لعبة الأوراق والنور: الجزء الأول

Notebooks #1

by Albert Camus, ألبير كامو, Najwa Barakat (Translator)

تشكِّل مفكرة كامو، بأجزائها الثلاثة، خارطة عملاقة لمحطات أساسيّة في رحلة استكشاف كامو لجغرافيا الكتابة: جغرافيا رواياته وبحوثه ومسرحيّاته وما رافقها من نوايا وشكوك ومخاض. إنّها الجغرافيا الداخليّة لكاتب ما استقرّ قطّأو هنئ على الرُّغم من نجاحاته، فبقيتْ روحه على أرقٍ ما بين الإيمان الراسخ بالإنسانيّة وقيمها، وشتاؤمٍ لا يتزعزع يقينُه بعبثّية الحياة.

Genres: Philosophy, Nonfiction, Literature, France, Biography, Memoir, French Literature

261 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1962

About the author

Works, such as the novels The Stranger (1942) and The Plague (1947), of Algerian-born French writer and philosopher Albert Camus concern the absurdity of the human condition; he won the Nobel Prize of 1957 for literature.

Origin and his experiences of this representative of non-metropolitan literature in the 1930s dominated influences in his thought and work.

He also adapted plays of Pedro Calderón de la Barca, Lope de Vega, Dino Buzzati, and Requiem for a Nun of William Faulkner. One may trace his enjoyment of the theater back to his membership in l'Equipe, an Algerian group, whose "collective creation" Révolte dans les Asturies (1934) was banned for political reasons.

Of semi-proletarian parents, early attached to intellectual circles of strongly revolutionary tendencies, with a deep interest, he came at the age of 25 years in 1938; only chance prevented him from pursuing a university career in that field. The man and the times met: Camus joined the resistance movement during the occupation and after the liberation served as a columnist for the newspaper Combat.

The essay Le Mythe de Sisyphe (The Myth of Sisyphus), 1942, expounds notion of acceptance of the absurd of Camus with "the total absence of hope, which has nothing to do with despair, a continual refusal, which must not be confused with renouncement - and a conscious dissatisfaction."
Meursault, central character of L'Étranger (The Stranger), 1942, illustrates much of this essay: man as the nauseated victim of the absurd orthodoxy of habit, later - when the young killer faces execution - tempted by despair, hope, and salvation.

Besides his fiction and essays, Camus very actively produced plays in the theater (e.g., Caligula, 1944).

The time demanded his response, chiefly in his activities, but in 1947, Camus retired from political journalism.

Doctor Rieux of La Peste (The Plague), 1947, who tirelessly attends the plague-stricken citizens of Oran, enacts the revolt against a world of the absurd and of injustice, and confirms words: "We refuse to despair of mankind. Without having the unreasonable ambition to save men, we still want to serve them."

People also well know La Chute (The Fall), work of Camus in 1956.

Camus authored L'Exil et le royaume (Exile and the Kingdom) in 1957. His austere search for moral order found its aesthetic correlative in the classicism of his art. He styled of great purity, intense concentration, and rationality.

Camus died at the age of 46 years in a car accident near Sens in le Grand Fossard in the small town of Villeblevin.

Chinese 阿尔贝·加缪

Reviews

[Nikos Tsentemeidis · Rating 5 out of 5]

«Ο άνθρωπος δεν θα μπορούσε να ζήσει, στερημένος από καθετί αμαρτωλό. Θα ζούσε όμως πολύ καλά στερημένος από καθετί ιερό»

[Maria Bikaki · Rating 4 out of 5]

Κάθε φορά που υποκύπτουμε σε τούτες τις ματαιότητες, κάθε φορά πουσκεφτόμαστε και ζούμε για το «φαίνεσθαι», προδίδουμε. Σε κάθε περίπτωση, η μεγάλη συμφορά του φαίνεσθαι με μείωσε πάντα απέναντι στο αληθινό. Δεν είναι αναγκαίο να δίνεσαι στους άλλους, αλλά μόνο σε όσους αγαπάς. Γιατί τότε δε δίνεται κανείς για το φαίνεσθαι, αλλά μόνο για να δίνει. Υπάρχει μεγαλύτερη δύναμη στον άνθρωπο η οποία φαίνεται μονάχα όταν είναι αναγκαίο. Το να πηγαίνεις μέχρι την άκρη σημαίνει να ξέρεις να κρατάς το μυστικό σου. Υπέφερα που ήμουν μόνος, αλλά, επειδή φύλαξα το μυστικό μου, νίκησα τον πόνο του να είμαι μόνος και αγνοημένος.

