Paul P. Mealing

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04 June 2026

An excursion into the absurd with Camus as a guide

Someone lent me a book on Camus, titled Albert Camus and the literature of revolt. It was written by John Cruikshank, ‘the first professor of French at the University of Sussex; founding the French studies department at that institution in 1962’ (Wikipedia). It was first published in 1959, but I believe the edition I had was the ‘third Galaxy printing, 1963’, even though the copyright says 1960 just to confuse everyone.

 

Camus died 4 Jan 1960, but the author references him consistently as still alive, which is what you’d expect if it was written in 1959. It’s a very dense read, even for an academic. I’m not exaggerating when I say I found Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason an easier read (mind you, that was over 25 years ago).

 

I read 2 of Camus’ novels in high school (in the 1960s): The Plague (in English) and L’Etranger (in French). The Plague had quite an effect on my fertile brain at the age of 16, because it challenged a short lifetime’s indoctrination in Christianity. To be fair, I was already challenging the concept of God I had been raised on, so I think my mind was ripe. I’ve read it twice since, which says a lot. I saw the recent movie, The Stranger, based on the novel, L’Etranger, and I have to say I thought it was very well done, even down to the use of black-and-white visuals to capture the period, and found it very true to my memory of it.

 

Camus is famous for his philosophical position on the absurd, which is effectively the subject of Cruickshank’s tome over 224 densely worded pages. Having said that, I believe Camus’ position is often misrepresented and Cruikshank appears to agree, so a large portion of his text deals with disabusing us of the widely held belief that Camus’ entire philosophical position was that life is absurd and we have no choice but to accept it. Many cite his treatment of the Myth of Sisyphus as evidence of this position (refer next paragraph). In reality, Camus seems to have spent his entire intellectual life looking for a resolution to the absurd condition, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

 

For those who don’t know, The Myth of Sisyphus is Camus’ literary essay on a Greek mythology concerning the punishment given to Sisyphus: ‘who was condemned to repeat forever the same meaningless task of pushing a boulder up a mountain, only to see it roll down again just as it nears the top. The essay concludes, "The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."’ (Wikipedia)

 

Also, according to Wikipedia, ‘The absurd lies in the juxtaposition between the fundamental human need to attribute meaning to life and the "unreasonable silence" of the universe in response.’ As an aside, many scientists seem to take this position by default. In fact, Paul Davies, whom I often cite on this blog, refers to this position by most scientists as the ‘absurd universe’ without any hint of irony. In response, Davies argues that humanity is in the privileged position of being able to ‘unravel the plot’ (his phrase), but that’s perhaps too much of a diversion for this post, though I may return to it later

 

I have my own thoughts on the myth of Sisyphus in that it’s like a time loop, which of course, is not what Camus had in mind. In fact, I think the Marvel movie, Dr Strange (starring Benedict Cumberbatch) alludes to the myth towards the end, when Dr Strange traps his nemesis in a time loop – a point I make in my online review. The thing about a time loop is that you’d have no memory of the previous loop, in the same way that, if you were reincarnated, you’d have no memories of your previous incarnation. And, logically, that’s the only way one could deal with eternity.

 

I remember as quite a young child (pre-teens) lying in bed one night trying to grasp the concept of infinity or eternity and you literally look into the abyss. You realise how impossible it is to conceive – it’s a mind-fuck in the real sense of the term. In other words, we are not meant to comprehend it – it’s literally beyond our conception let alone perception. I’ve long argued that only in mathematics, does infinity have a home – in fact, it’s built into its foundations, despite the efforts of many to get rid of it.

 

So, with that in mind, the myth of Sisyphus is another way to look at eternity and show that it’s truly absurd to a human consciousness. It renders eternity into an activity that we can comprehend and viscerally feel. I know that’s not the absurdity that Camus had in mind, but that’s my take-home lesson. The truth is that we couldn’t live with immortality even if it was offered.

 

A detour. Now back to the main theme: Camus’ attempt to deal with the intrinsic absurdity of life without resorting to metaphysics. Early in his book, Cruikshank discusses a quote from The Myth of Sisyphus that brings Camus’ preoccupation with the absurd into focus.

