligibly quiet at other points; it was most frustrating to have to strain to hear Shakespeare's fantastic dialogue, with the knowledge that I'd be deafened if I turned up the volume any louder.

I did consider writing a defence for the real Richard III, but I decided that, interesting as history may be, I am here to assess the merits of Shakespeare's reinterpretation of the man, not compare the two versions. As a play, it's fantastic; it's the rise and fall of a man who doesn't learn when he's made one corpse too many. As a history lesson, it's flawed at best, but if you're consulting Shakespeare as a historian then you have other problems. 5/5

Next review: Dracula by Bram Stoker

Signing off,
Nisa.