Να είσαι φτιαγμένος για να δημιουργείς, να αγαπάς και να κερδίζεις παρτίδες, σημαίνει να είσαι φτιαγμένος για να ζεις ειρηνικά. Αλλά ο πόλεμος σου μαθαίνει να χάνεις τα πάντα και να γίνεσαι αυτό που δεν ήσουν. Όλα είναι θέμα στιλ

Λατρεμένος και πάντα επίκαιρος Καμύ

[Fahim · Rating 4 out of 5]

چقدر شیرین و دوست داشتنی بود، آشنایی بیشتر با شخصیت و تفکرات کامو از لابلای یادداشتهای شخصیش...بی واسطه...بدون سانسور و نگاه کردن به دنیا از زاویه ی نگاه او...
هرچند خودش در جای جای این یادداشتها بارها متذکر شده که از مکنونات قلبی ، احساسات شخصی و مسائل خصوصیش چیزی ننوشته و نخواهد نوشت!
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میگویم ((خودم)) و منظورم این" تأثر بی اندازه " است که مرا از بند محیط رهایی میدهد...دَمی دیگر، توجهم باز به چیزهای دیگر و مردم بازخواهد گشت.اما بگذار من این لحظه را از طومار زمان بِبُرَم .چنانکه دیگران گُلی را لای صفحات کتاب میگذارند...
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ازچیزی نخواهم گفت جز عشقم به زندگی.اما این نکته را به شیوه ی خود خواهم گفت.
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هربار که سخنرانی سیاسی میشنوم یا سخنرانیهای رهبرانمان را میخوانم، از این که سالهاست هیچ حرفی که بار انسانی داشته باشد نشنیده ام، به وحشت می افتم...
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آن سنگی که آفتاب گرمش میکند، یا آن سروی که در برابر آسمان خالی بزرگتر دیده میشود، محدوده ای به وجود می آورند برای تنها جهانی که در آن( برحق بودن) معنایی می یابد...طبیعتِ بی انسان....این جهان مرا فنا میکند، مرا تا به عمق وجودم میبرد، بی هیچ خشمی منکرم میشود...
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نیازی نیست که خودمان را پیش دیگران بروز دهیم، البته جز نزد آنان که دوستشان داریم؛چرا که در این مورد، بروز دادن خود تظاهر نیست، دهش است...
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باید عشقی داشت، عشقی بزرک در زندکی؛از آنرو که این عشق برای نومیدی های بی دلیلی که ما را در چنگ می گیرد‌، عذر موجهی بتراشد.
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سیاست و سرنوشت بشر، به دست مردانی شکل میگیرد که نه آرمانی دارند و نه شأن و عظمتی.مردانی که شأن و عظمتی در درون خود دارند، به سیاست نمی پردازند.
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نخستین کار این است که ساکت بمانی، تماشاچیان راحذف کنی و یاد بگیری داور خویش باشی.
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کار،تنها وقتی شأنی دارد که به اختیار و رغبت برگزیده باشیم.تنها بیکاری است که ارزش اخلاقی دارد، چون میتواند معیاری برای داوری انسانها باشد...کار ،همه را تا به یک سطح خُرد میکند.
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چه درماندگیِ نکبت باری نهفته است، در وضع انسانی که کار میکند، در تمدنی که بر پایه ی انسانهایی که کار میکنند، استوار است...
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عشق وجود ما را از خودخواهی پاک نمیکند، بلکه ما را از آن آگاه میکند.
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گرایش به یک نظام، نشانه ی بی هویتی اخلاقی است.
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انسان اندیشمند،وقتش را صرف وفق دادن دوباره ی اندیشه اش با واقعیت های جدیدی میکند که اندیشه اش را نفی میکنند.در این گرایش به دیدنِ وجه دیگر قضایا و در این تصحیح آگاهانه ی خطاست که حقیقت تعلیم زندگی نهفته است.
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میتوان از هستی نومید شد،چون هستی در ید قدرت ما نیست، اما نه از تاریخ که در دست فرد است.
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درد عشق را میتوان شناخت، اما خود عشق را نه...درد عشق،محرومیت و حسرت و دستان خالیست...
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انسانها آگاه نبوده اند که در سیاست، تا چه اندازه برخی از انواع تساوی، دشمن آزادی است.در یونان انسانهای آزاد وجود داشتند، چون برده وجود داشت...
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آنچه مانع از تکمیل کار است، عاقبت تبدیل به خودِ کار میشود.
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تکلیف همه چیز را روشن میکنی،همه چیز سر راست و ساده است.اما بعد، رنج بشری وارد قضیه میشود و همه ی طرحها را به هم میریزد...

[Edita · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sitting in the wind, emptied and hollowed out inside, I spent all my time thinking of [...]
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I shall have eaten up all my hope.
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[...] living also implies thinking about life—that living is, in fact, precisely this subtle relationship between a man's experience and his awareness of it.
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And the world has become merely an unknown landscape where my heart can lean on nothing.
*
The sand dunes facing the sea. The faint heat of early dawn, and our bodies stripped bare before the first waves, still bitter and dark with night. Every summer morning on the beach feels like the first morning of the world, and every evening like its solemn ending. Evenings on the sea knew no restraint. The sunbaked days on the sand dunes were overwhelming. At two in the afternoon, you feel drunk after walking a hundred yards along the burning sand. In a moment you feel you will fall and be slain by the sun. In the morning, the beauty of brown bodies against the yellow sand. The terrible innocence of games on the beach and bare bodies in the bounding light.
At night, the dunes turn white under the moon. A little earlier, the evening brings out all the colors, makes them deeper and more violent. The sea is ultramarine, the road red, the color of clotted blood, the beach yellow. Everything disappears as the green sun goes down, and the dunes glisten with moonlight. Nights of limitless happiness under a rain of stars. Is it another body that we hold in our arms, or the soft warmth of the night? And then the night of the storm, when flashes of lightning grew paler as they ran along the dunes, and put an orange or whitish color on the sand and in our eyes. These are nuptials that can never be forgotten. To be able to write: I have been happy for a whole week.

