The Plague
Updated: Aug 8
A few things struck me upon reading Albert Camus’s The Plague. First, it reminds me of Kafka, who I adore, in tone as well as style. Second, the town of Oran plays as crucial a role here as does Monterey in Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. One is able to picture Oran as clearly—no, even more clearly—than one could otherwise with photographs or film. Third, in its examination of humanism, religion, absurdism, and existentialism, it is as much a work of philosophy as it is fiction. It can be read, and quite enjoyed, superficially, as a finely crafted tale about the horrors of a bubonic plague and its affects on a town and its people. But, as masterful allegory, it can be read on many layers and in many ways, often within individual sentences, with each reader’s life experiences bringing new and different interpretations to the novel’s meaning. In this regard, I imagine The Plague rewards repeated readings in a way many other books do not. Finally, and though I have no business saying this—both owing to the fact that many hundreds of books are published each year and I read but a few, and that, on its face, the statement itself is utterly ridiculous (apropos, no?)—it seems like they just don’t write books like this anymore. But before I return for a rereading, I’ll keep doing my level best to find out.
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