On The Fall and The Myth of Sisyphus

Before I run commentary on The Fall, I want to mention that I’ve enjoyed reading Camus’ works.  They have proved worthy of time and effort.  He makes strong claims in his elegant narratives, it’s great stuff.  

I noted before that Meursault from The Stranger didn’t seem monstrous to me.  Never fear: I found my monster The Fall’s protagonist, Jean-Baptiste.  Someone in class said it was eerie to read Jean-Baptiste’s long flowing speeches about his own modesty.  Uh, yeah.  And it was extremely creepy to read his self-satisfied pronouncement of justice and penance.  I was shocked to learn that Jean-Baptiste had run through his ruse of being a judge-penitent with many people before "us," the listening lawyer and us readers.  If it had been me, at that point of revelation, I would have been looking for the quickest, most effective way to get out of the room and away from such a calculating, deceitful, manipulative man.  However, speaking as an artist, it’s interesting to see how far Camus could push my disillusionment; from mere disappointment in The Stranger to shock and horror in The Fall.  Referencing my commentary on The Stranger, monologuing arch-villain style is another aspect that makes Jean-Baptiste like the monster I didn’t find in Meursault.  The whole entire book is an arch-villain monologue, good grief!  

Someone said they’d consider Jean-Baptiste a role model for all the good deeds he did.  My question is, are we reading the same book?  I don’t understand how it’s possible to look up to such a person.  It’s not a simple matter of acknowledging that “nobody’s perfect” and “everything anybody does has some degree of hypocrisy/ulterior motive. ”  Jean-Baptiste recounted (in detail!) the way he willfully seduced, used, and abused a woman just because she’d hurt his pride.  That is beyond being a player.  He fantasized about beating an old motorcyclist within an inch of his life just because the motorcyclist was rude to him in front of other drivers who were pressuring him.  That is beyond being a bad driving experience.  My problem is his monologue.  The very fact that he talks about his misdeeds, repeatedly, without remorse, without change—how does that qualify as penance?  What is it worth, to “realize” you’re wrong, to plumb the depths of your evil thoughts and actions, and continue in evil?  Let’s not get confused here.  Jean-Baptiste was perfectly clear that he did not want forgiveness.  He didn’t even want to evade punishment.  He wanted to be lofty, above reproach!  Oh Camus, how you lure me into a false sense of security.  A love for high places sounded so sweet in the beginning.  But Jean-Baptiste soured in the end, just like Meursault.  The way Jean-Baptiste ACTUALLY wanted to be lofty was by escaping judgment, not by being virtuous and thus deemed innocent.  He wanted to dodge just judgment and remain “just as he was,” haha? 

Now that we’ve read a few things by Camus in class, I’m starting to wonder how much of Camus books reflect his mind.  No author can divorce his own mind from his own writing.  No matter how much anyone would like to attribute an idea or speech to a character, let’s get real: the character’s thoughts and actions are a figment of the author’s imagination, just as the character itself is.  I’m well aware that a person can write a murder mystery and not be a murderer his- or herself—that’s not what I’m saying.  Camus talked about absurdity in The Myth of Sisyphus.  It made me wonder how Camus can be so sure that life is absurdly without meaning and at the same time do anything at all.  How does an artist not despair if simultaneously he's proud of his work and believes it to be meaningless?  How can he even open his mouth to speak?  I guess he covers that in the revolt, the idea of tossing your head at despair and speaking anyway.  I can admire that in a survival capacity, but I think that’s a sad worldview to keep for one’s entire life.  To illustrate, sometimes it’s necessary to do things I don’t understand and push past feelings of despair when it seems stupid/absurd to even try.  But that’s for a reason, to get to a better place, another perspective.  I can hardly imagine what it’s like to do that every day for years as a personal philosophy when mere episodes of revolt are exhausting!  

Someone once refused to believe that defeatism is honest.  So do I.  I don’t think it’s logically imperative to accept the proposition that life is meaningless.  For one thing, a single person can’t assert that definitively.  People are too small, too brief to make such a claim.  For another thing, logically speaking, the claim that "no meaning is in life" is a universal negative, which is unsustainable.  All I have to do is contradict that statement by finding at least one instance of life which is meaningful.  Here’s one: the fact that you’re reading this blog about my ideas and comparing them to your own ideas.  This exchange of ideas is significant, expressive,  purposeful.  Furthermore, wouldn’t you say that in the continuum of all that is meaningful, my blog is comparatively less meaningful?  Surely there is something else in your life which has greater meaning than this particular exchange of ideas.  One last thing: at this point, it could be said that this exchange is not only less meaningful on a continuum, but it is meaningless altogether.  It could be said that ultimately, my blog and your reading of it will come to naught.  But entertain me for a minute: what kind of ultimate meaning are you looking for, anyway?  Really, what kind of immutable, imperishable, perfect, and supreme reason/purpose/meaning are you looking for?  Do you know what would satisfy your idea of “ultimate meaning” and could you explain why it’s not fulfilled?  Because that discussion would definitely have to take place before I could be able to consider, much less accept, that idea that life is in fact meaningless.