[فايز غازي Fayez Ghazi]

- بعض الدفاتر التي كان يستخدمها البير كامو لتدوين فقرة او فكرة او مقطع او حوار او تخطيط خطر بباله... قبل واثناء كتاباته لبعض مسرحياته ورواياته (بين مايو 1935 و فيراير 1942)، هذا بالإضافة الى بعض "مراجعاته" وآراءه الأدبية والفلسفية.

اليوم استراحة، وقلبي ذاهب للقاء ذاته.

امر غريب. العجز عن البقاء وحيداً. العجز عن عدم البقاء وحيداً، نتقبّل الإثنين. الأثنان مفيدان

تماماً مثلما يجعلنا موت كاتب نبالغ في اهمية اعماله، يجعلنا موت احدهم نبالغ في تقدير مكانته ما بيننا. وهكذا فإن الماضي بأكمله مصنوع من الموت الذي يأهله بالأوهام.

ان الحرب تشنّ بحماسة الذين يرغبون في اندلاعها، بمثل ما تشنّ بيأس الذين يرفضونها بكل ارواحهم.

"انها دائماً لجريمة كبرى ان ندمّر حرّية شعب يحجّة انه يسيء استعمالها" توكفيل

[Geoff · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've been reading Camus' notebooks on and off for the past few months, in spare moments, in between other books, in bed, on the metro, etc. I love this man. Through this first volume of notebooks, one can glean just how much of the novels and essays that were to come (and I think every one of his writings has some merit, is worth your time), was germinating really distinctly, early on, in the young man. Leaving Algeria and traveling north through Italy and France and then returning south, his observations of the people, places, roiling political atmosphere of Europe in those extraordinary times, all of the ideas that were to be so objectively laid out in the future oeuvre were here taking root- the individual's place in a post-industrial collectivized society; the worth of money, time, the freedom of the mind in the face of grinding labor and political/cultural alienation; the dignity of a human life and human works in a lee between times of utter destruction on such a grand impersonal scale; descriptions of nature- and city-scapes; sketches of people in squares and the abandoned courtyards of relics of the Renaissance (the lineage of which leads directly to the Existentialists); Paris, Florence, the Algerian coast and its blazing light he made famous; workbook sketches of A Happy Death (which was to become The Stranger) stuttering and starting and forming and reforming- the intimate correspondence with the self of an artist in development, a humanist and thinking being feeling his way through the singularly strange, beguiling, and intense years of the middle of the twentieth century. Looking at all that came after, and especially in comparison to his contemporaries, Camus seems to me ever more important, ever more a signal to those thinkers with a heart, with a sympathetic and empathetic love of life.

[Amani Abusoboh · Rating 4 out of 5]

هذا عمل أقل ما يمكن أن يُقال عنه أنه ساحر!

أقتبس هنا مقطعًا أُخذتُ به

"بم نخوض الحرب:
بما يعرفه الجميع
بيأس الذين لا يريدون خوضها
بعزة نفس الذين لا شيء يرغمهم على الرحيل ويرحلون لكي لا يكونوا وحدهم
بجوع الذين يتطوعون وقد فقدوا عملهم
بكم هائل من المشاعر النبيلة من نوع:
التضامن في العذاب
الاحتقار الذي لا يريد التعبير عن ذاته
غياب الكراهية
هذا كله يُستعمل بدناءة، وهو كله يُفضي إلى الموت"

[Takisx · Rating 5 out of 5]

Τι λέει ο πρίγκιπας εδω; δεν νιώθουμε αισθήματα που μας μεταμορφωνουν, αλλά αισθήματα που μας υποβάλουν στην ιδέα της μεταμόρφωσης.


Ασύλληπτος

[Ken]

Interesting to read this mishmash of both Camus' thoughts and his readings. Many in this time period are trial run pieces that eventually land in Sisyphus and The Stranger. He reads and comments on philosophers, historians, playwrights, religious writers and, of course, novelists.

It's lucky Camus, unlike Melville, was an early talent rewarded with publication in his younger years. I say this because, for a guy keenly interested in death, AC meets the Reaper earlier than expected small thanks to a car crash when he was only 47. All the livres we'll never read!

Some samples of his samples:

"In the second century, discussion about Christ's personal appearance. Saint Cyril and Saint Justin: to give all its mean to the incarnation, it was maintained that Christ must have looked mean and disgusting. (Saint Cyril: 'the most hideous of the sons of men.')

"But the Greek attitude was: 'If he is not handsome, he is not God.' The Greeks won."



"At the siege of Sebastopol, Tolstoy jumped out of the trenches and ran toward the bastion under heavy fire from the enemy. He was horribly afraid of rats, and had just seen one."


"The people one day applauded him, which caused Phocion to remark: 'Have I said something stupid?'" (Editor's note: Given the popularity of certain politicians today, this quote particularly resonates.)