 

“There is only one really serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide.”

 

In fact, Cruikshank discusses this at length, but basically Camus is asking us: if life is absurd, why not end it? In conclusion, Camus contends that suicide is not an escape from the absurd but giving into it, and it’s hard not to disagree with him. But this begs another question: how does one live with the absurd if that’s all the universe has to offer.

 

Camus argued that we need to revolt but seemed to struggle with how that can be achieved without revolution, especially when revolutions invariably involve violence. One suspects this is a major reason for Camus rejecting Marxist communism, which led to a falling out with his contemporary French philosopher and writer, Jean-Paul Sartre. Anyone who has read Marx and Engel’s treatise on communism will know that revolution is a key step in its inception.

 

Right towards the end of Cruikshank’s book, when he discusses Camus’ plays, there is a very lucid and insightful analysis of his play, Les Justes, which is about the plotting and assassination of the Grand-Duke Sergei Alexandrovich (referred to as Grand-Duke Serge). Camus had this to say about its historical veracity:

 

However strange some situations in this play may appear they are nevertheless historically true… All my characters really existed and behaved in the way I describe. I have simply tried to give probability to what was already true.

 

Cruickshank makes the point that, in his view, this play is far superior to others Camus wrote in the depiction of the characters and the tensions between them. The reason I feel it’s worth discussing is because it seems to address the inherent tension between idealism and terrorism, personified by 2 of the main characters, that seems to arise ineluctably when people combine political ambition with violent means.

 

There is another quote by Camus in a completely different context, which I feel is relevant:

 

"But practically, I know men and recognise them by their behaviour, by the totality of their deeds, by the consequences caused in life by their presence."

 

Camus was involved in the French resistance, and would have observed the best and worst in men, as did my father in a German POW camp. They both would have appreciated better than most of us how our moral compass can become distorted in a war environment. Both Camus, based on his writings and stated beliefs, and my father, based on what little he was willing to tell me, were very principled in the face of brutal conflict. One could argue that war is the absolute epitome of the absurd, yet men can sometimes find something abstract to hang onto so that they survive, not only physically but mentally.

 

Camus rejected existentialism, according to his own testimony, yet the one strand that runs through the novels I read and the one movie I saw, Far From Men (based on a short story) is the protagonists’ authenticity, though I suspect Camus would have loathed that term. Cruickshank repeatedly makes the point that Camus was a product of 2 environments: European France and Mediterranean Algiers. In both, I suspect, he felt an outsider and that’s a recurring theme in the fiction I am familiar with.

 

I will end by going off on a completely different tack, as is my want. Early in his text, Cruikshank said something that caught my attention, which was an allusion to ‘truth’. This is the quote out of context:

 

Camus claims that reason is powerless and he offers no comparable alternative to truth.

 

Now, one assumes that Camus is talking about metaphysical truth or the absolute truths that religious texts claim they provide. After all, I believe this is Camus’ biggest bone of contention: that metaphysics in the form of so-called religious truths can’t deliver us from our absurd condition.

 

However, I have a counter argument. The obvious answer to me is mathematics. What’s more, I claim that mathematical truths transcend the universe therefore are metaphysical. There are 2 dictionary definitions of ‘metaphysical’, both relevant to mathematics in my Platonist view.

 

1.     Based on abstract reasoning

2.     Transcending physical matter or the laws of nature

 

Here’s the thing: given that the Universe follows mathematical rules that transcend the universe, at both its deepest level and its cosmological scale, how can it be intrinsically absurd? What would be absurd, is a universe without consciousness. It’s our very presence that makes the Universe not absurd, and I feel that’s what Camus missed, though it was staring him in the face.

 

Since I started writing fiction, I realised that nearly all fiction is about relationships. There are exceptions – Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea springs to mind. The subtext of all the fiction I’ve written is about relationships and companionship; and all that entails, including separation, betrayal and redemption. It’s in relationships that we find meaning in this short interval of existence, with or without metaphysical purpose.


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