"The sand dunes facing the sea. The faint heat of early dawn, and our bodies stripped bare before the little waves, still bitter and dark with night. The sea lies heavily on the body, which is renewed and runs on to the beach in the first rays of sunlight. Every summer morning on the beach feels like the first morning of the world, and every evening like its solemn ending. Evenings on the sea knew no restraint. The sun-baked days on the sand dunes were overwhelming. At two in the afternoon, you feel drunk after walking a hundred yards along the burning sand. In a moment you feel you will fall and be slain by the sun. In the morning, the beauty of the brown bodies against the yellow sand. The terrible innocence of games on the beach and bare bodies in the bounding light."


"'Oh, my soul, do not aspire to immortal life, but exhaust the limits of the possible.' Pindar, Pythian" (Note: Camus used this quote to introduce Sisyphus. Paul Valéry used it as well to introduce Le Cimetière Marin.)


"Death of Louis XVI. He asks the man taking him to the guillotine to deliver a letter to his wife. Reply: 'I am not here to run your errands, but to take you to the guillotine.'"


"Every time I hear a political speech or I read those of our leaders, I am horrified at having, for years, heard nothing which sounded human. It is always the same words telling the same lies. And the fact that men accept this, that the people's anger has not destroyed those hollow clowns, strikes me as proof that men attribute no importance to the way they are governed; that they gamble---yes, gamble--- with a whole part of their life and their so-called 'vital interests.'"

[Steven R. Kraaijeveld · Rating 4 out of 5]

"One thinks one has cut oneself off from the world, but it is enough to see an olive tree upright in the golden dust, or beaches glistening in the morning sun, to feel this separation melt away." (10)

Over the past years, I had been haphazardly reading Albert Camus's notebooks, dipping in and out of them as the mood struck. This is usually how I approach collections of notebooks, diaries, letters, and so on. I don't necessarily read them from beginning to end. But there always seems to come a point when I want to read the collection once and for all—to read it more systematically, from beginning to end. Once I've done this, I can not only say to myself that I have read it, but I can also write a review of it—and, in some way, leave it behind (even while knowing that I'll return to it).

This is what happened with Camus's notebooks. I just finished the first volume, which begins in May of 1935 and ends in February of 1942. For the most part, this is a young Camus writing—virtually unknown to the (literary) world, still developing his ideas and coming to terms with his experiences. There are lots of reflections on Algiers and Oran, on the sea and landscapes that he knew so well and loved dearly (even if they occasionally inspired 'indifference'). There are also many first attempts at writing that would later be published—in particular, the novel A Happy Death. Some of the passages would be lifted almost verbatim from the notebooks into the final manuscript. It is fascinating to try to follow the developments in Camus's thinking and writing. What struck me especially is the influence of Nietzsche, whom Camus quotes a number of times throughout the notebooks. Other influences are relatively obscure—contemporaries and friends of Camus, some known to me but others not.

The first volume of the notebooks is an interesting mix, then, of 'actual' writing (that is: writing that would be published later on as novels, stories, plays, and various collections of nonfiction), reflections (some standalone—but much of it also related to perennial concerns for Camus), and more regular notebook-type entries, like goals and, occasionally, engagement with developments at the time (like the war). The subjects span a wide range: from art, writing, and philosophy, to women, illness, and war. I wrote a longer piece on Substack about the somewhat unexpected theme of money and happiness in Camus's notebooks, which I relate to Dostoevsky here: https://stevenrkraaijeveld.substack.c...

There is some helpful editing, but quite a lot of potentially helpful commentary is left out. Some entries, in the form of "The story of S." leave the reader guessing (and sometimes the editor, Philip Thody, admits that the reference could not be determined). You can take from the entries what you want, of course—brush past some and look up others. After all, these are notebooks—if you want the polished stuff, you can read one of the many collections of Camus's essays. All in all, though, there is enough of substance in this first volume to make for an engaging and instructive read; both in and of itself, but also in relation to Camus and his development as a person and writer. I will move onto the second volume now.

"...beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time." (6)

[Robert · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gândurile, trăirile și experiențele unui om mic într-o lume mare. Sau poate un om mare într-o lume mică? Nu vom afla niciodată, însă aflăm multe lucruri despre omul, Albert Camus, din paginile acestui ,,jurnal’’. Sunt notițe simple, poate banale în aparență, dar extrem de profunde în multe momente. Merită!

,,Spune: <>.”

Pag. 89

[ميّ H-E · Rating 5 out of 5]

مرحباً بكم داخل رأس ألبير كامو

لن تكون كلمة مذكرات دقيقة تماماً لوصف الكتاب

فهي خربشات كامو في دفاتره

خواطر.. تدوينات.. مقاطع اقتبسها لاحقاً في رواياته ومسرحياته.. مشاريع وأفكار لأعمال أدبية

كيف لمن يحب أدب هذا الرجل وفلسفته أن يفوت جلسة دافئة معه في الأجزاء الثلاثة من هذه المفكرات

لم أقرأ بعد مذكرات تتفوق على جمال دفاتر كامو وسأنتقل مباشرة إلى جزئها الثاني..

[muthuvel · Rating 5 out of 5]

How often we get influenced by dead people and their ideas? It is not a typical book review/post, it could rather be considered as a confession.

It might seem like a typical shit that one could see with a blasé mindset especially in these internet times people running out of things to say but nevertheless this guy changed the course of my life. I remember reading him for the first time through The Myth of Sisyphus by October 2017. I was a rational believer, a part-time researcher at IIT Madras back then, and now I'm a self-conscious messed up human being. Thanks to Camus and a few other beings.

"What interests me is knowing how we must behave and more precisely, how to behave when one doesn't believe in god or reason."

No surprises, I'm indeed filled with delusions just like every other human beings. Every now and then, I have this delusion that I'm aware of a fewer handful of dead people who kind of figured out everything in their damn lived lives. I strongly believe Camus is one of them. Reading this Journal is a sort of Pilgrimage into his mind on how he built things from the scratch especially this volume showers some light on the development of the novels The Stranger, his posthumously published A Happy Death, Caligula, and Essays like Myth of Sisyphus and The Rebel.

"A man who sought life where most people find mnmarriage, work, etc and who suddenly notices, while reading a fashion catalogue, how foreign he has been to his own life (life as seen in fashion catalogue)", wrote in August 1937 by Camus, was often considered as the precursor of his novel, The Stranger where the protagonist Meursault was intended to be seen as a man who had gone through the experience of the absurd before the story began.

Life's full of divine absurdities and I'm glad to find my way into seeing things in a broader perspective because of this man. .
Adding more delusion, it motivates me to scribble more on my slack journal. Either way, absurdity reigns, rebellions and revolts comfort while we imagine ourselves to be what we ought to be.

Albert Camus
07/11/1913 - 04/01/1960

[mai ahmd · Rating 3 out of 5]

الكتاب رائع كأنك تدخل في رأس كامو حين تخطر له بعض الأفكار أو بعض القصص أو وهو يضع اللبنات الأولى لروايتيه الغريب والموت السعيد .. كان الكتاب ممتعا لولا أن مع المضي في القراءة تكتشف تعثر الترجمة في إيصال أفكار كامو .. حري بمثل هذا الكتاب الرائع أن يحصل على مترجم رائع يفهم عمق نصوص كامو ومدى شفافيتها

[Naele]

تجربه تجربه کردنی نیست. تجربه برانگیخته نمی شود. به سر آدم می آید. در واقع صبر و نه تجربه. ما تحمل می کنیم یا به عبارت دیگر می کشیم.

عشق که می رود رنج سر بر می آورد.

همه ی تلاش من در هر موقعیتی در هر بدبختی در هرسرخوردگی از نو بر قرار کردن رابطه هاست و حتی در این غم خویش چه عطشی برای دوست داشتن دارم.

برای زنان محبتی که مرد می تواند بدون عشق به آنان بدهد چه اندازه تحمل ناپذیر است.

پولدار بودن به معنی وقت داشتن برای شاد بودن است.

[Kaveh Rezaie · Rating 5 out of 5]

برای بار دوم بعد از ده سال خواندمش...
انگار بار اولم بود...عالی...
وصف الجزایر نفسگیر است و چه عشقی به آنجا دارد. طرح‌هایی از کتاب‌هایش و چیزهایی که در ذهنش بوده را هم آورده. فکر می‌کنم نیاز است کتاب‌های دیگرش خوانده شود و بعد به سراغ این عیش مدام آمد.
در این میانه جنگ دوم هم آغاز می‌شود و کامو باز می‌نویسد برای خودش...
این‌ها از جنس یادداشت‌های کافکا نیست...به نظر شخصی و گاها لحظه‌ای نوشته...برای خودش...

[Corey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such a brilliant and lucid mind. These are not just bare bones jottings. There is meat and substance. I wore out a pencil underlining things.

[Negar Ghadimi · Rating 5 out of 5]

پوچیِ واژه‌ی تجربه. تجربه، تجربه کردنی نیست. تجربه برانگیخته نمی‌شود. به سرِ آدم می‌آید. در واقع صبر و نه تجربه. ما تحمل می‌کنیم، یا به عبارتِ دیگر می‌کِشیم.
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اگر هنوز اسیرِ پنجه‌ی اضطرابم، به سببِ اندیشه‌ی این لحظه‌ی لمس‌ناپذیر است که چون گلوله‌ای جیوه‌ای از میانِ انگشتانم می‌لغزد. بگذار کسانی که می‌خواهند، پشت به این جهان کنند ... من در این دنیا خوشبختم، زیرا ملکوتِ من گوشه‌ای از این دنیاست.
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قرنِ ما به خاطرِ باور داشتن به ارزش‌ها، و به خاطرِ باور داشتن به این که همه‌چیز می‌توانست زیباتر باشد و پوچ نباشد، می‌میرد.
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اگر کسی همین‌ جا به من می‌گفت کتابی درباره‌ی اخلاق بنویسم، کتابی که می‌نوشتم صد صفحه می‌داشت که نود و نه صفحه‌اش سفید بود. و روی صفحه‌ی آخر می‌نوشتم: «من تنها یک وظیفه می‌شناسم، و آن عشق ورزیدن است.» و راجع به بقیه‌ی چیزها می‌گویم: «نه». با تمامِ قدرتم می‌گویم: «نه».
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«در برابرِ مرگ خواهی لرزید.» «آری، اما هیچ‌چیز را در این مأموریتِ خود، که زیستن است، ناتمام نخواهم گذاشت.»
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می‌گوید: «باید عشقی داشت، عشقی بزرگ در زندگی، از آن رو که این عشق برای نومیدی‌های بی‌دلیلی که ما را در چنگ می‌گیرد عذرِ موجهی می‌تراشد.»
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احساساتی که داریم تغییرمان نمی‌دهند، بلکه اندیشه‌ی تغییر را به ما القا می‌کنند. پس عشق وجودِ ما را از خودخواهی پاک نمی‌کند، بلکه ما را از آن آگاه می‌کند و اندیشه‌ی سرزمینِ دوردستی را به ذهنمان می‌آورد که در آن خودخواهی جایی نخواهد داشت.
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می‌توان از مفهومِ زندگی در کل نومید شد، اما نه از شکل‌های خاصی که به خودش می‌گیرد. می‌توان از هستی نومید شد، چون هستی در یدِ قدرتِ ما نیست، اما نه از تاریخ که در دستِ فرد است ... جنگ همان قدر که ساخته و پرداخته‌ی شور و و شوقِ جنگ‌طلب‌هاست، ساخته و پرداخته‌ی نومیدیِ کسانی که از آن بیزارند نیز هست.
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تنها واکنشِ ممکن، در رویارویی با دنیای انسان‌ها، هر روز بیش از روزِ پیش، پناه بردن به دامانِ فردگرایی است. تنها خودِ انسان غایتِ نهایی انسان است.

[Alex Travis · Rating 5 out of 5]

- اما مرسو، آن‌طور که تو حرف می‌زنی به نظر نمی‌آید که این دنیا راضی‌ات کند.
- نه، راضی‌ام نمی‌کند، چون قرار است از من گرفته شود، یا چون زیادی راضی‌ام می‌کند، آن قدر که وحشتِ از دست‌دادنش را حس می‌کنم.
- نمی‌فهمم.
- نمی‌خواهی بفهمی.
- شاید.
پس از مدتی، پاتریس می‌رود.
- اما، پاتریس، عشق هست.
برگشت، اما چهره‌اش از نومیدی دگرگون شده بود. پاتریس می‌گوید: «آری، اما عشق مال این دنیاست...»

[Airam · Rating 5 out of 5]

Camus parle directement à mon esprit.
Ses mots souvent decalque mes propres intuitions - je ne suis pas habituée à ça...
Ses aphorismes, clairs et lucides, évoquent mes croyances silencieuses, ce qui en moi repose comme des songeries. Leur beauté m'arrête au milieu de la rue; je dois les répéter... encore et encore... Comment est-il possible qu'ils existent en dehors de moi?
Ils m'émeuvent avec des coups sûrs et fermes, frappant mon contentement avare et me forçant à faire face à l'étourderie avec laquelle je néglige les dons de ma sensibilité impromptue, souvent au nome de systèmes détachés, mais plus souvent encore pour rien du tout. Et voilà mon propre âme se figure plus dégagé... De temps en temps il se produit, le miracle de la clarté.

[Omar Gneedy]

عند قراءة كتاب تكون جالساً في رأس الكاتب، عندما تقرأ لكامو يكون هو جالساً في رأسك، صديقاً لك يشاركك حديثه وتجربته عن الحياة والوجود.
إن ما تكتسبه من هذه التجارب لا يمكنك أن تُقييمه

[Alice Wang · Rating 5 out of 5]

a man too deep in thinking to be understood by the public!

[Aurimas Nausėda · Rating 4 out of 5]

Trumpos mintys apie rašomus kūrinius, klastingus žmones ir gyvenimo keistus dalykus (gamtą, kaitą). Filosofo dienoraštis, kurį įdomu skaityti.

[betül · Rating 3 out of 5]

günlük karıstırır gibi okumak süper bi his ama yine de terapiye gitmesini öneririm

[AJ Nolan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I originally bought this collection in a small used bookstore I stumbled unto in a visit to Boston in the Fall of 2009. I bought the books (both this and the second edition) because they were beautiful and were the original translation and only the second printing (I could never afford the first printing). They sat on my mantel for a few years, with a handful of other "collectible" books, but then, in late March 2014, in a bit of a bad mood, and unable to find any book I wanted to read (despite having a to be read stack of over fifty books), I pulled this book off the shelf and began reading it. I believe I also may have been prompted to do this because of the various Camus celebrations that had been hosted a few months earlier, celebrating what would have been Camus' 100th birthday on November 17th 2013, like this podcast on TTBOOK (http://www.ttbook.org/book/albert-camus). And I am so glad I did, because this book cheered me up, and gave me perspective when I needed it, and a peek into the formative years of Camus, from the age of 22 to 29.

Camus is often heralded as an existentialist writer, a man who engaged in the philosophy of the absurd, and how to meaningfully live a life when there is no inherent meaning. With this description, it seems like it is the prescription for despair, and thus the last thing to read while depressed, but this is hardly the case. Camus embraces life, and he writes eloquently about how to do anything less than to fully embrace life is pointless, because life is all we have.

Camus is often mentioned as a philosopher, but he was not - or at least not the pure definition of a thinker engaged with pure reason and argument. He was a writer, a novelist, because that was where he could best seek for meaning and understanding. As he wrote in his journal, "People can think only in images. If you want to be a philosopher, write novels" (10) and then continues to remark that "A novel is never anything but a philosophy put into images. And in a good novel, the whole of the philosophy has passed into images." (11)

He is a man very much in touch with the substantive and physical world, and writes about physical setting in a way that rivals the great nature writers, and like romantic poets, also finds meaning and metaphor within the natural and manufactured world. He wrote:

"In the evening, the gentleness of the world on the bay. There are days when the world lies, days when it tells the truth. It is telling the truth this evening - with what sad and insistent beauty." And then he later remarks that "The world is beautiful and this is everything." (56)

He wrote about his struggles in balancing earning a living and writing. When he turned down a teaching post, he wrote that:

"I rejected it, doubtless because I saw security as unimportant compared to my opportunity for real life. The dull, stuffy routine of such an existence made me draw back . . . I was afraid, afraid of being lonely and permanently fixed . . . what made me run away was doubtless the fear not so much of settling down but of settling down permanently in something ugly." (70)

I have been engaged in similar conflicts between practicality and writing throughout my own life, and so find comfort in Camus, as I do with this more practical advice:

"Don't give way to conformity and to office hours. Don't give up. Never give up - always demand more. But stay lucid, even during office hours." (73)

I think I will post that on my office wall, or office door, to remind myself to stay lucid even when (or especially when) holding my University office hours.

And I must to remember what he wrote earlier in that same paragraph, that "The demand for happiness and the patient quest for it. We need not banish our melancholy, but we must destroy our taste for difficult and fatal things. Be happy with our friends, in harmony with the world, and earn our happiness by following a path which nevertheless leads to death." (73)

Camus is so hopeful in these early journals, calling for us to:

"create a new man within ourselves. We must make our men of action and men of ideals, and our poets into captains of industry. We must learn to live out our dreams - and to transform them into action." (79)

I could continue to quote Camus over and over again here. I haven't even mentioned all the moments of "The Stranger" and the "Myth of Sisyphus," and "The Plague" in their draft stages, but I'll end with two thoughts about writing from near the end of the journal.

"The problem in art is a problem of translation. Bad authors are those who write with reference to an inner context which the reader cannot know. You need to be two people when you write." (197)

And finally, this great conundrum, and call of the artist:

"Is it possible to live a monotonous repetitive life while perpetually haunted by the thought of a work to be created, or should we adjust our life to this work, follow the lightning flash?" (198)

That is the task of the writer, to bend and shape their life so that they can chase the lightning flash.

[Elahe · Rating 5 out of 5]

این همه وقت تعلل کردم و داشتم و نخوندم اگه میدونستم اینقد خوبه زودتر میخوندم

[Andrei Burlica · Rating 4 out of 5]

albert de ce ai intrat in copacu ala…

[Unbridled · Rating 3 out of 5]

Lucid, often lovely, but not a profoundly inspiring or moving object of literature. My first instinct is to avoid reading the other Notebooks too soon; on the other hand, it reads fast and is a pleasurable way to pass the commute away. I found the aphorisms more interesting than the 'exercises' and 'notes' that led to his novels/plays/essays. But alas, aphorisms are aphorisms, not truths but angles toward truths. Examples.

"That life is the strongest force - true. But the starting point of all kinds of cowardice. We must make a point of thinking the opposite."

"An intellectual is someone whose mind watches itself. I like this, because I am happy to be both halves, the watcher and the watched."

"To write is to become disinterested. There is a certain renunciation in art."

"I always end up by seeing every aspect there is of a person. It's a question of time. There always comes a moment when I feel the break. What is interesting is that this always happens when I feel this person lacking in curiosity about something."

"In September, the carob trees breathe a scent of love over all Algiers, and it is as if the whole earth were resting after having given itself to the sun, its belly still moist with almond-flavored seed."

"Huxley: 'After all, it is better to be a good *bourgeois* like the others than a bad bohemian, a false aristocrat, or a second rate intellectual...'"

"People talk a lot nowadays about the dignity of work...[b]ut it's a fraud. There is dignity in work only when it is work freely accepted. Only idleness has a moral value because it can serve as a criterion by which to judge men. It is fatal only to the second rate. That is its lesson and its greatness. Work, on the other hand, crushes everyone to the same level. It provides no basis for judging men. It brings into action a metaphysic of humiliation. Under the form of slavery which the society of right-thinking people now give it, the best men cannot survive its effects..."

"The temptation shared by all forms of intelligence: cynicism."

"The misery and greatness of this world: it offers no truths, but only objects for love...Absurdity is king, but love saves us from it."

"The peculiar vanity of man, who wants to believe and who wants other people to believe that he is seeking after truth, when in fact it is love that he is asking this world to give him."

"It is difficult to realize that one can be superior to a large number of people without thereby becoming someone superior."

"One thinks differently about the same thing in the morning and in the evening. But where is truth, in the night thought or in the spirit of midday? Two replies, two races of men."

"In every life, there are a great number of small emotions and a small number of great emotions. If you make a choice: two lives and two types of literature."

"The pleasure that one takes in male relationships. The subtle pleasure of giving or asking for a light - a complicity, a kind of freemasonry of the cigarette."

[صفاء SAFAA · Rating 4 out of 5]

منذ المجلد الأول من دفاتر ألبير كامو، كنت شديدة الحذر من الملاحظات والأفكار التي بدأها كامو في سن مبكرة حتى وفاته، فهي بمثابة بوابة دخولي إلى عالم كامو المتشابك والممتلئ بالتفاصيل ولحظة لقاء دقيقة وصارمة مع ألبير الإنسان، في حدته التي يعبر بها عن فكرة العبث اللامتناهي.

https://m7raby.wordpress.com/2019/05/...


في الجزء الأول من دفاتره، كان معظم ما دونه كامو يدور حول “لعبة الأنا والآخر”، أولا في علاقته بنفسه في ملاحظات خاطفة حول بعض الأحداث وما يتضمنها من ردود فعل، وفي شخوص رواياته، حيث نتابع مراحل تكوينه لملامح شخصيات محورية في الغريب والطاعون والموت السعيد.



في الجزء الثاني، يظهر كامو كشخص أكثر نضجا ويغلف الحياة بنظرة أكثر توازنا، وخصص صفحات كثيرة لتدوين تفاصيل رحلاته البعيدة وما يشملها من تفاعلات، محاولا أن لا يظهر وجهة نظره خوفا من أن تجعله يظهر بالموقف الذي يأتي متطرفا حادا، ويظهر هذا جليا خصوصا في مراسلاته مع أصدقائه وآخرين مجهولين من القراء العامين، حيث يتلقى وجهات النظر الأخرى وأشكال السخط المتنوع بتقبل وفهم لضرورة تنوع الأفكار وتصارعها حتى تنضج أخيرا في حوار إنساني مستقيم.

في النهاية، أصبحت مدمنة بكل تفصيل دقيق، وكل حرف يدونه كامو في دفاتره، والسبب أن قراءة دفاتر كامو يختلف تماما عن قراءة أي إبداع خاص من إبداعاته السردية، فهي مغامرة واقعية جدا جديرة بأن تخوضها كاملة، فبعيدا عن الشكل المتعارف عليه للمذكرات، فدفاتر كامو تقترب من فسيفساء ضخمة مختارة بدقة، لتشكل جزءا مهما من عمله الوجودي الممتد.

[محمد یوسفی‌شیرازی · Rating 3 out of 5]

از لابه‌لای این یادداشت‌ها می‌شود به مطالب بسیاری درباره‌ی زندگی و اندیشه‌ی کامو دست یافت. جرقه‌‌های اولیه‌ای که برای نوشتن برخی کتاب‌هایش در ذهن او شکل گرفته و نیز تأثیر اندیشه‌ورزان و نویسندگان دیگر بر او را تا اندازه‌ای می‌توان دریافت. این یادداشت‌ها هم‌چنین سیر نگارش داستان‌هایش را تا حدودی روشن می‌کند. بااین‌همه، جالب‌ترین و گیراترین بخش‌های کتاب برای من، آن قمست‌هایی است که به دل‌نگرانی‌ها و دغدغه‌های شخصی او مربوط می‌شود. این‌ بخش‌ها اغلب، با لحن شاعرانه‌ی دل‌انگیزی گفته شده و هریک به‌اندازه‌ی شعری درخشان، ارزش‌مند است. نمونه‌هایی از این گفتارها:
- و من، محبوسِ غار، دربرابرِ سایه‌ی جهان، تنهایم.
- چه معجزه‌ای است که مجبور نباشی درباره‌ی خویشتن سخن بگویی!
- و این زندگی پرازانتظار. انتظار شام را می‌کشم و بعد، خواب را. به برخاستنم و به صبح فردا با امیدی مبهم می‌اندیشم. برای چه؟ نمی‌دانم. بلند می‌شوم و انتظار ناهار را می‌‌کشم و به‌همین‌ترتیب، تا روز بعد... .
- پایان میل و هوس، دل‌زدگی است.
در جاهایی هم جمله‌های نغز فیلسوفانه‌ای گفته شده است؛ مانند
- تنهایی: از تجملات ثروت‌مندان!
- مردی که میل به بازی‌گری دارد، همیشه در کنار زنان خوش است.
- عشق، وجود ما را از خودخواهی پاک نمی‌کند؛ بل‌که ما را از آن آگاه می‌کند و اندیشه‌ی سرزمین دوردستی را به ذهنمان می‌آورد که در آن، خودخواهی جایی نخواهد داشت.
- هم‌چنان‌که مرگ سبب می‌شود در اهمیت آثار نویسنده‌ای اغراق کنیم، هم‌چنان نیز مرگ یک شخص باعث می‌شود در اهمیت جای‌گاه وی در نزد خودمان راه اغراق بپیماییم. بنابراین، گذشته از مرگ ساخته شده است و مرگ آن را مملو از توهم می‌کند.